level; previous clinical studies and ward work exemplary, but a marked deterioration has been noted over the past three weeks; psychological investigation requested by Senior Tutor Mannen before finalizing its promotion. Present living quarters Level 111, Room 18.
The note said, “Maybe it’s just homesick, or at 87 is having a midlife crisis. Talk to it, find out what if anything is going wrong in ts mind, but leave the hobnailed boots in your quarters.”
Plainly, O’Mara thought, Craythorne was still trying hard to be nasty.
Unless it was on the recreation deck or socializing somewhere, Thornnastor’s duty schedule placed it in its quarters an hour before it was due to retire for the night. As he left the elevator on OneEleven and found the right door number, he wondered if it was one of the snorers. He heard and felt the deck vibration as it approached and opened its door.
“My name is O’Mara,” he said, trying not to feel intimidated by a highly intelligent six-legged elephant who might or might not be emotionally disturbed, “from the Other-Species Psychology Department. If it’s convenient, I’d like to talk to you.”
“I know of you, O’Mara” said Thornnastor. “Come in. The inconvenience will be all yours if you have no prior experience of my species’ lack of furniture. I suggest that you sit on the edge of the sleeping pit.”
Thornnastor’s accommodation was a large, empty cube rendered small by the size of the occupant. The walls were covered by pictures of home-world scenery and images too strange for O’Mara to even guess at what they might be, and a few trailing pieces of strong-smelling, decorative vegetation that partly concealed the door to the bathroom. A thick, semicircular shelf carrying a lighted viewscreen, a recorder, and lecture tapes was the only piece of furniture that projected from the walls. The deep, rectangular, Tralthan-sized sleeping recess in the center of the floor was entered by a sloping ramp. O’Mara moved down the ramp until the edge of the floor was level with the back of his knees, half turned, and sat down. He pressed his palms briefly into the thick, soft material that covered the floor.
“Thank you,” he said, trying to find something complimentary to say. “This is very comfortable.”
“My species does not require a high level of physical comfortP said Thornnastor. “The padding is there to deaden the sound of my footfalls so as not to inconvenience my neighbors with sound pollution. ‘While I welcome a legitimate interruption in my studies…” It pointed a tentacle at the lighted viewscreen. “. . I would prefer it not to be a waste of time?
The mind tape it was carrying had been donated by a Kelgian, O’Mara thought, and it was obvious that the host’s behavior was being influenced by the donor, so a polite, roundabout approach would also be redundant.
“I’ve no intention of wasting your time or mine,” he said. “Senior Tutor Mannen has asked me to talk about the recent deterioration in your work which, because it has previously been of such a high standard, is causing us concern. The continuing decline became apparent a few days after you were impressed with a Kelgian DBLF mind tape, so we suspect a psychological component to your problem. Would you care to comment?”
Thornnastor turned one of its eyes in the direction of the viewscreen, followed by a tentacle tip, which switched it off; then all four of its eyes curled down to look at O’Mara. A few moments passed without a reply.
“If you are taking time to make a considered and accurate answer,” said O’Mara, “I can wait. But if you are unwilling to speak, why not?”
The Tralthan made a muted, foghorn sound that did not translate and otherwise remained silent. O’Mara sighed.
“There have been complaints of noise in this area during rest periods,” he went on. “The matter is being dealt with. But sleep deprivation can seriously affect the ability to concentrate. Is that the problem?”
“N&’ said Thornnastor.
“Is the behavior or a lack of understanding of your colleagues or the teaching staff affecting you?” he continued. “Has anything they have done or said made you feel insecure? Are you having an emotional or perhaps a sexual involvement with someone?”
“No” the Tralthan repeated.
“Then has it something to do with the mind tape?” he persisted.
The other remained silent.
I should have studied dentistry, he thought. This is like pulling teeth.
“Plainly there is a problem with your Educator tape” said O’Mara patiently, “which it is my job to help you solve. But we can’t solve it unless I know what it is. I have the feeling that you would like to talk about it. Please do so.”
Thornnastor made another untranslatable sound so deep that it seemed to vibrate his bones. Then it said, “This is stupid, ridiculous. There’s no reason why I should feel this way.”
“Whether or not it is stupid or ridiculous” said O’Mara, “is a purely subjective judgment on your part and as such has questionable value, as is the apparent lack of reason for your present feelings. Take as much time as you need to describe those feelings.”
The Tralthan raised and stamped the floor with its two middle feet. O’Mara felt the vibration even through the floor padding. In a Tralthan, he reassured himself, it was supposed to be a sign of extreme irritation, perhaps of self-irritation in this case. It was also an indication, he hoped, that the other was going to speak.
“I am being afflicted with intense feelings of homesickness” said Thornnastor in a low, ashamed voice, “for people and a planet I have never known. I’m supposed to have a stable, well-integrated mind. It is ridiculous and stupid to feel this way.
So it was the mind tape. O’Mara thought. At least he knew where the problem lay, and that, according to the unwritten laws of Major Craythorne, meant that he had taken the first step toward solving it. But it was beginning to look as if he was trying to analyze two patients here, the one presently looming over him and the tape donor at the other end of the galaxy who might not even be alive.
He said, “Not necessarily. The trouble may lie in the tape donor’s mind rather than yours. You know that mind from the inside. Tell me about it.”
“No,” said Thornnastor. He waited but that was all it would say. For some reason Thornnastor had gone into silent mode again.
“This isn’t helping either of us” said O’Mara. “Why won’t you tell me about this person’s mind? The communication is privileged and nothing you can tell me will have any possible effect on a tape donor whose mind is just a recording that cannot be hurt or helped or changed in any way, and who may well be dead by now. You are intelligent enough to be aware of this. Well?”
There was another long silence. He tried again.
“Regardless of species,” said O’Mara, “the beings who are invited to provide our mind tapes are the top people in their home worlds’ medical profession. But individuals who climb to the top, as we both know, are not always nice people. You already know that it is not just the donor’s medical or surgical skill that is impressed on a recipient’s mind, it is all of the memories, feelings, pet hates, prejudices, and psychological hangups, if any, that are transferred as well. You are required to ignore, for the period that the donor tape is in your mind and as far as you are able, all this nonmedical baggage and concentrate only on the medical material you need for your current project. Nobody thinks this is easy, and I can only imagine what—”
“You can have no understanding of what an other-species mind tape feels like” Thornnastor broke in, “unless you take the same mind impression. How otherwise can you possibly know or feel what I’m feeling?”
Even though it was a legitimate question, O’Mara had to control his irritation as he replied, “I was impressed with a mind tape only once, and briefly, to become acquainted with the mental disorientation that occurs when a completely alien personality is sharing one’s mind, so you’re wrong in thinking that I’m completely ignorant of the effects. But I am forbidden to take your tape or any other because it is my job as an Earth-human therapist to be objective, well-balanced, and self-aware so that I can work to remove the emotional problems in your mind. With an other-species mind partner muddying the mental water that would not be easy. This is the department’s policy. I don’t need to know what your tape donor felt in its past but what you are feeling now. Is this clear?”
“Yes.”
“Then talk to meg’ said O’Mara.
