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Crisply she retorted, "It's a classic Neanderthal face. He's very handsome, by
Neanderthal standards." She wondered where she had gotten that from. She knew
practically nothing about what a classic
Neanderthal face was supposed to be like, and nothing whatever about
control thermocouple relay. Reluctantly she nodded.
Jacobs produced an ultrasonic tranquilizer ampoule from his kit and started to
activate it.
"You don't know anything about the appropriate dose," Miss Fellowes said.
The doctor looked at her in surprise. "These doses are calibrated for a body
weight of up to thirty kilograms. This should be well within tolerance."
"Calibrated for a human body weight of up to thirty kilograms, doctor.
This is a Neanderthal child. We don't have any data on their circulatory
systems at all."
Her own line of reasoning startled her. In some chagrin she realized that she
had drawn a distinction between Neanderthals and humans once again. She didn't
seem able to maintain a consistent philosophy about the boy. He is human, she
told herself vehemently. Human, human, human.
He's Timmie and he's human.
But to Jacobs it was an issue not even worth discussing, apparently.
"Even if he were a young gorilla or orangutan, Fellowes, I'd regard this as an
appropriate dose. Human, Neanderthal, what does his circulatory system have to
do with it? It's body mass that matters. -All right, a half dose this time.
Just to take no risks with Hoskins' precious little creature."
"He hasn't moved his bowels since he's been here, Dr. Jacobs. The dislocation
of the trip through time-"
"Well, when he does, suppose you scrape some up off the floor and let me know,
will you?"
"He uses the toilet, doctor," Miss Fellowes said in a tone of ringing
indignation.
Jacobs looked up at her. Surprise and what could have been anger were evident
in his expression; but then he laughed. "You're very quick to defend him, I
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see."
"Yes. Yes, I am. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"I suppose there isn't. -All right, when die boy next uses the toilet, I want
that sample if he happens to move his bowels. I take it he doesn't flush
afterward yet, eh, Fellowes?"
This time both Elliott and Mortenson laughed also. Miss Fellowes didn't share
in the general amusement.
Timmie seemed asleep-passive, at any rate, quiescent, tolerant. Jacobs had no
difficulty opening his mouth to study his dentition. Miss Fellowes, who hadn't
had an opportunity of seeing Timmie's teeth before, stared over
Jacobs' shoulder, afraid that she was going to behold fierce, savage, ape-
like fangs. But no, no: his teeth were nothing like that. They were somewhat
large, larger than a modern child's, and they looked strong, but
"A little powerhouse is what he is. As you've already had reason to discover.
Small for his age and slightly on the thin side but there's no indication of
malnutrition. Once we get that stool sample I'll have some idea of what sorts
of things he'd been eating, but the most probable guess is a high-protein
low-starch diet, pretty much what you'd expect among hunters and gatherers
living in a time of adverse climate."
"Adverse?" Miss Fellowes asked.
"An ice age," Jacobs said, a Hide patronizingly. "That's what was going on
most of the time during the Neanderthal era-a glacial period."
How would you know? she thought belligerently. Were you there? Are you an
anthropologist?
But she held her tongue. Dr. Jacobs was doing everything possible to rub her
the wrong way; but nevertheless he was her colleague now, and they would have
to maintain a civil relationship. For Timmie's sake, if for no other reason.
[19]
Timmie stirred and became restless by the time the medical exam was half over,
and a little while later it was obvious that the tranquilizer had all but worn
off. Which meant that a normal dose for an ordinary child of his size would
have been the correct one, as Jacobs had insisted, and that
"Do you want us to stay?" Mortenson asked.
"No need. Leave me with the boy."
Timmie grew calm as soon as they were gone. Evidently he had already adapted
to Miss Fellowes' company; it was others who still made him nervous. But time
would take care of that, Miss Fellowes thought.
"That wasn't so bad, was it, Timmie? A little poking, a little prodding-but we
have to find out a lot of things about you, don't you see?"
He gazed solemnly at her, saying nothing. _ "You do see, don't you, Timmie?"
He made a little growling sound, two syllables. To her astounded ears, it
sounded like Timmie.
Could it be? Did he know his own name already?
"Say it again! Timmie. Timmie."
He uttered the two muffled syllables again. This time she wasn't so sure that
he was saying Timmie at all. That could have been her own over-eager
imagination. But the possibility was worth following up.
She pointed at him. "Timmie-that's you. Timmie. Timmie. Timmie."
He was staring in silence again.
"And I am-" She pointed to herself, momentarily stymied. Miss Fellowes seemed
like too much of a mouthful. But Edith didn't sound right. Nurse?
No, not right, either. Miss Fellowes it would have to be. "I-Miss Fellowes.
measure.
"Hungry, yes. Time for some high-protein low-starch food. The Ice Age special,
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right, Timmie? Well, let's see what we have here, now-"
[20]
Dr. Mclntyre of the Smithsonian's Department of Anthropology arrived in early
afternoon. Hoskins took the precaution of calling in on the intercom to ask
Miss Fellowes if she thought the boy would be able to handle another visitor
so soon after the last one. She looked across the room. Timmie had eaten
ravenously-an entire flask of some synthetic vitamin drink that Dr.
Jacobs had recommended, plus another bowl of oatmeal and a small piece of
toast, the first solid food she had risked letting him have. Now he was
sitting on the edge of his bed, looking relaxed and contented, kicking his
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