can hear the boosters working. As your physician, in the narrow sense, I advise you to do it frequently. Monitor yourself. And, as your friend in the fullest sense, I would say avoid any avoidable excitement.
Your friend,
Doctor Burnheart
42]
Dear Doctor,
I woke up to the sirens this morning with a chestful of nettles. I couldn't avoid it. I behaved accordingly.
It was good to get your letter.
Your patient,
Moldenke
43]
Dear Moldenke,
Medically speaking, you shouldn't do more than a sheep would do. The sirens can't be helped. Imagine yourself in a mock meadow, grazing. In a stable being shorn. Work on it.
Quickly,
Doctor Burnheart
44]
Dear Doctor Burnheart,
No more than a sheep would do? Should I assume that the operation failed? I was able to do more than a sheep before, with one heart. Am I to assume that the operation did nothing?
Anxiously yours,
Moldenke
45]
Dearest Dinky,
What we're after in this particular surgical procedure is longevity. You will probably live longer, though not as well. We're looking for quantity here. And it also has its dangers, most notably the fact that if one goes they all go. Or, be satisfied with the brighter side-—since the main one can't possibly fail until the other four in succession do, you'll have a warning, an unmeasured period of grace. We should all be so lucky.
Yours,
The one of hearts,
Doc Burny
46]
They drank tea, smoked brown cigars, talked about the weather.
Abruptly, as Shelp was mentioning the possibility of a flood, Moldenke tightened his backpack strap and went to the door, his trenchpants bunched at the knees, adjusting his goggles and gauze pad. “I'm leaving now, Shelp. Would you point me to the south? It's dark. I'm lost without the suns. I have enjoyed the visit. It's nice to meet someone these days who isn't leaking jelly all over. Will you show me the south? ”
“What are you hurrying to, Moldenke? Where is it that someone could want to get to? Sit down and act easy. I'll do another weather report. Sit. Don't go off.”
Moldenke came back, sat down on a dog bench. “It would be helpful to know the weather. I'll stay for the weather report. Then you'll point me south?”
“Sure I will. I can tell you right now there won't be any suns up for a few days. Government economics, Dink. What can we do? Bees in the hive. You know the story. You'll be walking in the dark for a while. I wish I could help you. I'll do the report.”
The wind fence is near completion along the coastal swamps, wind speed down, temperature de-emphasized until same time tomorrow and Sunsday, birdfall seasonal to normal...
Shelp swiveled in his chair and looked at Moldenke.
“Something's wrong, Dink. I'm not doing it right. Words I haven't said are coming out of me.”
“The banana flower tea? You might be reacting?”
“No, I don't react. I'll try again.”
Snowslides at Modessa, blowing flox in Great Chicago metro area, enclose the animals...no fishing in the water tubs...possible flooding on the River Odorous...
“Moldenke, it isn't right... ”
“Well, what now?”
“Watch the instruments.”
Moldenke watched the instruments. All needles returned to zero. “They all went off.”
“Bunce was listening. He turned them off.”
“I know the story, Shelp. I've been the hero of it. The next thing to go will be the electricity, then the gas, then the water. You should get away from this place, Shelp. Come along with me. Burnheart would like you.”
Shelp went to the telephone and waited. The telephone rang.
“Bunce?”
“I don't like the weather forecast, Shelp. I'd like a spell of moonlight. I'm entertaining a few of the folks on my k-yacht. See what you can do. Don't be clowning. And tell my pal Moldenke to stay where he is. I'm sending a man out.”
“My apologies, Bunce.”
“Enough chatter. Do the report again, with moonlight this time. Get it on, Shelp.”
Shelp hung up and went
Your friend,
Doctor Burnheart
42]
Dear Doctor,
I woke up to the sirens this morning with a chestful of nettles. I couldn't avoid it. I behaved accordingly.
It was good to get your letter.
Your patient,
Moldenke
43]
Dear Moldenke,
Medically speaking, you shouldn't do more than a sheep would do. The sirens can't be helped. Imagine yourself in a mock meadow, grazing. In a stable being shorn. Work on it.
Quickly,
Doctor Burnheart
44]
Dear Doctor Burnheart,
No more than a sheep would do? Should I assume that the operation failed? I was able to do more than a sheep before, with one heart. Am I to assume that the operation did nothing?
Anxiously yours,
Moldenke
45]
Dearest Dinky,
What we're after in this particular surgical procedure is longevity. You will probably live longer, though not as well. We're looking for quantity here. And it also has its dangers, most notably the fact that if one goes they all go. Or, be satisfied with the brighter side-—since the main one can't possibly fail until the other four in succession do, you'll have a warning, an unmeasured period of grace. We should all be so lucky.
Yours,
The one of hearts,
Doc Burny
46]
They drank tea, smoked brown cigars, talked about the weather.
Abruptly, as Shelp was mentioning the possibility of a flood, Moldenke tightened his backpack strap and went to the door, his trenchpants bunched at the knees, adjusting his goggles and gauze pad. “I'm leaving now, Shelp. Would you point me to the south? It's dark. I'm lost without the suns. I have enjoyed the visit. It's nice to meet someone these days who isn't leaking jelly all over. Will you show me the south? ”
“What are you hurrying to, Moldenke? Where is it that someone could want to get to? Sit down and act easy. I'll do another weather report. Sit. Don't go off.”
Moldenke came back, sat down on a dog bench. “It would be helpful to know the weather. I'll stay for the weather report. Then you'll point me south?”
“Sure I will. I can tell you right now there won't be any suns up for a few days. Government economics, Dink. What can we do? Bees in the hive. You know the story. You'll be walking in the dark for a while. I wish I could help you. I'll do the report.”
The wind fence is near completion along the coastal swamps, wind speed down, temperature de-emphasized until same time tomorrow and Sunsday, birdfall seasonal to normal...
Shelp swiveled in his chair and looked at Moldenke.
“Something's wrong, Dink. I'm not doing it right. Words I haven't said are coming out of me.”
“The banana flower tea? You might be reacting?”
“No, I don't react. I'll try again.”
Snowslides at Modessa, blowing flox in Great Chicago metro area, enclose the animals...no fishing in the water tubs...possible flooding on the River Odorous...
“Moldenke, it isn't right... ”
“Well, what now?”
“Watch the instruments.”
Moldenke watched the instruments. All needles returned to zero. “They all went off.”
“Bunce was listening. He turned them off.”
“I know the story, Shelp. I've been the hero of it. The next thing to go will be the electricity, then the gas, then the water. You should get away from this place, Shelp. Come along with me. Burnheart would like you.”
Shelp went to the telephone and waited. The telephone rang.
“Bunce?”
“I don't like the weather forecast, Shelp. I'd like a spell of moonlight. I'm entertaining a few of the folks on my k-yacht. See what you can do. Don't be clowning. And tell my pal Moldenke to stay where he is. I'm sending a man out.”
“My apologies, Bunce.”
“Enough chatter. Do the report again, with moonlight this time. Get it on, Shelp.”
Shelp hung up and went
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