"Now, now, Charlie.
None of that.
You be a good little boy.
I told you it won't hurt."
He tries to scream again, but all that comes out is a muffled choking that makes him want to throw up.
He feels the wetness and the stickiness around his legs, and the odor tells him that his mother will punish him with the spanking and the corner for making in his pants.
He could not control it.
Whenever he feels trapped and panic sets in, he loses control and dirties himself.
Choking…sick… nausea… and everything goes black…
There is no way of knowing how much time passes, but when Charlie opens his eyes, the cloth is out of his mouth, and the straps have been removed.
Dr. Guarino pretends he does not smell the odor.
"Now that didn't hurt you a bit, did it?"
"N-no…"
"Well, then what are you trembling like that for?
All I did was use that machine to make you smarter.
How does it feel to be smarter now than you were before?"
Forgetting his terror, Charlie stares wide-eyed at the machine.
"Did I get smart?"
"Of course you did.
Uh, stand back over there.
How does it feel?"
"Feels wet.
I made."
"Yes, well—uh—you won't do that next time, will you?
You won't be scared any more, now that you know it doesn't hurt.
Now I want you to tell your mom how smart you feel, and she'll bring you here twice a week for shortwave encephalo-reconditioning, and you'll get smarter, and smarter, and smarter."
Charlie smiles.
"I can walk backwards."
"You can?
Let's see," says Guarino closing his folder in mock excitement. "Let me see."
Slowly, and with great effort, Charlie takes several steps backward, stumbling against the examination table as he goes.
Guarino smiles and nods.
"Now that's what I call something.
Oh, you wait.
You're going to be the smartest boy on your block before we're through with you."
Charlie flushes with pleasure at this praise and attention.
It is not often that people smile at him and tell him he has done something well.
Even the terror of the machine, and of being strapped down to the table, begins to fade.
"On the whole block?"
The thought fills him as if he cannot take enough air into his lungs no matter how he tries.
"Even smarter than Hymie?"
Guarino smiles again and nods.
"Smarter than Hymie."
Charlie looks at the machine with new wonder and respect. The machine will make him smarter than Hymie who lives two doors away and knows how to read and write and is in the Boy Scouts.
"Is that your machine?"
"Not yet.
It belongs to the bank. But soon it'll be mine, and then I'll be able to make lots of boys like you smart."
He pats Charlie's head and says, "You're a lot nicer than some of the normal kids whose mothers bring them here hoping I can make geniuses out of them by raising their I.Q.'s." "Do they be jean-asses if you raise their eyes?" He put his hands to his face to see if the machine had done anything to raise his eyes. "You gonna make me a jean-ass?" Guarino's laugh is friendly as he squeezes Charlie's shoulder. "No, Charlie. Nothing for you to worry about. Only nasty little donkeys become jean-asses.
You'll stay just the way you are—a nice kid." And then, thinking better of it he adds: "Of course, a little smarter than you are now."
He unlocks the door and leads Charlie out to his parents.