The Best of Gene Wolfe

“He’s running a fever, dear, and of course he’s blind.”

Little Tib said, “I’m all right.”

Mr. Parker’s voice told him, “You will be when the doctor sees you, George.”

“I can stand up,” Little Tib said. He had discovered that he was sitting on Nitty’s lap, and it embarrassed him.

“You awake now?” Nitty asked.

Little Tib slid off his lap and felt around for his stick, but it was gone.

“You been sleepin’ ever since we were on the train. Never did wake up more than halfway, even when we got off.”

“Hello,” the little girl said. Bam. Bam. Bam.

“Hello,” Little Tib said back to her.

“Don’t let him touch your face, dear. His hands are dirty.”

Little Tib could hear Mr. Parker talking to Nitty, but he did not pay any attention to them.

“I have a baby,” the girl told him, “and a dog. His name is Muggly. My baby’s name is Virginia Jane.” Bam.

“You walk funny,” Little Tib said.

“I have to.”

He bent down and touched her leg. Bending down made his head peculiar. There was a ringing sound he knew was not real, and it seemed to have fallen off him, and to be floating around in front of him somewhere. His fingers felt the edge of the little girl’s skirt, then her leg, warm and dry, then a rubber thing with metal under it, and metal strips like the copper man’s neck going down at the sides. Little Tib reached inside them and found her leg again, but it was smaller than his own arm.

“Don’t let him hurt her,” the woman said.

Nitty said, “Why, he won’t hurt her. What are you afraid of? A little boy like that.”

He thought of his own legs walking down the path, walking through the spinning flowers toward the green city. The little girl’s leg was like them. It was bigger than he had thought, growing bigger under his fingers.

“Come on,” the little girl said. “Mama’s got Virginia Jane. Want to see her?” Bam. “Mama, can I take my brace off?”

“No, dear.”

“I take it off at home.”

“That’s when you’re going to lie down, dear, or have a bath.”

“I don’t need it, Mama. I really don’t. See?”

The woman screamed. Little Tib covered his ears. When they had still lived in the old place and his mother and father had talked too loudly, he had covered his ears like that, and they had seen him and become more quiet. It did not work with the woman. She kept on screaming.

A lady who worked for the doctor tried to quiet her, and at last the doctor herself came out and gave her something. Little Tib could not see what it was, but he heard her say over and over, “Take this; take this.” And finally the woman took it.

Then they made the little girl and the woman go into the doctor’s office. There were more people waiting than Little Tib had known about, and they were all talking now. Nitty took him by the arm. “I don’t want to sit in your lap,” Little Tib said. “I don’t like sitting in laps.”

“You can sit here,” Nitty said. He was almost whispering. “We’ll move Virginia Jane over.”

Little Tib climbed up onto a padded plastic seat. Nitty was on one side of him, and Mr. Parker on the other.

“It’s too bad,” Nitty said, “you couldn’t see that little girl’s leg. I saw it. It was just a little matchstick-sized thing when we set down here. When they carried her in, it looked just like the other one.”

“That’s nice,” Little Tib said.

“We were wondering—did you have something to do with that?”

Little Tib did not know, and so he sat silent.

“Don’t push him, Nitty,” Mr. Parker said.

“I’m not pushing him. I just asked. It’s important.”

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Parker said. “You think about it, George, and if you have anything to tell us, let us know. We’ll listen.”

Little Tib sat there for a long time, and at last the lady who worked for the doctor came and said, “Is it the boy?”

“He has a fever,” Mr. Parker told her.

“We have to get his pattern. Bring him over here.”

Nitty said, “No use.”

And Mr. Parker said, “You won’t be able to take his pattern—his retinas are gone.”