Name Unknown

The transport attendant guided the stretcher deftly through the swinging doors, taking care that the inert figure beneath the sheet was not touched by the doors swinging back into place.

“Another admission!” the Head Nurse groaned, when Roger stopped the stretcher by the Nursing Station.

“‘Fraid so,” Roger smiled broadly and sang softly, “‘Show me the way –show me the way to go home.’”

“Where’s his chart?” the Head Nurse snapped. Roger handed the dark blue loose leaf cover to her.

“This is just great. The face sheet says ‘Name Unknown.’”

“Probably doesn’t speak English,” the attendant said mildly.

“Another Chinese patient, you mean?”

“Looks like this one’s a real weirdo. Don’t speak.”

“Oh, Lord, then he’s probably Serbo-Croatian — or Al banian.”

“Worse than that, Bernice,” Miss Washington said, as she studied the chart. “The diagnosis is ‘Congenital Anomalies.’”

“Wha —aaat!” The Head Nurse pulled the chart from Miss Washington ’s hands, and then murmured, “Sorry, Debra, I didn’t mean to pull it from you like that. What are my nurses supposed to do?” she barked at Roger. “You bring up a patient who doesn’t speak, no meds written, no diet, no vital signs. Did they run blood tests at least? Look at this — the admission sheet wasn’t even filled in. Debra, call the Third Year Medical Student — what’s his name — we’ve got to get some kind of history on this patient.”

“What bed are we going to put him in?” the Ward clerk asked.

Roger flipped through the magazines lying on the counter in the Nursing Station. “Show me the way, show me the way to go home,” he sang.

“Room 32 is empty. May as well put him as close as we can to monitor him until we can get the story on him.”

Frank Lobracca, the Third Year, came scuffling toward the Nursing Station, his sneakers so mottled and spotted he seemed to flaunt their grubbiness as his badge of honor. The dark beard as thick as black steel wool made his broad open face even more benign. Just a word from the Head Nurse and he was helping Roger push the stret cher into the room across from the Nursing Station, and together they shifted the still inert figure onto the bed.

“For such a skinny fellow, he weighs a lot more than I would have figured,” Frank said.

“You’re right,” Roger said.

“How come he’s still in his street clothes? Didn’t they examine him in Emergency?”

“It was pretty crazy down in Emergency this afternoon.”

“Hello,” Frank said to the patient. He stared at the face, studying the skin tone. An odd papery appearance. He touched the forehead, the cheek. Cold. Strangely cold. No movement of the chest. Yet he didn’t look comatose.

“Let me help you out of your clothing,” he offered.

There was no response.

“I need to examine you —— if we’re going to find out what’s wrong.” Still no response. Roger had wandered out. “This is ridi culous,” Frank muttered to himself. He fumbled awkwardly for buttons, zippers, but the garment encasing his slender patient was skintight.

“Ber —nice!” he bellowed.

“What is it now? Can’t you medical students do anything without crying for us nurses to help?” Bernice said, as she bustled into the room.

“Let’s see now,” Bernice murmured. “No zippers, hmmmm…” She ran her hands firmly up and down Name Unknown’s chest. “Here we are.” She slid a finger down the front of his garment. “See, it’s like a Velcro closing. But what’s funny, there’s no sound. None of that horrible sound like a Band-Aid being ripped off.”

“Bernice, you’re a genius.”

“Glad you noticed,” she chuckled. “But whoever made his clothing is the genius. I’ve never seen anything like it. Fits perfect and comes off like a banana skin — easy as pie.”

“Sure, once you figure out where the secret opening is.” Frank put his stethoscope to Name Unknown’s chest. No mus cle development, no nipples, and not the faintest hint of a throb. He felt for glands, other organs. Nothing distinguishable beneath that odd papery skin. Like a banana that had been just peeled, Ber nice had said. That was the closest he could come to an accurate description of this strange creature that lay there, unmoving, unbreathing, yet seemingly alive.

“I’m going to stick you with a needle,” Frank said. “It won’t hurt.” He tied the segment of rubber tubing about the upper arm as if this were to be a routine drawing of bloods. No sign of veins or tendons or muscle. Perhaps the skin was thicker, denser. When he inserted the needle fluid oozed out — viscous and yellowish. He was almost tempted to taste it, because it reminded him of maple syrup. Wouldn’t it represent a breach of manners to do so in front of Name Unknown? He sealed and labeled the vial.

Now he lifted Name Unknown’s left eyelid and shone the ophthalmoscope into the eye. Name Unknown seemed to be staring back at him in a quite natural way, the eye reacting to the light, as most human eyes do. Strange color to the pupils…almost grayish green.

“Well, hello,” Frank said. “You had us pretty worried. Is your blood pressure normally this low?”

The patient did not answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions — to help us find out what’s wrong with you. (Why did this sound so fatuous?) Have you any medical problems? Diabetes? Hypertension? Ever had any surgery? Are your parents living?

No response.

“Do you hear me?”

Name Unknown appeared to be listening intently, eyes wide open.

“I want to lower the sheet — to finish my examination,” Frank said. (Why was he being so — deferential?) Name Unknown did not seem in the least embarrassed, whereas he, Frank, felt pain fully embarrassed to be continuing to probe: No genitalia nor signs of any residual organs, no belly button, ureter or anus, nada, not a blessed clue to help him understand the physiology of the patient!

“How — how do you urinate?” Frank asked. “You know ——pee pee. Caca? Goddmmit,” he finally yelled. “I wish you peo ple would leaarn to speak English!”

“Maybe he’s a Martian,” Bernice said quietly as he stormed into the Nursing Station.

“Sure. Then we can communicate telepathically, and I don’ have to strain my voice.” He slammed down the chart and dashed off toward the elevators.

On chart rounds the following morning Steve Ingersoll, a First Year Medical Student, came into Room 32 with Frank.

“How you feeling today?” Frank said to Name Unknown, try ing to act as though he expected a response.

“I’m feeling better,” an odd hollow voice said.

“Jeesus, can you believe it, do you hear what I’m hearing?” Frank grabbed Steve’s arm. “That’s good. Glad to hear it.”

“You are taking good care of me,” the voice said.

“Can you tell us your name?”

“Name? Name unknown!”

“Steve, I see your lips moving. Comeon, creep, I don’t appreciate your try at humor.”

“Frank, that wasn’t me. My Go—od, Frank, I’m telling you it isn’t me.”

“Cut it, Steve, I saw your lips moving.”

“Let me explain. If I can. I have no vocal chords — therefore, I make use of Steve’s — and his lips. If he weren’t here, I would have no way of answering you.”

“Who are you? What are you?”

“Who? I am a creature — different from you. I come from another planet.”

“You’re telling — I’m trying to accept what you’ve just said. Forgive me if I seem skeptical. Why have you come here?”

“I am curious —— just as you would be. You are different from us. I want to know about you, to understand, to learn how you live.”

“Is our way so different from yours?”

“Well, to begin with — I am more like a tree — you like an ape—animal. The major difference between me and tree is that I have advantage of arms and legs. But I derive nourishment from the atmosphere, excrete waste through walls of cells, like trees.”

“How do you communicate with each other?”

“Interesting question. Body language — movement — twist of trunk, rhythm of movement, gesture.”

“Why didn’t you speak, when I first tried to examine you? The transport attendant was with me. Couldn’t you have used his vocal chords?”

“To tell you the truth, I was still green and confused. Didn’t know your language.”

“In thirty—six hours you’ve learned?”

“I’m a quick read. Enough to communicate with you gentlemen.”

“And if we discharge you, how will you get back to your planet?”

“I have to report back with the results of my study assignment or I’ll fail the course!”

“You’re a student?”

“Yes. I chose Earth as my study project for Interspatial Projections, First Branch.”

“And how are you getting back to your planet?”

“I have a return trip capsule.”

“Well, kid, I’d hate to think that you’re going to base your report on a few days on a medical ward! Wouldn’t you like to meet some of our leaders — at least the mayor of New York — see some of the sights before you head back?”

“Are you out of your cotton pickin’ mind?” Steve yelled, as though he had regained his own voice with difficulty. “If the government gets wind of him here, they’ll have him under security so tight he’ll never get back home.”

“‘Cotton pickin’?” Name Unknown repeated.

“Untranslatable, believe me. Steve brings up a good point. If the government got hold of you, they’d want to study you. They might hold you longer than you would like. Listen, whatever you do, don’t let any other doctor examine you. Just in sist that Dr. Lobracca is your doctor and you refuse to let anyone else examine you. I’ll prepare to discharge you tonight.”

In the elevator Frank and Steve ran into Dr. Fribbler, the chief of the Medical Service, a huge meaty sort of a man with a voice seemingly amplified by a built-in bullhorn and a temper renowned throughout the hospital.

“Hi, Locracca, I’ve been hearing fascinating things about this fellow on 7 East - Congenital Anomalies? I’d like to look him over. He might be a good case to present. Incidentally, have you decided on some surgical intervention?”

“We’re still waiting on a chest consult. You know how slow they are. My feeling is we’d be crazy to try anything surgically — the guy’s too unstable mentally.”

“Let’s discuss it tonight. I’ll be around in a half hour to see him.”

Frank pulled Steve to a halt on the ground floor. “We’d better get back upstairs. If Fribbler sniffs around Name Unknown, he’s in trouble.”

“You know I’m starving? Just when I decide to order a hamburger deluxe.”

Frank raced into Room 32. “Quick, the chief’s planning to examine you. If he checks you out, he won’t let you go.”

“How can he stop me? I have a sheet with patient’s rights listed.”

“Believe me, kid, he can find ways. He’ll say you’re too sick, he’ll declare you a national treasure, which would exempt you from everything — except being treasured. Oh, Jesus, Flibbler’s in the Nursing Station. Get under the bed, quick. Steve, you get in the bed. Do what I say, idiot. I’ll come back in a minute.” Frank slipped out of the room.

A few minutes later he strode in, as Dr. Fribbler was trying to persuade Steve to take off his trousers.

“Dr. Fribbler, I’m sorry, Name Unknown is off the floor. Chest Service finally took him for X-rays. This is Steve Inger soll, our First Year. I gave him permission to grab forty winks because he was so groggy in clinic this morning. But, Steve, whatever made you get into the patient’s bed — was the couch occupied in the office?”

“Look here, Lobracca,” Fribbler spouted, his face livid. “I want you to get one thing straight. This isn’t a Marx Bro thers’ comedy!” With that he stalked out.

“Although it frequently does resemble a zoo,” Frank said, convulsed with laughter.

Name Unknown poked his head out from under the bed. “All clear?” he asked.

“Say, where do you have that space capsule of yours parked?” Frank asked.

Name Unknown waved a hand, and a capsule such as one might take as a vitamin emerged from his ear.

“That? How’s that getting you back?”

“This is what one might term a super-alimentation cap sule. It is so high in calories that when I inject it under the skin, it will generate enormous energy, enabling me to blast off and maintain high speed until I reach Paraver - - my planet.”

“Re — markable,” Frank shook his head in wonderment.

Steve grabbed Frank’s arm. “Blast — blast off?” He was doubled over, emitting puzzling sounds.

“Where’s your respect, Steverino! Restrain yourself. You’ll have to forgive Dr. Ingersoll, Name Unknown, he’s still somewhat immature. And let’s get you ready for discharge, fellow.”

The following morning Bernice waved an envelope in front of Frank’s nose. The note it contained was inscribed in a neat, very precise print:

Dear Frank and Steve,

Thanks for everything. Please tell Dr. Fribbler we on Paraver shall be planning an intergalactic medical conference for January, 2013. We would love to have him as the key speaker.

See you guys around.

Name Unknown

“You know,” Bernice said, “he looked pretty cute when he left. He was wearing Steve’s white pants and that crazy I Love New York sweatshirt you gave him — and the white sneakers. He looked almost human — instead of like a dead banana.”

“Bernice, you’re all right,” Frank said.

“Thought you said I was a genius.”

“I’m going to miss him,” Steve murmured.

“I can always give you a one way ticket to Paraver,” Frank said.

“Before you get to missing him too much,” Bernice said, “here comes Roger with another emergency admission.”