I Can Do Anything

by J. T. McIntosh

  She didn't ask any more questions. The new Susie was as patient as the old. In character she hadn't changed -- only in capacity.

  She didn't seem to notice the difference in herself as they dressed, but Sammy noticed. She stood straighter now, with her chin up and her shoulders back. As a result, her bust tilted higher, her waist was now slimmer and her stomach flatter. Sammy was satisfied with the preliminary signs of the transformation he had wrought. This wasn't Susie. This was Amanda.

  She would even speak better. Of course, he hadn't been able to extend her vocabulary, but she'd do that herself, very rapidly. And she couldn't help expressing herself better, even with the words she knew now.

  Amanda. In the recesses of his mind, he called her Galatea.

  They left the hostel, walked back to Nick's -- closed and silent now, although the upstairs lights were on -- and crossed the street to Garden City.

  Susie hung back. "You're not going to -- "

  "I'm not going to do anything very bad, Susie. And I'm going to do one good thing. I'm going to make Cliff's girl happier without Cliff than she ever was with him."

  He rang the bell of the Benjamin house. When at last the butler came, he ushered Sammy and Susie in as if he'd been expecting them.

  Down the wide, silent staircase came three people, belting dressing gowns about them. First was Mrs. Benjamin, small and plump. Then Mr. Benjamin, tall, gray-haired, blinking. Finally Shirley, tousled, sleepy.

  "Cliff is dead," Sammy told them without preliminaries. "But you don't mind that, do you?" The question was addressed to Shirley, who hadn't changed expression on being told of Cliff's death.

  "No," said Shirley mechanically. "I didn't love him."

  "Why did you think he did?"

  "He wanted me."

  "You have to love anybody who wants you?"

  "Yes. Nobody ever wanted me."

  "Is that true, Mrs. Benjamin?"

  The three Benjamins were like sleepwalkers. Sammy was holding them in a kind of trance in which they had no choice but to tell the truth. It was similar to questioning under sodium pentothal but deeper, much deeper.

  "Yes, it's true," said Mrs. Benjamin in a dull tone similar to Shirley's. "The doctors told me I'd die if the child was born."

  "Why was Shirley born, then?"

  "A specialist was to come and operate. He didn't come. The other doctors wouldn't perform the operation. Shirley was born. I nearly died, but after a year I recovered."

  "And you still didn't want Shirley?"

  "She had caused me so much pain . . ."

  "Did your feelings change, Mrs. Benjamin?"

  The woman sighed. "Of course. Could I go on hating my own daughter?"

  Sammy turned back to Shirley. "You had to love anybody who wanted you, because your parents didn't want you. But later they loved you."

  "Later they loved me," said Shirley blankly.

  "They love you now. There's no need to love a man just because he says he wants you."

  "No need any more," Shirley repeated.

  Sammy lifted the trance slowly, gradually. "No need any more!" said Shirley joyfully, and turned to hug her mother.

  As Sammy knew from experience, this method worked. It was time to turn to his next aim.

  "This is your friend Amanda, Shirley," he said.

  "No, Sammy, no!" Susie exclaimed.

  "My friend Amanda," said Shirley happily.

  "She's staying with you. She's -- "

  "Sammy," said Susie urgently, pulling at his arm. "This isn't right. It's like stealing. I can see what you're trying to do, and I know you're doing it for me, but -- "

  "You're going to help Shirley," Sammy said quietly. "She's got to rebuild her life. She can do it if a girl like you is around to help her, Amanda."

  "But I'm from the Jungle, and -- "

  "Stay in this house for three weeks and I promise you that when you go out, nobody will know you. You're Amanda Randolph. I'm going to leave you here and go over to Nick's to kill off Susie. She died yesterday and was buried the same day."

  "Sammy, I can't stay here. It won't work. You can make these people believe I'm Shirley's friend and that I've never been in the Jungle in my life, but I can't live on them for the rest of my life. I can't -- "

  "Of course you can't." He gave her an envelope. "That won't keep you forever, but it's enough to silence questions, that and the fact that you're Shirley's friend. You came from somewhere in the south. You like the Garden and you're going to stay. Twenty thousand dollars is a pretty good introduction to society."

  "I can't take it."

  "Don't let's go into that again. What good is it to me?"

  "Sammy, you can't get away with all this."

  "Of course not," he said wryly. "I told you, remember?"

  "But, Sammy if you . . ." She stopped. There was nothing she could suggest to him, nothing he could do.

  Sammy turned back to the Benjamins. "Amanda Randolph has been Shirley's friend for a long time. She isn't seeing anybody just now because she's had an operation on her face, and she'll change during the next few weeks. Her parents are dead and she doesn't know anybody in town but Shirley. In a month or so you'll help her to get a job in the Garden, won't you?"

  "Of course."

  Sammy took a last look at them. When people knew a thing, loose ends didn't bother them. Shirley was radiant because she knew, knew beyond argument, that she wasn't unloved after all. Although it would take her many weeks to rethink her life, reassess everything that had ever happened to her, she'd be able to do it in the end, with the help of a generous, sympathetic friend like -- like Amanda. Amanda was doubtful, bewildered, but soon she would respond to these people and flower in the easier life of the Garden.

  Holding them for a moment, he ducked out into the street, out of their lives.

  The rain had stopped. It was easy to find and rouse a few of the miners, convincing them absolutely that Susie had died suddenly the day before and had been buried. It wasn't so easy when he went to the police. Here he had to do a much more careful, subtle job, for later these men would know about Cliff Burns' suicide and that Sammy Talbot had been scrambled for using a strange, secret Power over men. No doubt there would be an attempt later to find out just what Sammy had actually done.

  After he had finished his calls -- which hadn't been made at all, for no one would remember then -- there was nothing for him to do but return to the hostel.

  As he made his way there, he thought without regret of the events of the last few hours. Human beings shouldn't have this Power, obviously, and he bore nobody any malice for what was going to happen to him. His life and personality weren't so remarkable that he had any real excuse for wanting to preserve them. But he was content -- as content as any man could be knowing he was going to be scrambled in the next few hours.

  He didn't reach the hostel. Suddenly he felt an intense pain in his head and knew at once what it meant.

  Pitching forward in the mud, he lay still.

  "It's all I could collect," said Sergeant Teiger, dropping two typewritten sheets on Lieutenant Gibson's desk. "Doesn't amount to much, but I'd sure appreciate it if you can make it do for your report to Earth. Snooping around in the Jungle asking questions isn't the healthiest occupation I know."

  Gibson lit his pipe before picking up the sheets. "Party at Benjamins' broke up around twelve, Cliff Burns left about one," he mused. "Found next morning in shed behind Ricky Chiotza's place, throat cut, undoubtedly suicide. Chiotza had fight with Sammy Talbot earlier in evening, taxi-driver says Burns picked up Talbot and girl, drove Burns back to Benjamins', Talbot and girl to hostel in Jungle. Girl untraced . . . Talbot's girl, Susie, died earlier same day . . ."

  He looked up. Bill, this isn't a report. It's a dog's breakfast."

  "I know, Lieutenant. I can't help it."

  "Hell, all this was three weeks ago. Surely by this time -- "

  "Look, if that guy Keig hadn't pressed the button the moment he woke up a
nd saw Talbot had been up to something, we might have made some sense out of this. Sure, those were his instructions, and now we've got to pat Keig and Monkton on the back and let them go on the next ship, though we know Monkton at least is a crook -- "

  "Relax, Bill," said Gibson. "If Talbot was a mutant or something, naturally the affair got tangled at the end. I must say the whole thing leaves a bad taste -- poor devil gets sent out to the mines here with Burns, Keig and Monkton waiting for him to make a false move so that they could slap him down. Okay, Bill, I'll do what I can with this. It isn't our business, anyway. If the Earth authorities want to know what really happened, they can come here and try to find out."

  Teiger went out. Gibson started to write his report.

  Teiger came back. "Dame wants to see you about Talbot."

  "What kind of dame?"

  "Your type. My type. Anybody's type."

  "Okay, show her in."

  "I thought you'd say that."

  The girl who came into Gibson's office was no Helen of Troy, but nobody who found her on his line would throw her back. Her face was lean and attractive, and she held herself like a queen.

  Gibson let his appreciation show. He came forward to meet her. "I'm Lieutenant Gibson," he said warmly, taking her hand.

  She smiled. "Amanda Randolph."

  "You knew Sammy Talbot, Miss Randolph?"

  "How would I know a miner?" How would she, indeed? That was what had interested Gibson. Her expensive gray silk dress showed that she wouldn't know anything about the Jungle or its inhabitants.

  "Then what is your interest in him?"

  "I'm interested in psychology, Lieutenant Gibson, and I have a lot of time on my hands. Cany anything be done for anyone like Talbot?"

  "Oh, sure. In about ten years he'll be more or less normal."

  "Where is he now?"

  "At the hospital. When a scrambling sentence is carried out, the prisoner becomes a state charge."

  "Could I go and see him? I've read about scrambling and I'd like to see the results."

  "Frankly, Miss Randolph, I don't want to have any hand in turning a poor guy like that into a sort of sideshow."

  "I don't mean it like that, Lieutenant. I said I had a lot of time on my hands. Perhaps I could help with Talbot. I don't suppose he gets much attention at the hospital."

  "I guess you're right at that," Gibson sighed. "Okay, if you go over to the hospital I'll call them right now and tell them it's all right."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." Amanda Randolph stood up. "Tell me, is he a prisoner?"

  "Prisoner? Hell, no. His sentence was carried out. He's being kept at the hospital because he couldn't live a normal life, that's all."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant," Amanda said again.

  Half an hour later, a white-coated doctor said: "Sure, go in. He's not dangerous."

  "Is he getting any treatment?"

  "Well, Miss Randolph, you know how it is. Cases like that don't need treatment; they need re-education. It would make sense to send him to school with the five-year-olds, in about two years or so when he's learned to talk."

  "Suppose I came every day?"

  "That would be fine of you, Miss Randolph. But you'd better see him first and see if you still want to."

  "Doctor, let me put a hypothetical case. Suppose someone married him and took him out of here -- suppose his wife was with him all the time, except when she had to work -- couldn't he be, well, normal in a fairly short time?"

  The doctor smiled ruefully. "You said hypothetical, Miss Randolph. If there was some woman who had loved the guy before -- it would have to be before, for there's nothing left now for any woman to love -- she might make him into something resembling a human being in a few months. But it'll be years before he can talk like an adult, and read, and count, and build up the background of general knowledge we all have . . . Look, you'd better see him before you consider any more hypothetical questions, Miss Randolph."

  Amanda thanked him and pushed open the door.

  Sammy lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He looked around as Amanda came in and sat down beside the bed.

  "Hello, Sammy," said Amanda quietly.

  His face was as clear and empty as a child's. The mind behind it was even emptier.

  Amanda sighed. She had endless patience and it was clearly going to be needed.

  "Ssssss," she said.

  "Ith?" Sammy inquired.

  "Ssssss."

  "Iss."

  She let pleasure show in her face, and Sammy responded to it with a cackle. "Iss!" he crowed. "Iss! Iss! Iss!"