The Sex Opposite - Theodore Sturgeon, ebook, Temp
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The Sex OppositeTheodore SturgeonBudgie slid into the laboratory without knocking, as usual.She was flushed and breathless, her eyes bright with speed and eagerness. "Whatcha got, Muley?"Muhlenberg kicked the morgue door shut before Budgie could get in line with it. "Nothing," he said flatly, "and of all the people I don't want to see—and at the moment that means all the people there are—you head the list. Go away."Budgie pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into an oversized shoulder bag, which she hurled across the laboratory onto a work surface. "Come on, Muley. I saw the meat-wagon outside. I know what it brought, too. That double murder in the park. Al told me.""Al's jaw is one that needs more tying up than any of the stiffs he taxis around," said Muhlenberg bitterly. "Well, you're not getÂting near this pair."She came over to him, stood very close. In spite of his annoyance, he couldn't help noticing how soft and full her lips were just then. Just then—and the sudden realization added to the annoyance. He had known for a long time that Budgie could turn on mechanisms that made every one of a man's ductless glands purse up its lips and blow like a trumpet. Every time he felt it he hated himself. "Get away from me," he growled. "It won't work.""What won't, Muley?" she murmured.Muhlenberg looked her straight in the eye and said something about his preference for raw liver over Budgie-times-twelve.The softness went out of her lips, to be replaced by no particuÂlar hardness. She simply laughed good-naturedly. "All right, you're immune. I'll try logic.""Nothing will work," he said. "You will not get in there to see those two, and you'll get no details from me for any of that couche-con-carne stew you call a newspaper story.""Okay," she said surprisingly. She crossed the lab and picked up her handbag. She found a glove and began to pull it on. "Sorry I interrupted you, Muley. I do get the idea. You want to be alone."His jaw was too slack to enunciate an answer. He watched her go out, watched the door close, watched it open again, heard her say in a very hurt tone, "But I do think you could tell me why you won't say anything about this murder."He scratched his head. "As long as you behave yourself, I guess I do owe you that." He thought for a moment. "It's not your kind of a story. That's about the best way to put it.""Not my kind of a story? A double murder in Lover's Lane? The maudlin mystery of the mugger, or mayhem in Maytime? No kidÂding, Muley—you're not serious!""Budgie, this one isn't for fun. It's ugly. Very damn ugly. And it's serious. It's mysterious for a number of other reasons than the ones you want to siphon into your readers.""What other reasons?""Medically. Biologically. Sociologically.""My stories got biology. Sociology they got likewise; stodgy truÂisms about social trends is the way I dish up sex in the public prints, or didn't you know? So—that leaves medical. What's so strange medically about this case?""Good night, Budgie.""Come on, Muley. You can't horrify me.""That I know. You've trod more primrose pathology in your research than Krafft-Ebing plus eleven comic books. No, Budgie. No more."*******"Dr. F.L. Muhlenberg, brilliant young biologist and special medical consultant to the City and State Police, intimated that these aspects of the case—the brutal murder and disfigurement of the embarrassed couple—were superficial compared with the unspeakable facts behind them. 'Medically mysterious,' he was quoted as saying." She twinkled at him. "How's that sound?" She looked at her watch. "And I can make the early editions, too, with a head. Something like DOC SHOCKED SPEECHLESS—and a subhead: Lab Sleuth Suppresses Medical Details of Double Park Killing. Yeah, and your picture.""If you dare to print anything of the sort," he raged, "I'll—""All right, all right," she said conciliatingly. "I won't. I really won't.""Promise me?""I promise, Muley...if—""Why should I bargain?" he demanded suddenly. "Get out of here."He began to close the door. "And something for the editorial page," she said. "Is a doctor within his rights in suppressing inforÂmation concerning a murderous maniac and his methods?" She closed the door.Muhlenberg bit his lower lip so hard he all but yelped. He ran to the door and snatched it open. "Wait!"Budgie was leaning against the doorpost lighting a cigarette. "I was waiting," she said reasonably."Come in here," he grated. He snatched her arm and whirled her inside, slamming the door."You're a brute," she said rubbing her arm and smiling dazzlingly."The only way to muzzle you is to tell the whole story. Right?""Right. If I get an exclusive when you're ready to break the story.""There's probably a kicker in that, too," he said morosely. He glared at her. Then, "Sit down," he said.She did. "I'm all yours.""Don't change the subject," he said with a ghost of his natural humor. He lit a thoughtful cigarette. "What do you know about this case so far?""Too little," she said. "This couple were having a conversation without words in the park when some muggers jumped them and killed them, a little more gruesomely than usual. But instead of being delivered to the city morgue, they were brought straight to you on the orders of the ambulance intern after one quick look.""How did you know about it?""Well, if you must know, I was in the park. There's a shortcut over by the museum, and I was about a hundred yards down the path when I..."Muhlenberg waited as long as tact demanded, and a little longer. Her face was still, her gaze detached. "Go on.""...when I heard a scream," she said in the precise tone of voice which she had been using. Then she began to cry."Hey," he said. He knelt beside her, put a hand on her shoulder. She shoved it away angrily, and covered her face with a damp towel. When she took it down again she seemed to be laughing. She was doing it so badly that he turned away in very real embarrassment."Sorry," she said in a very shaken whisper. "It...was that kind of a scream. I've never heard anything like it. It did something to me. It had more agony in it than a single sound should be able to have." She closed her eyes."Man or woman?"She shook her head."So," he said matter-of-factly, "what did you do then?""Nothing. Nothing at all, for I don't know how long." She slammed a small fist down on the table. "I'm supposed to be a reporter!" she flared. "And there I stand like a dummy, like a wharf rat in concusÂsion-shock!" She wet her lips. "When I came around I was standing by a rock wall with one hand on it." She showed him. "Broke two perfectly good fingernails, I was holding on so tight. I ran toward where I'd heard the sound. Just trampled brush, nothing else. I heard a crowd milling around on the avenue. I went up there. The meat-wagon was there, Al and that young sawbones Regal—Ruggles—""Regalio.""Yeah, him. They'd just put those two bodies into the ambulance. They were covered with blankets. I asked what was up. Regalio waved a finger and said 'Not for schoolgirls' and gave me a real death-mask grin. He climbed aboard. I grabbed Al and asked him what was what. He said muggers had killed this couple, and it was pretty rugged. Said Regalio had told him to bring them here, even before he made a police report. They were both about as upset as they could get.""I don't wonder," said Muhlenberg."Then I asked if I could ride and they said no and took off. I grabbed a cab when I found one to grab, which was all of fifteen minutes later, and here I am. Here I am," she repeated, "getting a story out of you in the damnedest way yet. You're asking, I'm answerÂing." She got up. "You write the feature, Muley. I'll go on into your icebox and do your work."He caught her arm. "Nah! No you don't! Like the man said—it's not for school-girls.""Anything you have in there can't be worse than my imaginaÂtion!" she snapped."Sorry. It's what you get for barging in on me before I've had a chance to think something through. You see, this wasn't exactly two people.""I know!" she said sarcastically. "Siamese twins."He looked at her distantly. "Yes. 'Taint funny, kiddo."For once she had nothing to say. She put one hand slowly up to her mouth and apparently forgot it, for there it stayed. "That's what's so ugly about this. Those two were...torn apart." He closed his eyes. "I can just see it. I wish I couldn't. Those thugs drifting through the park at night, out for anything they could get. They hear someÂthing...fall right over them...I don't know. Then—""All right, all right," she whispered hoarsely. "I can hear you.""But, damn it," he said angrily, "I've been kicking around this field long enough to know every documented case of such a creaÂture. And I just can't believe that one like this could exist without having been written up in some medical journal somewhere. Even if they were born in Soviet Russia, some translation of a report would've appeared somewhere.""I know Siamese twins are rare. But surely such a birth wouldn't make international headlines!""This one would," he said positively. "For one thing, Siamese twins usually bear more anomalies than just the fact that they are attached. They're frequently fraternal rather than identical twins. More often than not one's born more fully developed than the other. Usually when they're born at all they don't live. But these—""What's so special?"Muhlenberg spread his hands. "They're perfect. They're costally joined by a surprisingly small tissue-organ complex—""Wait, professor, 'Costally'—you mean at the chest?""That's right. And the link is—was—not major. I can't underÂstand why they were never sur...
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