Kendall would not be distracted. His attention fixed so doggedly on Nate, the robot seemed to wither under his scrutiny.
Had he been human, Susan believed, his face would have turned a subtle shade of green.
“I’m not feeling very well. Excuse me.” Nate headed rapidly for the bathroom.
Susan covered for him. “We were gone most of the day. When we didn’t get back by three, and he hadn’t had lunch, Layton ate some leftovers.”
The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.
Pal completed the picture. “Oh no. Not the curried catfish. I’m not sure that stuff wasn’t spoiled when we bought it.”
“It was fine,” Susan said defensively. She glanced toward Kendall, careful not to stare. Her fellow resident was still looking toward the bathroom.
“Well, I got queasy after eating it fresh. I can only imagine how he feels three days later.”
It bothered Susan how easily she and Pal worked as a team of liars, but not nearly as much as the expression on Kendall’s face when he finally turned to look at her. “Oh, Susan,” he said, barely above a whisper. “You didn’t . . . You couldn’t have. . . .”
When no one, including Kendall, dared to finish Kendall’s sentence, the room became dangerously silent.
Still clutching the take-out bag, Susan said innocently. “Couldn’t have what?”
Subtly, Kendall rolled his eyes toward Pal, raising one eyebrow. He could not know what she had told her partner, but it appeared Kendall had seen through their deception. He strode toward Susan, opening the bag for her. “You didn’t tell me who I was feeding, so I picked Chinese. It’s usually shared. That way, if someone has dislikes or special circumstances or weirdo diets or allergies, they can avoid one or two dishes and still have a full meal.”
It was an awkward turnabout, but Susan and Pal had little choice but to play along.
While Kendall placed the microwaveable cartons where the bag had sat, Pal plucked serving spoons from the silverware drawer and Susan went to check on Nate. She tapped lightly on the door and called out, “Layton, do you need anything in there?”
The door muffled his reply to nonsense, but she pretended to have heard him. “All right. I’m going to leave you alone. Feel free to take whatever you find in the medicine chest and to lie down if you need to. Interrupt if you want anything at all. I’ll take care of the guests.”
Another uninterpretable reply followed from the bathroom.
Susan gestured for the men to take seats at the counter. She removed the extra plate and fork intended for Nate, creating space for the containers of food. Kendall opened each in turn, tossing a spoon into it and introducing it like a formal guest. “Mister and Missus Steamed Rice. Sir Chicken of Chow Mein. Dr. Pepper Steak. The Reverend Szechuan Pork with Chinese vegetables. Admiral Broccoli with fish balls.” Still peering into the last carton, he added, “Must have been awfully big fish.”
Pal loosed a polite chuckle. Susan got the joke but chose to ignore it. She took the container of rice, ladled some onto her plate, then passed it to Pal. “I presume you’re here to convince me to return to Manhattan Hasbro.”
Kendall pulled his stool closer to the counter. “That would be correct, though not the only reason. Have you spoken to Savage?”
“Not since I quit.” Susan took the fish and broccoli dish next, placing a spoonful on top of the rice before reaching for the next container. After taking some, Pal passed the rice to Kendall, who took it absently, his attention still fixed on Susan. “He called and left a message, but I haven’t gotten back to him yet.”
“Letting him stew?” Kendall guessed.
“Not really.” Susan had not given it much thought. “I just got it today, and I’ve been too busy to do anything more than answer a few quick texts. I think he wants an actual conversation.”
“Yeah.” Kendall doled out some rice. “He’s going to ask you back, you know. Grudgingly. It might be entertaining to make him beg.”
Susan shook her head, brow crinkling. “Why would he beg?”
“Because Bainbridge wasn’t happy with Savage’s sudden and unilateral decision. And, when the head of the department ain’t happy . . .”
Susan finished the ancient expression, usually applied to enormous women called “Mama.” “Ain’t no one happy.”
“Right. Bainbridge still remembers working with us on our first rotation.” Kendall turned his gaze to Pal, mostly left out of the conversation. “Susan was brilliant, as always. Fixed and sent home a score of damaged kids who’d been languishing on the inpatient unit, some of them for years.”
Susan did not care to be reminded. One of those patients had murdered Remington and, nearly, herself.
Pal smiled. “Doesn’t surprise me. Not only that she’s a genius but also that she’s never mentioned rescuing those poor kids.” He gave Susan a withering look. “You know, I’d like to share your successes as well as what’s troubling you.”
Susan defended herself against a conjured accusation. “That was two years ago, long before I met you. Ancient history.”
They all continued to put various amounts of food onto their plates. Kendall contradicted Susan again. “I was only talking about the rotation we both had with the head of Psychiatry. From what I’ve heard, you’re still Sherlock Calvin, mistress of diagnoses.”
Susan made a dismissive noise. She did not want to talk about her prior accomplishments. “So Bainbridge insisted they take me back. And Savage is stuck eating crow.”
Kendall continued to add food to his plate until he had some of every dish. “Not exactly. The attendings held a meeting, and I happened to have a back-row seat.” He did not further explain his presence at what was, presumably, a private conference. “It was less contentious than your average grand rounds.” He referred to a monthly meeting of staff doctors, residents, and rotating students during which they discussed difficult or mortal cases. During those sessions, the attendings frequently made snide comments to one another or openly disdained their peers’ opinions, usually to the great amusement of the residents and students. “Everyone agreed you’d had a difficult couple of years and deserved some extra consideration.” He shrugged. “Tough to argue with that, seeing as you’d been blown up twice and the two closest people in your life were murdered. Hard to fake all that.”
Pal stiffened. “Blown up?”
Kendall grimaced. “Oops, sorry. Was I not supposed to mention that?”
Susan pinned her fellow resident with her gaze. “Pal can handle it. I’ve been ladling out small doses of my past. When you hear it all at once, it’s pretty overwhelming.”
Still grimacing, Kendall said softly, “Sorry.” He clearly meant it.
“It’s fine.” Pal started eating, pausing only to swallow. “I’m serving as her bodyguard, so I really need to know that stuff.” He turned to look at Susan also, his gaze accusatory, then lowered his voice. “But don’t tell her cousin. He’s from small-town Iowa, and he doesn’t even know about today’s shooting. He’d go freaking.”
Kendall’s expression gradually lost its “mea culpa” appearance to slacken into question. “Her cousin. Layton Campbell.” His tone had a hesitant quality, and he made a key-turning motion in front of his lips.
There was no longer any doubt in Susan’s mind. Kendall knows. She could tell by the way Pal stopped chewing and studied his plate that he realized it as well.
Kendall abruptly returned to his original point. “Anyway, several of them brought up your talents, and they won out against those who find you abrasive, especially with Bainbridge speaking on your behalf. They ultimately decided they don’t just want you back. They need you back.”
“Impressive.” Pal grunted, obviously still caught up in trying to decide how to handle Kendall’s knowledge.
“Not really.” Susan explained, “Hospitals are notoriously understaf
fed, and residents are little more than slave labor. If we take off an hour or longer, we have to find someone to cover for us, someone just as exhausted and overworked. It’s easier to crawl in sick than call in sick. The same people who wouldn’t medically clear an office worker with a contagious sniffle look the other way when we have the plague. No one wants to handle the complicated shuffle required to make certain every area is covered medically.”
Kendall could hardly deny it. “Losing a resident, especially an R-3, leaves a lot of gaping holes, Susan. If you don’t return for your own best interests, at least think of what your absence means to your fellow residents, to the entire Department of Psychiatry.”
A year ago, certainly two, that argument would have worked. Now Susan found herself icily detached, strangely unsympathetic. “The attendings will just have to get off their butts and contribute. How horrible! Perhaps Aloise Savage will fill in for me.”
Kendall put down his fork. “So . . . you’re not even going to think about it?”
Susan did the same. “Really? Is that what you believe, Kendall? I left because I don’t give a damn about my future or anyone else?”
Kendall bit down on something, probably a flippant comment. He was, apparently, learning to control his tendency to resort to humor in times of stress. Susan recalled something he had said in their R-1 year, that doctors chose psychiatry because they were driven to understand a significant mental flaw in themselves. He had pointed out the obvious defects in all their fellow residents, but when it came to himself and Susan, he had had more difficulty. He had attributed his choice of psychiatry to wanting to understand why he always took the role of class clown.
They both now knew his sexual orientation had more to do with it or, more properly, his inability to accept his homosexuality to the point where he had fully denied it, covered it, hidden it even from himself. Now that he had diagnosed himself as having ego-dystonic sexual orientation disorder, he relied on verbal absurdity less and less frequently. Susan did not know if it stemmed from gradual understanding and acceptance or was simply because the events of the past couple of years, the violence and danger, had changed him as much as they had her.
Kendall addressed only the question in front of him. “To be honest, Susan, I don’t know what to think. I just can’t fathom what could make someone struggle up Everest in a blizzard, then surrender a stride from the summit, especially when it affects so many others: your fellow doctors, your patients, people who would benefit from your knowledge and talent for decades to come.”
Susan sighed. “Kendall, I’m not the same naïve woman you met the first day of residency. I’m stronger, wiser, and, yes, colder and harder as well. How can I not be?”
Pal continued to eat, head down, politely remaining out of a discussion that did not involve him.
“I’m less naïve, too,” Kendall inserted, “but adversity didn’t turn me stupid.”
That stung. Ungifted in the beauty and athletic areas, Susan had nearly all of her esteem invested in her intelligence. “Oh, so now I’m stupid!”
Kendall grumbled, “If the shoe fits . . .”
Even Pal could not let that go. “Yo, Kendall. That’s out of line. Susan’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.”
Kendall raised a hand to indicate he did not want a physical fight. “I’m not saying she is stupid, only that she’s acting in a . . . stupidish manner.”
Susan said, “I could argue that your use of the nonword ‘stupidish’ makes you sound . . .”
“Stupidish?” Kendall inserted.
Susan found herself smiling despite the previous insult.
That opened the way for Pal to speak again. “You could argue that Susan’s selfish if she doesn’t do . . . almost anything. Everything. She could find the cure for heart disease, so she’s making a terrible mistake if she doesn’t become a medical researcher. She’d be a brilliant cosmetic surgeon, so she’s wrongheaded not to travel around the world fixing birth defects. She’d be an amazing tactician, so she’s unpatriotic if she doesn’t join the military and work her way up to general.”
Kendall turned on Pal. “So you’re the one behind her quitting!”
Outraged, Susan surged to her feet. “When have I ever needed someone else to make my decisions? Pal has nothing to do with this, Kendall. He wasn’t there when Savage issued his ultimatum and I chose to quit rather than force Nate to take the blame for something he didn’t do, something he couldn’t have done.” She lowered her head, fuming, struggling for control. “Right now clearing Nate and Lawrence takes priority over everything, whether anyone else likes it or not. When I’m finished with that job, I’ll consider returning to my residency, if it’s not too late, if they’ll still have me.” Even as she said the words, Susan knew it would never happen. By then, the resentments would have grown too strong. The Department of Psychiatry would have closed the gap, would no longer need her; and her fellow residents would not want her. She would find herself changed even more, unable or unwilling to fit into the mold she had once created for herself.
As rage gave way to stoicism, Susan added tonelessly, “Who’s to say my contribution to science won’t come through robotics? Robots who do for the disabled. Robots who think for the addled. Robots who speak for those who can’t. Robots doing the jobs no human being wants to do, tasks nothing composed of flesh and blood could survive.”
It occurred to Susan that robots could do all of those things at the current time, if only the Frankenstein Complex did not exist. Perhaps my contribution to science will be overcoming that ridiculous prejudice defined by my father, thus opening the way for . . . Her thoughts outpaced her ability to put them into words. Instead, her mind filled with an array of concepts. The tasks robots could perform seemed infinite, and she wanted to become a part of that astounding, robot-filled future. More so than just another psychiatrist mucking around in the human brain.
Kendall had to speak Susan’s name several times to regain her attention. “For those of us still grounded on twenty-first-century Earth, I’m just saying your vast contribution to science can wait a year, can’t it? How could it possibly hurt you to finish your psychiatry residency before moving on to the fate the universe apparently has in store for you?”
The anger finally fully drained from Susan, and she retook her seat. “I didn’t pick the timing, Kendall. I can wait; Lawrence and Nate can’t.”
Kendall took another mouthful of food, chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed before speaking again. “Your points are valid.”
For reasons she could not wholly explain, Susan found this statement uproariously funny. She could not stop herself from laughing before explaining as well as she could. “You’ve both just spent ten minutes extolling my brilliance. Did you really think I hadn’t given this situation any thought at all?”
Kendall continued eating, but Susan could see a slight grin on his face. “Well . . . I’ve seen you act in . . .” He paused, selecting the right words. “Well . . . you and Mitchell Reefes . . .”
Susan got the point. Longer than a year had passed since she had had to deal with the doctor in charge of Winter Wine Dementia Facility, where Susan and Kendall had done their last rotation together. “That man could infuriate Job. Besides I’ve learned to control my temper a lot better since then.”
Kendall’s grin widened. “You mean besides that little display a moment ago.”
Susan returned to her own plate. “A year ago, I would have thrown my food in your face. And flipped over the counter.”
Kendall laughed. “Hardly. All your violence is verbal. I’ve seen you demolish women and castrate men with nothing more than several well-chosen words. I’ve never even heard you swear.”
“F you,” Susan said, but even in jest, she could not say the actual word.
Pal clamped his hands over the sides of his head. “Ouch! My virgin ears can’t take that kin
d of coarseness.”
Kendall laughed again. “’Cause Marines are known for their delicate language.”
The bathroom door swung open, and Nate emerged. Without looking toward the kitchen, he headed silently to the bedroom. Susan heard the thump of the futon legs hitting the floor as it unfolded into a bed.
Still testing Kendall’s knowledge, Susan advanced, “He’s not feeling well.”
Now Pal stopped eating to fix Kendall with his unnerving stare. “So, when did you and Jake get into a conversation about me?”
Kendall stiffened slightly, then turned Pal a chaste expression. “Excuse me?”
Pal did not let up. “I believe you heard me. You and Jake Carson clearly had a discussion about me. . . .” He amended, wagging a finger between himself and Susan, “About us. Shortly before you came here, I’d wager.”
“A quick, friendly conversation just after work, yes. We’re both concerned about Susan. You can understand that.” Kendall’s brow furrowed abruptly. “How did you know, anyway?”
Pal sat back. “By several things you’ve said, it’s clear Susan hasn’t told you anything about me. The only person in Susan’s life who knows my full name and my prior occupation is Jake Carson, and he only just learned those things a few hours ago.”
“Nice sleuthing.” Despite his words, no admiration touched Kendall’s tone. Susan got the impression her coworker and friend had taken an instant disliking to Pal for no clear reason. Kendall’s outburst about Pal’s provoking Susan to quit her residency made it clear he wanted to hold Pal responsible for something negative, even if untrue. He had no way of knowing Susan had not even met Pal until after her altercation with Aloise Savage.
Pal continued to regard Kendall. “It seems you’ve done some sleuthing of your own.”
Kendall rolled his eyes upward in consideration, looking too casual. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, if you’ve figured something out, spill it.”
Kendall’s gaze flicked back to Susan, questioningly.
Susan guessed his discomfort. He had given her a similar look after studying Nate. “You can speak freely, Kendall.” She enunciated each word that followed. “You’re among close and trusted friends.”
Isaac Asimov's I, Robot: To Preserve Page 16