The Corrections

and—”
    “Edwina, I’m completely sympathetic. We all have irrational attachments to the particular chemical coordinates of our character and temperament. It’s a version of the fear of death, right? I don’t know what it will be like not to be me anymore. But guess what. If ’I’m’ not around to tell the difference, then what do ‘I’ really care? Being dead’s only a problem if you know you’re dead, which you never do because you’re dead!”
    “But it sounds like the drug makes everybody the same.”
    “Uh-uh. Beep-beep. Wrong. Because guess what: twopeople can have the same personality and still be individuals. Two people with the same IQ can have completely different knowledge and memories. Right? Two very affectionate people can have completely different objects of affection. Two identically risk-averse individuals may be avoiding completely different risks. Maybe Asian does make us a little more alike, but guess what, Enid. We’re all still individuals.”
    The doctor unleashed an especially lovable smile, and Enid, who calculated that he was netting $62 per consultation, decided that she’d now received her money’s worth of his time and attention, and she did what she’d known she would do since she first laid eyes on the sunny, leonine caplets. She reached into her purse and from the Pleasurelines envelope that held her slot winnings she took a handful of cash and counted out $150.
    “All joy of the Lion,” Hibbard said with a wink as he slid the stack of SampLpaks across his desk. “Do you need a bag for that?”
    With a pounding heart Enid made her way to the bow of the “B” Deck. After the nightmare of the previous day and nights she again had a concrete thing to look forward to; and how sweet the optimism of the person carrying a newly scored drug that she believed would change her head; how universal the craving to escape the givens of the self. No exertion more strenuous than raising hand to mouth, no act more violent than swallowing, no religious feeling, no faith in anything more mystical than cause and effect was required to experience a pill’s transformative blessings. She couldn’t wait to take it . She treaded on air all the way to B11, where happily she saw no sign of Alfred. As if to acknowledge the illicit nature of her mission, she threw the dead bolt on the hall door. Further locked herself inside the bathroom. Raised her eyes to their reflected twins and, on a ceremonial impulse, returned their gaze as she hadn’t in months or maybe years. Pushed one golden Asian through the foil backing of itsSampLpak. Placed it on her tongue and swallowed it with water.
    For a few minutes she brushed and flossed, a bit of oral housekeeping to pass the time. Then with a shudder of cresting exhaustion she went to her bed to lie and wait.
    Golden sunlight fell across the blankets in her windowless room.
    He nuzzled her palm with his warm velvet snout. He licked her eyelids with a tongue both sandpapery and slick. His breath was sweet and gingery.
    When she came awake the cool halogen lighting in the stateroom wasn’t artificial anymore. It was the cool light of sun from behind a momentary cloud.
    I’ve taken the medication, she told herself. I’ve taken the medication. I’ve taken the medication.

    Her new emotional flexibility received a bold challenge the next morning when she rose at seven and discovered Alfred curled up fast asleep in the shower stall.
    “Al, you’re lying in the shower,” she said. “This is not the place to sleep.”
    Having awakened him, she began to brush her teeth. Alfred opened undemented eyes and took stock. “Ugh, I am stiff stiff,” he said.
    “What on earth are you doing in there?” Enid gurgled through a fluoride foam, brushing merrily away.
    “Got all turned around in the night,” he said. “I had such dreams.”
    She found that in the arms of Asian she had new reserves of patience for the wrist-straining wiggle-waggle brushstroke her dentist recommended for the sides of her molars. She watched with low to medium interest as Alfred achieved full uprightness through a multi-stage process of propping, levering, hoisting, bracing, and controlled tipping. A lunatic dhoti of bunched and shredded diapers hung from his loins.“Look at this,” he said, shaking his head. “Would you look at this.”
    “I had the most wonderful night’s sleep,” she answered.

    “And how are our floaters this morning?” roving activities