Elevation(3)

Scott took off his parka and hung it on the back of a chair. Then, balancing with first one hand and then the other on Doctor Bob’s desk, he took off his boots. Next came the flannel shirt. He unbuckled his belt, stepped out of his jeans, and stood there in his boxers, tee-shirt, and socks.

“I could shuck these as well,” he said, “but I think I’ve taken off enough to make the point. Because, see, this is what scared me. The thing about the clothes. It’s why I wanted to talk to a friend who could keep his mouth shut instead of my regular doc.” He pointed to the clothes and boots on the floor, then at the parka with its sagging pockets. “How much would you say all that stuff weighs?”

“With the coins? At least fourteen pounds. Possibly as much as eighteen. Do you want to weigh them?”

“No,” Scott said.

He got back on the scale. There was no need to move the weights. The beam balanced at 212 pounds.

*

Scott dressed and they went back to the living room. Doctor Bob poured them each a tiny knock of Woodford Reserve, and although it was only ten in the morning, Scott did not refuse. He took his down in a single swallow, and the whiskey lit a comforting fire in his stomach. Ellis took two delicate birdy sips, as if testing the quality, then tossed off the rest. “It’s impossible, you know,” he said as he put the empty glass on an endtable.

Scott nodded. “Another reason I didn’t want to talk to Dr. Adams.”

“Because it would be in the system,” Ellis said. “A matter of record. And yes, he’d have insisted you undergo tests in order to find out exactly what’s going on with you.”

Although he didn’t say so, Scott thought insisted was too mild. In Dr. Adams’s consulting room, the phrase that had popped into his head was taken into custody. That was when he’d decided to keep his mouth shut and talk to his retired medical friend instead.

“You look 240,” Ellis said. “Is that how you feel?”

“Not exactly. I felt a little . . . mmm . . . ploddy when I actually did weigh 240. I guess that’s not a real word, but it’s the best I can do.”

“I think it’s a good word,” Ellis said, “whether it’s in the dictionary or not.”

“It wasn’t just being overweight, although I knew I was. It was that, and age, and . . .”

“The divorce?” Ellis asked it gently, in his most Doctor Bobly way.

Scott sighed. “Sure, that too. It’s cast a shadow over my life. It’s better now, I’m better, but it’s still there. Can’t lie about that. Physically, though, I never felt bad, still worked out a little three times a week, never got out of breath until the third set, but just . . . you know, ploddy. Now I don’t, or at least not so much.”

“More energy.”

Scott considered, then shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s more like the energy I have goes further.”

“No lethargy? No fatigue?”

“No.”

“No loss of appetite?”

“I eat like a horse.”

“One more question, and you’ll pardon me, but I have to ask.”

“Ask away. Anything.”

“There’s no way this is a practical joke, right? Pulling the leg of the old retired sawbones?”

“Absolutely not,” Scott said. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you’ve ever seen a similar case, but have you ever read about one?”

Ellis shook his head. “Like you, it’s the clothes that I keep coming back to. And the quarters in your coat pockets.”

Join the club, Scott thought.

“No one weighs the same naked as they do dressed. It’s as much a given as gravity.”

“Are there medical websites you can go on to see if there are any other cases like mine? Even ones that are sort of similar?”

“I can and will, but I can tell you now there won’t be.” Ellis hesitated. “This isn’t just outside my experience, I’d say it’s outside human experience. Hell, I want to say it’s impossible. If, that is, your scale and mine weigh true, and I have no reason to believe otherwise. What happened to you, Scott? What was the genesis? Did you . . . I don’t know, get irradiated by something? Maybe get a lungful of some off-brand bug-spray? Think.”

“I have thought. So far as I can tell, there’s nothing. But one thing’s for sure, I feel better having talked to you. Not just sitting on it.” Scott stood up and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I’ve got those websites to work on. It’s a big deal. Although I have to tell you, it doesn’t seem quite as big as it did.”

Ellis walked with him to the door. “You say you’ve noted a steady weight-loss. Slow but steady.”

“That’s right. A pound or so a day.”

“No matter how much you eat.”

“Yes,” Scott said. “And what if it continues?”

“It won’t.”

“How can you be sure? If it’s outside of human experience?”

To this Doctor Bob had no answer.

“Keep your mouth shut about this, Bob. Please.”

“I will if you promise to keep me informed. I’m concerned.”