The receptionist ushered the patient into Dr. Walter Needzak's office. She punched her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose, patted the bun of hair at the back of her head, and said: "This is Mr. Stallings, doctor."
Dr. Needzak motioned the patient to a chair. Stallings sat down, slowly but limberly. He still held his hat, and placed it in the precise center of his lap. The receptionist handed a form to Dr. Needzak and returned to the waiting room, after looking once over her shoulder.
"You're only 125, Mr. Stallings?" Dr. Needzak asked. The patient nodded sadly. "Well, you should be hale and hearty for another 50 years, judging by the report on your preliminary exam. Are you sure that it's any use for you to consult me?"
"I wouldn't bother you," Stallings said, age showing only in the high pitch of his voice, "except for the funny feeling in my chest the other day. I had to visit an office on the twelfth story. The elevator wasn't running, so I walked up. Just as an experiment, I went as fast as I could. The way my chest felt got me so interested and excited that I forgot what I wanted at the office, once I was there. So I thought that that was a hopeful enough sign for me to come around and see you."
Dr. Needzak, a young man at 50 and who looked even younger, hoisted the stethoscope amplifier onto his desk, turned it on, and signalled for Stallings to unbutton his shirt. He placed the stethoscope against the bony chest. The bumping of the heart filled the room, drew a wild pattern on the unfolding strip of paper in the visual section of the amplifier, and created magnetic patterns on the tape.
Dr. Needzak listened for two minutes, then thumbed through a reference listing of visual heart patterns. Finally he switched off the amplifier, and said:
"You have no history of heart trouble."
"I'm afraid not."
"Well, I don't want to raise false hopes. The only thing that I can suggest is more physical exertion. Really vigorous exertion, the kind that makes you pant and tremble and get a bit dizzy. Try that every day for a month and come back to see me. There's just a trace of a flutter now, and we might be able to speed up its development."
The old man smiled for the first time, at something that his eyes saw behind the white plaster of the far wall. Finally, Stallings rose to leave. Buttoning himself up, he said: "You'll send the bill?"
Dr. Needzak laughed genially. "I can see that you aren't accustomed to visiting doctors, young man. The better the doctor, the more risky it is to send the bill. My policy is to request full payment before the patient leaves the office, just in case I've given the right sort of advice. In cases where I prescribe medicine, of course, you may pay for the prescription and the consultation fee simultaneously. Before taking the medicine, you understand." Again he laughed.
"I understand. I should have guessed. I work in a bank myself. I hate the work. I'm tired of everything, in fact. But I know how important it is to pay promptly."
The doctor had just filed away Stallings' physical record when the receptionist ushered in an extremely elderly woman. Dr. Needzak smiled broadly, and said:
"Mrs. Watkins! I didn't expect to see you again so soon." He waved in annoyance at the receptionist, who hovered behind the new patient. She left, reluctantly.
Mrs. Watkins groped her way to the chair, wincing when the receptionist slammed the door. The old woman rubbed her bony forehead with a mottled hand that trembled and said:
"I know that I wasn't supposed to come back for another three months. But did you realize that I'll have my 190th birthday before those three months are up? When a person gets to be that old, she looks forward to seeing the doctor more than she used to look forward for Santa to arrive back in the old days."
"No symptoms since your last visit?" Dr. Needzak spoke more loudly than usual in deference to her failing hearing, and turned up the light to aid weak, old eyes.
"None." She spat out the word. "I'm going to change doctors, if this keeps up. I've heard of a couple of doctors who aren't as scrupulous as you are. After living all this time, I think that I could be permitted one little crime, lying to them about a symptom. Then I know that I'd be made happy. What's the use being moral when you're too frail and tottery to enjoy life?"
Dr. Needzak shook his head, disapprovingly. "I don't think you're quite as miserable as you think you are. Don't go to those quack doctors. Suppose you're caught, halfway through a crime? You might linger for decades, half-well, half-sick, from the effects of what they'd give you. Even the quacks won't supply you with strychnine, you know."
"I know. I shouldn't have suggested it. But I get so tired of living."
"Well, I can't see any physical trouble that cou............