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or `Central Valley.' Mr. Powell, I'm buying and you're selling. If you don't sell what I want to buy I'll go
where they do sell it."
He changed the contract and we both initialed it.
At twelve straight up I was back in for my final check with their medical examiner. He looked at me.
"Did you stay sober?"
"Sober as a judge."
"That's no recommendation. We'll see." He went over me almost as carefully as he had "yesterday."
At last he put down his rubber hammer and said, "I'm surprised. You're in much better shape than you
were yesterday. Amazingly so."
"Doc, you don't know the half of it."
I held Pete and soothed him while they gave him the first sedative. Then I lay back myself and let
them work on me. I suppose I could have waited another day, or even longer, just as well as not-but the
truth was that I was frantically anxious to get back to 2001.
About four in the afternoon, with Pete's flat head resting on my chest, I went happily to sleep again.
CHAPTER 12
My dreams were pleasanter this time. The only bad one I remember was not too bad, but simply
endless frustration. It was a cold dream in which I wandered shivering through branching corridors, trying
every door I came to, thinking that the next one would surely be the Door into Summer, with Ricky
waiting on the other side. I was hampered by Pete, "following me ahead of me," that exasperating habit
cats have of scalloping back and forth between the legs of persons trusted not to step on them or kick
them.
At each new door he would duck between my feet, look out it, find it still winter outside, and reverse
himself, almost tripping me.
But neither one of us gave up his conviction that the next door would be the right one.
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I woke up easily this time, with no disorientation-in fact the F doctor was somewhat irked that all I
wanted was some breakfast, the Great Los Angeles Times, and no chitchat. I didn't think it was worth
while to explain to him that this was my second time around; he would not have believed me.
There was a note waiting for me, dated a week earlier, from John:
Dear Dan,
All right, I give up. How did you do it? I'm complying with your request not to be met, against
Jenny's wishes. She sends her love and hopes that you won't be too long in looking us up-I've tried to
explain to her that you expect to be busy for a while. We are both fine although I tend to walk where I
wed to run. Jenny is even more beautiful than she used to be.
Hasta Ia vista, amigo,
John
P.S. If the enclosure is not enough, just phone-there is plenty more where it came from. We've done
pretty well, I think.
I considered calling John, both to say hello and to tell him about a colossal new idea I had had while
asleep-a gadget to change bathing from a chore to a sybaritic delight. But I decided not to; I had other
things on my mind. So I made notes while the notion was fresh and then got some sleep, with Pete's head
tucked into my armpit. I wish I could cure him of that. It's flattering but a nuisance.
On Monday, the thirtieth of April, I checked out and went over to Riverside, where I got a room in
the old Mission Inn. They made the predictable fuss about taking a cat into a room and an autobellhop is
not responsive to bribes-hardly an improvement. But the assistant manager had more flexibility in his
synapses; he listened to reason as long as it was crisp and rustled. I did not sleep well; I was too excited.
I presented myself to the director of the Riverside Sanctuary at ten o'clock the next morning. "Dr.
Rumsey, my name is Daniel B. Davis. You have a committed client here named Frederica Heinicke?"
"I suppose you can identify yourself?"
I showed him a 1970 driver's license issued in Denver, and my withdrawal certificate from Forest
Lawn Sanctuary. He looked them over and me, and handed them back. I said anxiously, "I think she's
scheduled for withdrawal today. By any chance, are there any instructions to permit me to be present? I
don't mean the processing routines; I mean at the last minute, when she's ready for the final restimulant
and consciousness."
He shoved his 11ps out and looked judicial. "Our instructions for this client do not read to wake her
today."
"No?" I felt disappointed and hurt.
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"No. Her exact wishes are as follows: instead of necessarily being waked today, she wished not to
be waked at all until you showed up." He looked me over and smiled. "You must have a heart of gold. I
can't account for it on your beauty."
I sighed. "Thanks, Doctor."
"You can wait in the lobby or come back. We won't need you for a couple of hours."
I went back to the lobby, got Pete, and took him for a walk. I had parked him there in his new travel
bag and he was none too pleased with it, even though I had bought one as much like his old one as
possible and had installed a one-way window in it the night before. It probably didn't smell right as yet.
We passed the "real nice place," but I was not hungry even though I hadn't been able to eat much
breakfast-Pete had eaten my eggs and had turned up his nose at yeast strips. At eleven-thirty I was back
at the sanctuary. Finally they let me in to see her.
All I could see was her face; her body was covered. But it was my Ricky, grown woman size and
looking like a slumbering angel.
"She's under posthypnotic instruction," Dr. Rumsey said softly. "If you will stand just there, I'll bring
her up. Uh, I think you had better put that cat outside."
"No, Doctor."
He started to speak, shrugged, turned back to his patient. "Wake up, Frederica. Wake up. You must
wake up now."
Her eyelids fluttered, she opened her eyes. They wandered for an instant, then she caught sight of us
and smiled sleepily. "Danny and Pete." She raised both armsand I saw that she was wearing my Tech
class ring on her left thumb.
Pete chirrlupped and jumped on the bed, started doing shoulder dives against her in an ecstasy of
welcome.
Dr. Rumsey wanted her to stay overnight, but Ricky would have none of it. So I had a cab brought
to the door and we jumped to Brawley. Her grandmother had died in 1980 and her social links there had
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