DIAGNOSIS
By R. A. Palmer
Illustrated by H. W. McCauley
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Other Worlds March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Take two men and one girl—the eternal triangle—and mix well with an oscilloscope gone haywire. What comes out? With ingredients like these, the result is adventure, terror and, of course, romance.
"What time did you get to bed last night?"
"Oh, about ... well, fairly early."
"Who were you out with?"
"Brannan."
"Then you didn't get to bed early! If you got in by three, it would be early, if I know Brannan."
"I got in much before three!"
"How much?"
"Oh ... enough. You'd be surprised...."
"I'm sure I would! Mary, how do you expect us to get anywhere with this experiment if you come in dog-tired?"
"Donald Jensen, I'm not dog-tired. It's you who's got me in bed in the wee hours, not me! I came in early."
"Then why won't you state the exact time?" he was exasperated.
She smiled at him archly. "I don't remember, exactly."
"You don't seem to have much of a memory for anything when it comes to Brannan. What you see in a guy like that, I don't know."
"What's wrong with him?"
"Not a thing. He's a nice guy. Quiet, respectable, deep—and only one thing on his mind."
"What?"
He glared at her. "You're a smart girl," he said. "You work with me in this laboratory eight hours a day. You are engaged in a very complex experiment with the human brain, registering its waves and emanations in relation to thought, emotions and purely psychological relations. You've got a degree in psychology, another in psychiatry, a third in biology. You have written several advanced papers on the functions of the subconscious mind and its effect on the conscious mind. You have kept this job for three years, exacting as it is. You're a brilliant girl. And yet you can ask a stupid question like that!"
She smiled at him even more brightly. "What's stupid about it?"
He stared at her, then suddenly grinned back. "Okay, you're ribbing me. But dammit, you let a guy like Brannan soft-soap you and squire you all around the town, and eat it up, and when I pay you a legitimate compliment, you act like ... like a woman!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jensen, sir," she said. "I didn't mean to forget we are working in a scientific laboratory and that you are my boss. We are both men, working on a man's job—"
He groaned. "Okay, you win. But will you quit rubbing in that silly statement I made when I hired you? Sure, I said it was a man's job, and I wanted it handled like a man. But you needn't grow a beard over it!"
"Might be a good idea. Then when you fire me for being dog-tired, I could get a job in a circus."
"Yes, and if you bungle this morning's experiment, I may be able to get a job in a nuthouse!"
She was instantly contrite. "Oh Don, I won't! But why don't you do the hard work, and let me be the subject? Then if anything goes wrong, all your work won't be lost...."
"Nuts. You know as much about it as I do. And besides, what if I accidentally picked up your emotional seat and found out what time Brannan really brought you in last night?"
