Later, the delirium seemed to pass completely, but Dave took no comfort
from that. In its place came a feeling of gloom and apathy. He slept
most of the time, as if not daring to use his little strength even to
think.

Ser Perth stayed near him most of the time now. The man was obviously
worried, but tried not to show it. "We've managed to get some
testosterone from a blond homunculus," he reported. "That should put you
on your feet in no time. Don't worry, young man we'll keep you vivified
somehow until the Sign changes." But he didn't sound convincing.

"Everyone is chanting for you," Nema told him. "All over the world, the
chants go up."

It meant nothing to him, but it sounded friendly. A whole world hoping
for him to get well! He cheered up a bit at that until he found out that
the chants were compulsory, and had nothing to do with goodwill.

The iron lung was back the next time he came to, and he was being tugged
toward it. He noticed this time that there was no sylph, and his
breathing seemed to be no worse than usual. But the sight of the two
orderlies and the man in medical uniform beside the lung reassured him.
Whatever their methods, he was convinced that they were doing their best
for him here.

He tried to help them get him into the lung, and one of the men nodded
encouragingly. But Dave was too weak to give much assistance. He glanced
about for Nema, but she was out on one of her infrequent other duties.
He sighed, wishing desperately that she were with him. She was a lot