THE ALTERNATE PLAN
By GERRY MADDREN
The operation was a very serious one and Bart Neelywas willing to put himself into Dr. Morton's hands.But if things turned out badly, Bart was going toteach them a lesson. He was going to refuse to die.
Bart Neely was fightingthe hypo. They'd slippedthat over on him. Now he had tostruggle to keep his brain readyfor plan B. The alternate plan.He nodded feebly at his reflectionin the mirror over the whiteenamel dresser. This throat-troublewasn't going to lick him.He lay back on the cool whitepillow. Medical men alwaysthought theirs was the final answer;well, psychologists likehimself knew there was a broaderview of man than the anatomical.There was a vast regionof energy at man's disposal;the switch to turn it on, locatedin the brain.
Rubber-soled shoes squishedacross the bare floor as Dr.Jonas Morton came into Bart'sroom. His hair was hidden by asterile cap, his arms bare to wellabove the elbows.
Looks like a damned butcher,thought Bart.
"Bart, I want you to reconsiderthe anesthetic. I think youought to be out for this one,completely out." The doctor'svoice became a shade less professional."I don't tell you howto run your perception experiments,I think you ought to letme judge what's best in the surgicalarea."
"No," Bart whispered hoarsely.It was hell squeezing thewords out. Lifting his voice thesedays was harder than lifting ahalf-ton truck. "Must be conscious,able to decide." Jonashad to lean down to catch all thewords. "Not going to let youtake my voice while I'm unconscious... helpless ..."
Dr. Morton shook his head."You're the boss."
"How soon?"
"Twenty minutes." The professionaltone became pronouncedagain. "Your wife's outsidewaiting to see you. Don't getemotional, I don't want yourendocrine system in an uproar."The doctor stepped out into thecorridor.
Emotional. He mustn't thinkabout it. He might weaken, consentto linger on, an invalid, justto be with Vivian a few extrayears. Extra years of indignitiescalculated to twist the man-womanrelationship into an uglydistortion. How romantic itwould be, he and Vivian lockedin an embrace, the silky softnessof her hair falling across hisarm, the pressure of her fingerson his back. And then, instead ofplacing his mouth against herear and whispering the familiarintimacies, he would switch onthe light, disengage himself sothat he could whip out a padand pencil and ...
His heartskipped at the sound pattern ofhigh heels on the corridor. Vivian,Vivian. Her perfume prickedhis senses and it took effort toshut out the emotional response."Remember the need for analternate plan," he reminded himselffiercely and then looked upinto his wife's clear green eyes.Without a word she bent downand lay her face next to his. Hewas struck with the warmth ofher. He gently pushed her headaway. "Vi." (My Lord, his eyeswere wet ... what a schoolboyperformance!) "Vi, you know Idon't want to go on here ... ifradical surgery is necessary. Iwant you to remember me as awhole man, not a ... dummy."
"Bart, oh Bart." There was afrown of apprehension on herforehead. She sighed heavilyand whispered, "Can it make somuch difference when I love youBart?"
"But don't you see, Vi? It maynot be Bart Neely they wheelback here after the operation."He motioned for her to bendcloser for the sound of his voicewas becoming weaker. "In myfield I've seen a lot of crazy reactionsto loss of basic ability.Personality reversals broughtabout by loss of hearing, impotency,or even the inability tobear a child." He stroked theback of her hand with his finger."Bart Neely wit