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the memory of mars
By RAYMOND F. JONES
_"As soon as I'm well we'll go to Mars for a vacation again," Alice would say. But now she was dead, and the surgeons said she was not even human. In his misery, Hastings knew two things: he loved his wife; but they had never been off Earth!_
A reporter should be objective even about a hospital. It's his businessto stir others' emotions and not let his own be stirred. But that was nogood, Mel Hastings told himself. No good at all when it was Alice whowas here somewhere, balanced uncertainly between life and death.
Alice had been in Surgery far too long. Something had gone wrong. He wassure of it. He glanced at his watch. It would soon be dawn outside. ToMel Hastings this marked a significant and irrevocable passage of time.If Alice were to emerge safe and whole from the white cavern of Surgeryshe would have done so now.
Mel sank deeper in the heavy chair, feeling a quietness within himselfas if the slow creep of death were touching him also. There was a suddenfar distant roar and through the window he saw a streak of brightness inthe sky. That would be the tourist ship, the Martian Princess, heremembered.
That was the last thing Alice had said before they took her away fromhim. "As soon as I'm well again we'll go to Mars for a vacation again,and then you'll remember. It's so beautiful there. We had so much fun--"
Funny, wonderful little Alice--and her strange delusion that she stillclung to, that they had taken a Martian vacation in the first year oftheir marriage. It had started about a year ago, and nothing he couldsay would shake it. Neither of them had ever been to space.
He wished now he had taken her. It would have been worth it, no matterwhat its personal cost. He had never told her about the phobia that hadplagued him all his life, the fear of outer space that made him breakout in a cold sweat just to think of it--nor of the nightmare that cameagain and again, ever since he was a little boy.
There must have been some way to lick this thing--to give her thatvacation on Mars that she had wanted so much.
Now it was too late. He knew it was too late.
* * * * *
The white doors opened, and Dr. Winters emerged slowly. He looked at MelHastings a long time as if trying to remember who the reporter was. "Imust see you--in my office," he said finally.
Mel stared back in numb recognition. "She's dead," he said.
Dr. Winters nodded slowly as if in surprise and wonder that Mel haddivined this fact. "I must see you in my office," he repeated.
Mel watched his retreating figure. There seemed no point in following.Dr. Winters had said all that need be said. Far down the corridor theDoctor turned and stood patiently as if understanding why Mel had notfollowed, but determined to wait until he did. The reporter stirred androse from the chair, his legs withering beneath him. The figure of Dr.Winters grew larger as he approached. The morning clatter of thehospital seemed an ear-torturing shrillness. The door of the officeclosed and shut it out.
"She is dead." Dr. Winters sat behind the desk and folded and unfoldedhis hands. He did not look at Mel. "We did everything we could, Mr.Hastings. Her injuries from the accident were comparatively minor--" Hehesitated, then went on. "In normal circumstances there would have beenno question--her injuries could have been repaired."
"What do you mean, 'In normal circumstances--'?"
Dr. Winters turned his face away from Mel for a moment as if to avoidsome pain beyond endurance. He passed a weary hand across his foreheadand eyes and held it there a moment before speaking. Then he faced Melagain. "The woman you brought in here last night--your wife--iscompletely un-normal in her internal structure. Her internal organscannot even be identified. She is like a being of some other species.She is not--she is simply not human, Mr. Hastings."
Mel stared at him, trying to grasp the meaning of the words. Meaningwould not come. He uttered a short, hysterical laugh that was like abark. "You're crazy, Doc. You've completely flipped your lid!"
Dr. Winters nodded. "For hours during the night I was in agreement withthat opinion. When I first observed your wife's condition I wasconvinced I was utterly insane. I called in six other men to verify myobservation. All of them were as stupefied as I by what we saw. Organsthat had no place in a human structure. Evidence of a chemistry thatexisted in no living being we had ever seen before--"
The Doctor's words rolled over him like a roaring surf, burying,smothering, destroying--
"I want to see." Mel's voice was like a hollow cough from far away. "Ithink you're crazy. I think you're hiding some mistake you madeyourself. You killed Alice in a simple little operation, and now you'retrying to get out of it with some crazy story that nobody on earth wouldever believe!"
"I want you to see," said Dr. Winters, rising slowly. "That's why Icalled you in here, Mr. Hastings."
* * * * *
Mel trailed him down the long corridor again. No words were spokenbetween them. Mel felt as if nothing were real anymore.
They went through the white doors of Surgery and through the innerdoors. Then they entered a white, silent--cold--room beyond.
In the glare of icy white lights a single sheeted figure rested on atable. Mel suddenly didn't want to see. But Dr. Winters was drawing backthe cover. He exposed the face, the beloved features of Alice Hastings.Mel cried out her name and moved toward the table. There was nothing inher face to suggest she was not simply sleeping, her hair disarrayed,her face composed and relaxed as he had seen her hundreds of times.
"Can you stand to witness this?" asked Dr. Winters anxiously. "Shall Iget you a sedative?"
Mel shook his head numbly. "No--show me ..."
The great, fresh wound extended diagonally across the abdomen andbranched up beneath the heart. The Doctor grasped a pair of smallscissors and swiftly clipped the temporary sutures. With forceps andretractors he spread open the massive incision.
Mel closed his eyes against the sickness that seized him.
"Gangrene!" he said. "She's full of gangrene!"
Below the skin, the surface layers of fatty tissue, the substance of thetissue changed from the dark red of the wounded tissue to a dark andgreenish hue that spoke of deadly decay.
But Dr. Winters was shaking his head. "No. It's not gangrene. That's theway we found the tissue. That appears to be its--normal condition, ifyou will."
Mel stared without believing, without comprehending.
Dr. Winters probed the wound open further. "We should see the stomachhere," he said. "What is here where the stomach should be I cannot tellyou. There is no name for this organ. The intestinal tract should liehere. Instead, there is only this homogeneous mass of greenish,gelatinous material. Other organs, hardly differentiated from this mass,appear where the liver, the pancreas, the spleen should be."
Mel was hearing his voice as if from some far distance or in a dream.
"There are lungs--of a sort," the Doctor went on. "She was certainlycapable of breathing. And there's a greatly modified circulatory system,two of them, it appears. One circulates a blood substance in the outerlayers of tissue that is almost normal. The other circulates a liquidthat gives the remainder of the organs their greenish hue. But howcirculation takes place we do not know. She has no heart."
* * * * *
Mel Hastings burst out in hysterical laughter. "Now I know you're crazyDoc! My tender, loving Alice with no heart! She used to tell me, 'Ihaven't got any brains. I wouldn't have married a dumb reporter if Idid.
But so I've got a heart and that's what fell in love with you--myheart, not my brains.' She loved me, can't you understand that?"
Dr. Winters was slowly drawing him away. "I understand. Of course Iunderstand. Come with me now, Mr. Hastings, and lie down for a littlewhile. I'll get you something to help take away the shock."
Mel permitted himself to be led away to a small room nearby. He drankthe liquid the Doctor brought, but he refused to lie down.
"You've shown me," he said with dull finality. "But I don't care whatthe explanation is. I knew Alice. She was human all right, more so thaneither you or I. She was completely normal, I tell you--all except forthis idea she had the last year or so that we'd gone together on avacation to Mars at one
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