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Thus I might as well say fuck it, he said to himself. And ring up the sick girl in the next dome. He dialed her code, feeling no enthusiasm. It took Rybys Rommey an amazingly long time to respond to his signal, and as he sat noting the signal-register on his own board he thought, Is she finished? Or did they come and forcibly evacuate her? His microscreen showed vague colors. Visual static, nothing more. And then there she was. "Did I wake you up?" he said. She seemed so slowed down, so torpid. Perhaps, he thought, she's sedated. "No. I was shooting myself in the ass." "What?" he said, startled. Was Yah screwing him over once again, cooking his signal? But she had said it, all right. Rybys said, "Chemotherapy. I'm not doing too well." But what an uncanny coincidence, he thought. Your behind and shooting myself in the ass. I'm in an eerie world, he thought. Things are behaving funny. "I just now taped a terrific Linda Fox concert," he said. "I'll be broadcasting it in the next few days. It'll cheer you up." Her slightly swollen face showed no response. "It's too bad we're stuck in these domes. I wish we could visit one another. The foodman was just here. In fact he brought me my medication. It's effective but it makes me throw up." Herb Asher thought, I wish I hadn't called. "Is there any way you could visit me?" Rybys said. "I have no portable air, none at all." It was of course a lie. "I have," Rybys said. In panic he said, "But if you're sick-" "I can make it over to your dome." "What about your station? What if data come in that-" "I've got a beeper I can bring with me." Presently he said, "OK." "It would mean a lot to me, someone to sit with for a little while. The foodman stays like half an hour, but that's as long as he can. You know what he told me? There's been an outbreak of a form of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis on CY3O VI. It must be a virus. This whole condition is a virus. Christ, I'd hate to have amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. This is like the Mariana form."
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