Astounding British Edition, Vol. 9, No. 10 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MEDICINE SHOW | 7 Dr. Harmon. “I saw that doctor at the — by the main road, with additional infor- mation. “Doc, she says she is gonna chop up some wood after she finishes with the wash—” Inside the house, he found his patient in the kitchen, just finishing breakfast. From the remnants on the table, he judged that she had eaten at least two stacks of hot cakes, ham and eggs, and had drunk he couldn’t guess how much coffee. — “Oh, there you are, Doc,” she greeted him. “Seems to me like I raised nothing but derned fool kids. That derned Silas wkin’ there behind you thinks I’m oony. He thinks J ain’t able to put out the wash. For fifty years, ever since I was a gitl—until I got sick—I put out a wash every week. I ain’t aiming to change my habits now.” “Do you think you are able to do this?” “Doc, don’t talk like that idiot son of mine! Of course I’m able to do it. I wouldn’t be saying I was able if I wasn’t.” “Yesterday, you know, you weren't feeling so well.” “That was yestiddy. Yestiddy I was sick. Today is different. Today I’m a well woman.” She spoke with sureness and convic- tion. Was this the conviction of lunacy or did she know’ what she was talking about? “Would you mind ifI...ah... examined you before you put out that wash?” “If itll keep you and that idiot son of mine quiet, I'll let you do it.” A few minutes later a bewildered doc- tor put down his stethoscope. The heart action was strong, there were no wheezes in the Jungs. The pulpy mass that had been apparent in the stomach the day before was still present but it was dimin- ished in size and it had softened as if it was dissolving, going away. “What... ah . . . happened?” he asked. “I went to the medicine show last night. I was certain you and the rest of your tribe wasn’t going to get me well. If I was going to get well, I had to hunt me up another doctor.” In her voice was the triumph of getting well, not triumph over medicine show. He gave me something.” “Would you mind telling me what it was?” “Heck, I'll show you.” From her apron pockets she took two small pieces of metal. They were not the same shape as the ones Yanvro had given Harmon and they had obviously come from the same machine. “The doc gave ’em to me. He told me to keep ’em in my apron pockets, and if I wasn’t wearing an apron, to sew ‘em on to my underwear. The way I am feeling this morning, you can bet I’m going to do exactly what he said.” Silently, too dazed to speak, Dr. Har- mon left the house. Outside he faced the worried son. “Tet her do the wash,” he said. “Doc, you don’t mean—” “You help her.” “And after she finishes with the wash, if she still wants to do it, let her chop wood.” Harmon headed for his car on the run. On the vacant lot, a line of people were waiting to be admitted to the tent. Each carried a package or a container of some kind. One was on crutches, another hob- bled with the aid of a cane, a third limped. Dr. Harmon had seen such sights be- fore, he saw them almost every day in his own office. Some of these people were his former patients that he had tried to help without much success. Now they were lined up in front of a medicine show tent, each one still hoping to find a way to be well again. If they found fraud in that tent, much promised but little delivered, what would their reaction be? Harmon knew his own people well enough to know how they would react to deceit. But what if the activities carried on | inside the tent were, by some miracle, a part of the spectrum of truth? What if— Kachoo! Harmon’s sneeze rang a warning bell inside him. As Harmon stopped his car, he saw that two other cars were stopping on the side street adjoining the vacant lot. Dr. Lapham, his pince-nez on crooked and Gomicbooks co 4, ENS cara LF