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THE OTHER by Katherine MacLean TREE SHADOWS MOVED on the grey linoleum of the hospital floor, swaying like real leaves and twigs. Joey blurred his eyes to make the leaf shadows green. The floor quivered slightly to foam-padded footsteps, and a man-shaped shadow appeared across the sunlight. That was Dr. Armstrong. He was kind. He always walked softly and then stood and shuffled when he hoped you would notice him. The feet shuffled hopefully. When Joey concentrated on the doctor's shadow he could turn the head part pink, like a face. Dr. Armstrong's voice said something. It was a pleasant light tenor voice, a little anxious. "What did he say?" Joey asked the Other, the one in his head who listened and calculated. And explained. "He asked How are you?" "What did he mean?" "He wants you to get up and be busy, like him," said the cool advice of his Other—his guardian and advisor. "That's what they all want." "Not right now. I am watching the leaves. What shall we tell him?" "Tell him, Just about the same." Joey made the effort, and spoke, hearing his own voice very close to his cars. He was ready to turn and look out the window now, but the doctor's feet were beside him, anxiously demanding his attention, afraid he would turn away. "What did he say?" Joey
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