Regional Hospital and immediate treatment, he's dead in four hours or less. But we've had enough cases that a pattern is emerging.' He hunched closer to the table and Ainsworthy rescued his cup and the sugar dispenser from tumbling to the floor. 'Look. A gets a dose of KVIN on the West Coast. Quick, quick! San Fran Regional. Replacement. Too bad. Dead as a mackerel. Now look. B and C gets doses at Albuquerque. Quick, quick! Denver Regional! Replacement. B lives dies. Personal idiosyncrasies? Perhaps, except without exception all A's die. Half of B's and C's live! ' And D gets a dose at Creston. Quick, quick! Central Regional! D always recovers! Same technique. Same handling of blood. Same every thing except patients. So. Different strains of KVIN? After all, different space ports- different space sectors-different factors. So, E picks up a dose on the Coast. Quick, quick! Central Regional. Replacement. Recovery!' Northen hunched forward again, crowding the table tight against Ainsworthy. 'So transport all the A's and B's and C's to Central? Not enough blood supply. Bring in more from other Regionals. It won't work at Central any better than where it came from! So-See? An answer to find and definitely in this area. Now all I need is a case to follow through to get me started.' It had fallen to Ainsworthy to escort Northen about the Unit, to acquaint him with the area and answer any questions he might have concerning procedures and facilities. The two were in the small public lounge one afternoon, pausing between activities while Northen groaned over his aching feet and legs. 'I'm used to skidders,' he boomed. 'Faster, more efficient, less wearing on the legs! Just step on, toe the switch-swish!' He gestured with a massive arm. 'This Unit is really too small for skidders,' said Ainsworthy. 'Occasionally we use flitters out in the grounds, but only a few bother. Most of us enjoy walking. I do especially, since it's my relaxant.' 'Really?' Northen peered in astonishment at Ainsworthy. 'Imagine! Walking by choice!' 'What's your relaxant?' Ainsworthy asked, remembering his manners. 'Blowing up balloons,' said Northen proudly, 'until they break! Bang! Wham!' His arms flailed again. 'There's satisfaction for you! They're finished! Gone! Destroyed! Only a rag of rubber and a puff of carbon dioxide left! And I did it!' 'Pleasant,' murmured Ainsworthy, automatically falling into polite phraseology, wishing Northen's eyes would not follow so intently every face that passed, knowing he was waiting for someone to collapse from KVIN. He wasn't long disappointed. As they toured Lab IIIC a few days later, one of the lab assistants, Kief, carefully replacing the beaker he had been displaying, took tight hold of the edge of the table, drew a quavering breath, whispered, 'Away!' and collapsed as though every bone in his body had been dissolved, his still-open eyes conscious and frightened. In the patterned flurry that followed, Northen was omnipresent, asking sharp questions, making brief notes, his rumpled hair fairly bristling with his intense interest and concentration. The Healiocopter arrived and, receiving the patient, clacked away. Ainsworthy and Northen, in one of the Unit vehicles-a mutation of the jeep-swung out of the Unit parking lot and roared down the road to Central Regional, Northen struggling with the seat belt that cut a canyon across his bulk. Northen peered at his notes as they bounced along. 'How'd this Kief person know he had KVIN?' he asked. 'Don't know exactly,' said Ainsworthy. 'It varies from person to person. Clagget-the one before Kief, said a big brightness seemed to cut him in two right across the chest and then his legs fell off. Others feel all wadded up into a sticky black ball. Others feel as though each cell in their bodies is being picked away as if from a bunch of grapes. I guess it depends a lot on the person's imagination and his facility with words.' 'And when he said, `Away' just before he collapsed. That was part of this picking away idea?' 'No,' Ainsworthy felt a surge of reluctance. 'Away is the settlement next to our Unit –a Detach.' 'A Detach!' Ainsworthy smiled slightly, his ears battening down hatches against Northen's expected roar. 'Don't tell me you have any of those-!' He bit off the last part of his sentence and almost the tip of his tongue as the jeep regrettably bucketed up over a hump in the road. 'The people from Away are our main source of donors for replacements,' said Ainsworthy over Northen's muttered curses. 'In fact, they've adopted it as a community project. Regional knows it never has to look farther than Away for an adequate number of donors-as long as the cases don't come too close together, which, so far, they never have.' They had arrived at the turn-off to Away and jolted off the fairly good Unit road to the well- maintained dirt road to the settlement. 'Surprises me that they'll give anything to the world. Thought they gave it up along with the Flesh and the Devil!' grunted Northen, lisping a little. 'Maybe the World, but not the people in it,' said Ainsworthy. 'The most generous people I know. Unselfish' He fell silent against Northen's barely contained disgust. 'Why'd we turn off here?' asked Northen. 'Thought we were headed for Regional.' 'No telephones,' said Ainsworthy, swinging between the stone gateposts of the drive to the Center. 'Have to alert them.' He was gratified that Northen fell immediately into the almost silent role of observer and kept his thoughts to himself. Kemble met them at the door. 'KVIN?' he asked, reading Ainsworthy's sober face. 'Yes,' said Ainsworthy. 'It's Kief. You probably heard the Healiocopter. Who's available?' 'Providentially, the workers are all in from the fields.' Kemble stepped back inside the Center, and, tugging the bell rope that hung just inside the door, swung the bell into voice. Ten minutes later he spoke from the Center porch to the crowd that had gathered from the stone and log houses that, with the Center, formed a hollow square of buildings backed by the neat home vegetable gardens, backed in their turn by wood lands and the scattered areas where each family grew its field and cash crops. 'KVIN,' said Kemble. 'Who's available?' Quickly a sub-group formed, more than twice as many as were needed if all were accepted. The others scattered back to their individual pursuits. Kemble gathered the donors together, briefly, speaking so quietly that Northen rumbled to Ainsworthy, 'What's he saying? What's going on?' 'They always pray before any important project,' said Ainsworthy neutrally. 'Pray!' Northen crumpled his notebook impatiently. 'Wasting time. How they going to get to Regional? One hoss shay?' 'Relax!' snapped Ainsworthy, defensive for his friends. 'These people have been personally involved in KVIN lots longer than you have. And they're going nowhere.' Kemble turned back to Ainsworthy and accepted calmly the introduction to Northen, reading his attitude in a glance and smiling faintly over it at Ainsworthy. He excused himself and called, 'Justin, you're co-ordinator today.' Most of the interior of the Center was one huge room, since it served as meeting and activity center for the settlement. Under Justin's direction, closet doors were opened, cots were unfolded and arranged in neat rows down the hall. Equipment was set up, lines of donors were formed, and everything was in readiness by the time the Bloodmobile clacked out of the sky and pummeled the grass in the hollow square with the tumult of its rotors. One by one the donors were given essential checks by means of a small meter applied to an ear lobe, and were accepted or rejected with quick efficiency. Northen stood glowering at the scene of quiet activity. 'Why can't they go to Regional like any other humans?' 'Any particular reason why they should?' asked Ainsworthy shortly. 'They're a willing, never-failing source, and have been since our Unit was established. Why shouldn't we cater to them? It doesn't jeopardize any of our operations.' For a moment longer they watched the quiet rows of cots and their intent occupants, then Northen, with a grimace of annoyance, turned away. 'Let's get to Regional,' he said. 'I want to follow this through, inch by inch.' 'But there's got to be a difference!' Red-faced and roaring, Northen thumped on the desk in Isolation at Regional. 'There's got to be! Why else do KVIN's recover here?' 'You tell us.' Dr. Manson moved back in distaste from Northen's thrust-out face. 'That's your job. Find out
