The Complete Stories_ Volume 1 - Isaac Asimov [97]
They sat on separate little chairs then and waited again. Names were called again and “George Platen”
came third.
He moved into a large room, filled with frightening instruments with knobs and glassy panels in front. There was a desk in the very center, and behind it a man sat, his eyes on the papers piled before him. He said, “George Platen?”
“Yes, sir,” said George in a shaky whisper. All this waiting and all this going here and there was making him nervous. He wished it were over.
The man behind the desk said, “I am Dr. Lloyed, George. How are you?”
The doctor didn’t look up as he spoke. It was as though he had said those words over and over again and didn’t have to look up any more.
“I’m all right.”
“Are you afraid, George?”
“N—no, sir,” said George, sounding afraid even in his own ears.
“That’s good,” said the doctor, “because there’s nothing to be afraid of, you know. Let’s see, George. It says here on your card that your father is named Peter and that he’s a Registered Pipe Fitter and your mother is named Amy and is a Registered Home Technician. Is that right?”
“Y—yes, sir.”
“And your birthday is February 13, and you had an ear infection about a year ago. Right?”
‘‘Yes, sir.”
“Do you know how I know all these things?”
“It’s on the card, I think, sir.”
“That’s right.” The doctor looked up at George for the first time and smiled. He showed even teeth and looked much younger than George’s father. Some of George’s nervousness vanished.
The doctor passed the card to George. “Do you know what all those things there mean, George?”
Although George knew he did not he was startled by the sudden request into looking at the card as though he might understand now through some sudden stroke of fate. But they were just marks as before and he passed the card back. “No, sir.”
“Why not?”
George felt a sudden pang of suspicion concerning the sanity of this doctor. Didn’t he know why not?
George said, “I can’t read, sir.”
“Would you like to read?”
‘‘Yes, sir.’’
“Why, George?”
George stared, appalled. No one had ever asked him that. He had no answer. He said falteringly, “I don’t know, sir.”
“Printed information will direct you all through your life. There is so much you’ll have to know even after Education Day. Cards like this one will tell you. Books will tell you. Television screens will tell you. Printing will tell you such useful things and such interesting things that not being able to read would be as bad as not being able to see. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you afraid, George?”
No, sir.’’
Good. Now I’ll tell you exactly what we’ll do first. I m going to put these wires on your forehead just over the corners of your eyes. They’ll stick there but they won’t hurt at all. Then, I’ll ~ on something that will make a buzz. It will sound funny and it may tickle you, but it won’t hurt. Now if it does hurt, you tell me, and I’ll turn it off right away, but it won’t hurt. All right?”
George nodded and swallowed.
“Are you ready?”
George nodded. He closed his eyes while the doctor busied himself. His parents had explained this to him. They, too, had said it wouldn’t hurt, but then there were always the older children. There were the ten- and twelve-year-olds who howled after the eight-year-olds waiting for Reading Day, “Watch out for the needle.”
There were the others who took you off in confidence and said, “They got to cut your head open. They use a sharp knife that big with a hook on it,” and so on into horrifying details.
George had never believed them but he had had nightmares, and now closed his eyes and felt pure terror. He didn’t feel the wires at his temple. The buzz was a distant thing, and there was the sound of his own blood in his ears, ringing hollowly as though it and he were in a large cave. Slowly he chanced opening his