didn't have teeth! But I was old Steve, the immune, the
carrier, the--

"Well, Mr. Cornell?"

I blinked. "Yes, your honor?"

"Which will it be? I am granting you the leniency of selecting which
penalty you prefer."

I could probably rake up a thousand by selling some stock, personal
possessions, and draining my already-weakened bank account. The most
valuable of my possessions was parked in a ditch with a blowout and
probably a bent frame and even so, I only owned about six monthly
payments worth of it.

"Your Honor, I will prefer to pay the fine--if you'll grant me time in
which to go and collect--"

He rapped his desk with his gavel. "Mr. Cornell," he boomed angrily. "A
thief cannot be trusted. Within a matter of minutes you could remove
yourself from the jurisdiction of this court unless a binding penalty is
placed against your person. You may go on your search for money, but
only after posting bond--to the same amount as your fine!"

_Lenient--?_

"However, unless you are able to pay, I have no recourse but to exact
the prison sentence of ninety days. Bailiff--!"

I gave up. It even felt sort of good to give up, especially when the
turn is called by someone too big to be argued with. No matter what, I
was going to take ninety days off, during which I could sit and think
and plan and wonder and chew my fingernails.

The itch in my finger burned again, deep this time, and not at all easy
to satisfy by rubbing it against my trousers. I picked at it with the
thumbnail and the nail caught something hard.

I looked down at the itching finger and sent my perception into it with
as much concentration as I could.

My thumbnail had lifted a tiny circle no larger than the head of a pin.
Blood was oozing from beneath the lifted rim, and I nervously picked off
the tiny patch of hard, hard flesh and watched the surface blood well
out into a tiny droplet. My perception told me the truth: It was
Mekstrom's Disease and not a doubt. The Immune had caught it!

The bailiff tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come along, Cornell!"

And I was going to have ninety days to watch that patch grow at the
inexorable rate of one sixty-fourth of an inch per hour!

XVI

The bailiff repeated, "Come along, Cornell." Then he added sourly, "Or
I'll have to slip the cuffs on you."

I turned with a helpless shrug. I'd tried to lick 'em and I'd tried to
join 'em and I'd failed both. Then, as of this instant when I might h