_That would be nice. As long as it's relaxing. Something by Debussy, or Beethoven, maybe. And please, Karen, accept my apologies for mouthing off like that._ She laughed, softly. "We seem to be forgetting. _You're_ supposed to be the patient. Will you settle for Gershwin while I go hunt up some classical stuff?" _Gladly, sweetheart. Play it softly, huh?_ * * * * * _Karen._ "Yes, George." _You know more than I do what it's best for a patient to learn. Can you tell me all about the setup here?_ "Just what is it you want to know?" _My body--I mean my new body. How do they build a human body?_ She laughed softly. "They don't," she said. "Medical science can do many things, George, but they can't really _build_ a body." _But you said_-- "They can grow one to order, almost. You know what cancer is, don't you?" _Yes._ "Well, the doctors here use what they sometimes call 'controlled cancer'--to grow the human body. That way, they can do in months what it takes Nature years to accomplish." George puzzled over this for a moment. If he had had eyebrows, there would have been a frown on his face. If he had a face. _You mean--some other human being gives up his brain to make room for me?_ "No, George. It doesn't have a brain. It's just a body, with a small lump at the top of the spinal cord that controls the muscles." Her voice was patient, yet urgent. He had to understand. "You see," she continued, "because of the enormous rate of growth of the rest of the body, the brain--or the mind--doesn't have a chance to develop. The body has no personality--no _being_ of its own. It's your body, George. Yours alone." He was silent for a long time, thinking. Considering the possibilities of a new body. It'll be mine, he told himself, all mine. To taste and hear and feel and smell. To get cold, or warm--to sweat! To walk, to swim, to touch her hand--to see her--to see Karen! To see Karen, who is just a voice; to take her dancing! _How soon can I be in this body?_ "It'll be six months, anyway, George." Her voice seemed to be saying, "Please be patient," just by the tone of it. _Six months! Cooped up in this--this fishbowl!--for six months more?_ "I'm sorry, George. You won't be alone, though--I'll stay with you. That is, if you want me." He began to laugh. He laughed uproariously. He didn't care that the translator made his laugh into a horrible thing that grated in her ears. Part of the time his laugh was a sob, but it was all the same to the translator. _Do you mind if I call you Mom?_ There was a catch in his voice. _When I was a kid I used to rely on my mother like this! I've never been so dependent upon another woman in all my life! If I want you! I need you, Karen. Don't leave me!_ "I won't leave you, George--" He had the feeling there was something else she wanted to say, but she didn't. * * * * *