'How you doing, Dixie?'
'I'm dead, Case. Got enough time in on this Hosaka to
figure that one.'
'How's it feel?'
'What bothers me is, nothin' does.'
'Had me this buddy in the Russian camp, Siberia, his thumb
was frostbit. Medics came by and they cut it off. Month later
he's tossin' all night. Elroy, I said, what's eatin' you? Goddam
thumb's itchin', he says. So I told him, scratch it. McCoy, he
says, it's the other goddam thumb.' When the construct laughed,
it came through as something else, not laughter, but a stab of
cold down Case's spine. 'Do me a favor, boy.'
'What's that, Dix?'
'This scam of yours, when it's over, you erase this goddam