He could hear her voice faintly now. She wasn't talking to him, and he had to strain to catch her words. "He's all right, doctor. For the past few days all he's wanted to talk about is his body. I've been telling him anything he wants to know." George could barely make out a mumbled answer. It was too far away to hear the words. "Play the tape, doctor. You'll see what I mean." He mustn't let her know he had overheard. He had forgotten all about this being put on tape. He'd have to watch his words from now on. She must have thought she had turned the microphone off when the doctor came in. Mentally, George smiled. * * * * * _Karen._ No answer. _Karen!_ Silence. _Karen, can you hear me?_ Where in the name of heaven did that woman go? Has she left me? Maybe they gave me up for dead. _Karen._ I've been sleeping--or day-dreaming. Or maybe it's the middle of the night. Maybe she's asleep. Maybe she's gone. _Karen!_ She must be asleep. Or maybe she's dead. Or maybe there's a loose connection in the wiring. _Karen!_ No answer. Nothing but that deep, dead silence. _Karen! Testing. Testing. One, two, three--Testing. Karen. Where are you? Can you hear me, Karen? Karen!_ It seemed like several eternities before she answered. "George?" He would have breathed a sigh of relief, if he could. _I thought you'd deserted me. Were you asleep?_ She laughed that soft, vibrant laugh. "I'm sorry. I just--stepped out." _That's okay, sweetheart. I'm all right. Forget it. But tell me about these things next time, huh? I worry about you when you're gone._ "You shouldn't. I'm a big girl now." _Hey! Is this being recorded?_ "Of course." _Who listens to it?_ "Oh, a bunch of doctors and medical students." _Any prudes in the audience?_ "Not me," she laughed. "But there's bound to be at least _one_, anyway." _Okay_, he said. He spent the next two hours telling bawdy stories. * * * * * A month later George knew he had grown to rely on Karen more and more. In fact, he knew he was falling in love with her. "Hi," she announced. Her voice sounded excited. "George, I just had a look at your body. It's coming along fine--in fact, it's bee-ootiful! I'll be with you in about ten minutes. Enjoy some music while I'm gone. Bye!" Then the music lanced into his brain at a tremendous volume. George quivered in real pain as each note blared forth. It was the loudest version of the Warsaw Concerto he ever hoped to hear. As the music progressed, blatting its way through painful crescendos and screaming treble notes, he tried to shut out the sound of it. It was impossible. It was a tearing, screeching nightmare of sound, that put him back on a hurtling elevated train with the sound of a young girl's scream in his ears, and the pain of a body crushed beyond recognition. With a convulsive shudder, George was unconscious. * * * * * "Headache gone yet?" She was concerned.