Are You There and Other Stories by Jack Skillingstead Read Free Book Online Page A

her tightly while the sun came up.
    At the breakfast table I opened the little silver pill case. There were only three pills left. I took one with my first cup of dark French roast. Kim stared at the open case before I snapped it shut.
    “You’re almost out,” she said.
    “Yeah.”
    “Robert, it’s not like what you said. Those pills aren’t you. They allow you to feel, that’s all. You can’t always be afraid.”
    I contemplated my coffee.
    “Listen,” she said. “I used to be envious of Eyes. No more pain, no more loneliness, no more fear. Life with none of the messiness of living. But I was wrong. That isn’t life at all. This is. What we have.”
    “So I’ll get more pills.” I smiled.
    Only it wasn’t like a trip to the local pharmacy. There was only one place to obtain the magic personality drug: The Project. I decided I should go that day, that there was no point in waiting for my meager supply to run out.
    Kim held onto me like somebody clinging to a pole in a hurricane.
    “I’ll come with you,” she said.
    “They won’t let you past the gate.”
    “I don’t care. I’ll wait outside then.”
    We took her car. She parked across the street. We embraced awkwardly in the front seat. I was aware of the guard watching us.
    “You’ve hardly told me anything personal about yourself,” she said. “And here I’ve told you all my secret pain.”
    “Maybe I don’t have any secret pain.”
    “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.”
    “I’ll spill my guts when I come out. Promise.”
    She didn’t want to let go, but I was ready to leave. I showed the guard my credentials and he passed me through. I turned and waved to Kim.
    “She’s a pretty one,” the guard said.
    I sat in a room. They relieved me of my pill case. I was “debriefed” by a young man who behaved like an automaton, asking questions, checking off my answers on his memorypad. Where had I spent the last two weeks? Why had I failed to communicate with the Project? Did I feel depressed, anxious? Some questions I answered, some I ignored.
    “I just want more pills,” I said. “I’ll check in next time, cross my heart.”
    A man escorted me to the medical wing, where I underwent a thorough and pointless physical examination. When it was over, Orley Campbell, assistant director of the Tau Boo Project, sat down to chat while we awaited the results of various tests.
    “So our stray lamb has returned to the fold,” he said. Orley was a tall man with a soft face and the beginnings of a potbelly. I didn’t like him.
    “Baaa,” I said.
    “Same old Bobbie.”
    “Yep, same old me. When do I get out of here?”
    “This isn’t a jail. You’re free to leave any time you wish.”
    “What about my pills?”
    “You’ll get them, don’t worry about that. You owe us one more session, you know.”
    “I know.”
    “Are you having misgivings? I’ve looked over your evaluation. You appear somewhat depressed.”
    “I’m not in the least bit depressed.”
    “Aren’t you? I wish I could say the same.”
    “What time is it? How long have I been here, Orley?”
    “Oh, not long. Bobbie, why not jump right back on the horse? If you’d like to relax for a couple of weeks more, that’s absolutely not a problem. You just have to remember to check in. I mean, that’s part of the drill, right? You knew that when you signed on.”
    I thought about Kim waiting outside the gate. Would she still be there? Did I even want her to be? I could feel my consciousness spreading thin. Orley kept smiling at me. “I guess I’m ready,” I said.
    A month is a long time to exist in the Tank. Of course, as an Eye, you are unaware of passing hours. You inhabit a sensory world at the far end of a tachyon tether. I’ve looked at romanticized illustrations of this. The peaceful dreamer at one end, the industrious robot on the other. In between, the data flows along an ethereal cord of light. Blah. They keep you alive intravenously, maintain hydration,