to the ground again. And she wished with all her heart that she didn't have to read the note. Then conscious of Linnet's eyes upon her, she unfolded the halves of paper. Please don't let Linnet ride the bus home. Call AR 2-9276 when school is over. Ask them to keep her for a day or two until her grandmother comes. Thank you, Linnell Luhrs Miss Peterson tasted the phone number again with silently moving lips. It tasted of her little Mexicano- Chino-the Juvenile Home. 'What does it say, teacher?' asked Linnet. 'It says for you not to go home on the bus,' said Miss Peterson, her thumbnail straightening out a curl of the paper. 'You're to wait.' She looked down at the cramped, close-written line that slanted sharply below the signature. God forgive me, I couldn't let him go away again. 'Well,' Miss Peterson stood up, feeling old and tired. 'I have to go to the office and make a phone call. You stay here and play. Remember, don't go away. Don't move away from here.' 'I won't,' Linnet promised. 'You know what, teacher?' Miss Peterson looked down into Linnet's dark eyes. 'No, what?' 'It's kinds lonesome here, all alone,' said Linnet. 'Yes, it is, dear,' said Miss Peterson, blinking against the sting in her eyes. 'It is kinda lonesome, all alone.' THE EFFECTIVES SUCH THINGS HAPPEN, inevitably, perhaps, since both seek isolation, but the sign post at the junction of the Transcontinental and the narrow secondary road seems a contradiction in terms: AWAY-8 miles EDRU 14-12 miles The association of these two groups is so unlikely that the picture of the sign post is always turning up in magazines, newspapers and TViews under Laugh-a-bit or Smile-While or Whoda Thunkit? Away-in the remote possibility that someone does not remember-is the name chosen by one of the fairly large groups of people who choose to remove themselves, if not from the present age, at least from the spirit of it. They locate in isolated areas, return to the agricultural period wherein horses were the motive power, live exclusively off the land, foreswear most modern improvements and, in effect, withdraw from the world. There are degrees of fervency, ranging from wild-eyed, frantic-bearded, unwashed fanaticism, to an enviable, leisurely mode of living that many express longing for but could never stand for long. These settlements, and their people, are usually called Detaches. EDRU 14, is of course, Exotic Diseases Research Unit # 14. Each unit of EDRU concerns itself with one of the flood of new diseases that either freeload back to Earth from space exploration or spring up in mutated profusion after each new drug moves in on a known disease. Each unit embodies the very ultimate in scientific advancement in power, sources, equipment and know-how. In this particular instance, the Power Beam from the Area Central crossed the small acres and wooded hills of Away to sting to light and life the carefully-fitted-into-its-environment Research Unit while the inhabitants of Away poured candles, cleaned lamp chimneys, or, on some few special occasions, started the small Delco engine in the shed behind the Center Hall and had the flickering glow of electricity for an evening. Despite the fact that EDRU 14 was only across a stone fence from Away, there was practically no overlapping or infringing on one another. Occasionally a resident of Away would rest on his hoe handle and idly watch an EDRU 14 vehicle pass on the narrow road. Or one of the EDRU 14 personnel would glimpse a long-skirted woman and a few scampering children harvesting heaven knows what vegetation from the small wooded ravines or the meadows on EDRU 14's side of the rock fence, but there was no casual, free communication between the so- unlike groups. Except, of course, Ainsworthy. He was the only one at EDRU 14 who fraternized with the residents of Away. His relaxant was, oddly enough, walking, and he ranged the area between the two locales in his off-duty hours, becoming acquainted with many of the people who lived at Away. He played chess-soundly beaten most of the time-with Kemble, their Director-for so they call their head who is chosen in biennial elections. He learned to 'square dance,' a romping folk-type dancing kept alive by groups such as the one at Away, and sometimes brought back odd foods to the Unit that Kitchen refused to mess with. But; after a few abortive attempts to interest others at EDRU 14 in the group at Away, he gave up and continued his association with them without comment. The disease, KVIN, on which EDRU 14 as well as EDRU 9, 11, and 12 was working was a most stubborn one. Even now very little is known of it. It is believed to be an old Earth disease reactivated by some usually harmless space factor that triggers it and, at the same time, mutates it. Even those who have experienced it and, the few miracles, recovered from it, are no help in analyzing it or reducing it to A = the disease, B = the cure. A + B = no further threat to mankind. The only known way to circumvent the disease and prevent death is the complete replacement of all the blood in the patient's body by whole blood, not more than two hours from the donors. This, of course, in the unlikely event that the patient doesn't die at the first impact of the disease which most of them do. Even replacement would often fail. However, it succeeded often enough that each Regional hospital kept a list of available donors to be called upon. This, of course, was after the discovery of CF (Compatible Factor), the blood additive that makes typing of blood before a transfusion unnecessary. In spite of all possible precautions practiced by the Unit, at unhappy intervals the mournful clack of the Healiocopter lifted eyes from the fields of Away to watch another limp, barely breathing, victim of the disease being lifted out to the Central Regional Hospital. Such was the situation when Northen, the Compiler, arrived at EDRU 14-loudly. A Compiler would have been called a troubleshooter in the old days. He compiles statistics, asks impertinent questions, has no reverence for established methods, facts, habits or thoughts. He is never an expert in the field in which he compiles-and never compiles twice in succession in the same field. And very often, a Compiler can come up with a suggestion or observation or neat table of facts that will throw new light on a problem and lead to a solution. 'I don't like questions!' he announced to Ainsworthy at the lunch table his first day at the Unit. 'That's why I like this job of playing detective. I operate on the premise that if a valid question is asked there is an answer. If no answer is possible, the question has no validity!' Ainsworthy blinked and managed a smile, 'And who's to decide if an answer is possible or not?' he asked, wondering at such immaturity in a man of Northen's professional stature. 'I decide!' Northen's laughter boomed. 'Simplifies things. No answer-forget it! But if I think there is an answer-tenacity's my middle name!' 'Then you obviously think there is a clear-cut answer to the question that brought you here,' said Ainsworthy. 'Obviously-' Northen pushed back from the table. 'This is an inquiry into a real problem, not one of those airy nothings-And to forestall another obvious question I'm always being pestered with-I consider that I am only one biological incident in a long line of biological incidents and when I die, the incident of me is finished. I have no brief for all this research into nonsense about soul and spirit and other lives! One life is enough! I'm not greedy!' And his large laughter swung all faces toward him as he lumbered up to the coffee dispenser with his empty cup. Ainsworthy reflectively tapped his own cup on the table top, repressing a sudden gush of dislike for Northen. It was thinking like his that was hampering the Beyond Research Units. How slow! How slow the progress towards answers to the unanswerables! Was it because Believers and Unbelievers alike were afraid of what the answers might be? Northen was back. 'You were at the briefing this morning?' he half-questioned as he sat down massively, his bulk shaking the table. 'Yes.' Ainsworthy inspected his empty cup. 'Something about the odd distribution of cures of KVIN, or, conversely, the deaths from KVIN:' 'That's right,' Northen inhaled noisily of his coffee. 'As you know, a complete blood replacement is the only known cure. Only it doesn't work all the time. Which means,' he waggled a huge forefinger triumphantly, 'that replacement is not the answer! At least not the whole answer. But that's not the question I'm currently pursuing. I want to know why there is a geographical distribution of the cures. KVIN is a fairly scarce disease. We've had less than fifty cases a year in the fifteen years we have studied it-that is, the cases reported to and cared for at a Regional. There have been, undoubtedly, more unreported and untreated, because if a patient is out of reach of a
