h a solution to this, a timer-equipped pillcase
that reset when you took the lid off and chimed if you took the lid off again
before the set interval had elapsed. He reached for his comm to make some notes,
found it wedged under one of his hocks, greasy with sweat, batteries dead. He
hadn't let his comm run down in a decade, at least.

His landlady let Linda in on the fourth day, as he was sleeping fitfully with a
pillow over his face to shut out the light from the window. He'd tried to draw
the curtains a day -- two days? -- before, but had given up when he tried to
pull himself upright on the sill only to collapse in a fresh gout of writhing.
Linda crouched by his head and stroked his greasy hair softly until he flipped
the pillow off his face with a movement of his neck. He squinted up at her,
impossibly fresh and put together and incongruous in his world of reduced
circumstances.

"Art. Art. Art. Art! You're a mess, Art! Jesus. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Too far," he mumbled.

"What would your grandmother say? Dear-oh-dearie. Come on, let's get you up and
into bed, and then I'm going to have a doctor and a massage therapist sent in.
You need a nice, hot bath, too. It'll be good for you and hygienic besides."

"No tub," he said petulantly.

"I know, I know. Don't worry about it. I'll sort it out."

And she did, easing him to his feet and helping him into bed. She took his house
keys and disappeared for some unknowable time, then reappeared with fresh linen
in store wrappers, which she lay on the bed carefully, making tight hospital
corners and rolling him over, nurse-style, to do the other side. He heard her
clattering in the kitchen, running the faucets, moving furniture. He reminded
himself to ask her to drop his comm in its charger, then forgot.

"Come on, time to get up again," she said, gently peeling the sheets back.

"It's OK," he said, waving weakly at her.

"Yes, it is. Let's get up." She took his ankles and gradually turned him on the
bed so that his feet were on the floor, then grabbed him by his stinking armpits
and helped him to his feet. He stumbled with her into his crowded living room,
dimly aware of the furniture stacked on itself around him. She left him hanging
on the door lintel and then began removing his clothes. She actually used a
scissors to cut away his stained tee shirt and boxer shorts. "All right," she
said, "into the tub."

"No tub," he said.

"Look down, Art," she said.

He