Mindtouch (The Dreamhealers 1)

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  “Pardon?” Vasiht’h said, looking up from his own data tablet.

  “The engineered races,” Jahir said. “It beggars the imagination that you were all made from common stock, and yet you’re often so utterly different.”

  “Not so different as all that,” Vasiht’h said. “Most of the Pelted can interbreed.”

  Jahir shook his head, the minute motion of his own kind, a twitch of the chin. “Not that way. I meant… in the mind. Even in body chemistry.”

  “Ahhhh,” Vasiht’h said, and mantled the wings on his lower back. “Well, there you get into the issue of culture. How culture influences the mind, and the chemical constituents of it.”

  “Or vice versa?” Jahir said. “The body influencing the culture, creating the mind?”

  “That too,” Vasiht’h said. “That’s one of the things I like about psychology, actually. It’s not this or that. It’s… a loop. Everything affects everything else. You can point at something and call it a cause, but it’s really a matter of perspective. Change where you’re standing and it looks like an effect.”

  “And yet you must begin somewhere, if you wish to affect change,” Jahir said.

  Vasiht’h grinned. “Affecting change is for third year students. First year students have to settle for observing effects.”

  Jahir laughed, quiet. “And second year students?”

  “All the worst parts of being a first year, and none of the good parts of being a third,” Vasiht’h said. “You’ll find it positively frustrating when you get here yourself.”

  “And if I am to do so…” Jahir trailed off and resumed reading. He could sense his roommate’s gaze lingering for a moment, and then Vasiht’h returned to his own studies.

  “So Professor Palland took a stripe out of you,” Sehvi said from her room several sectors away.

  “Not just him, but Dami too,” Vasiht’h said ruefully. “She’s convinced I’m not taking my education seriously.”

  Sehvi wrinkled her nose. “You do not want her having that idea. Ever.”

  “I know!” Vasiht’h said. “I know. And I’m applying myself now, I really am. Palland wrote my schedule for me this semester. I’m being good.”

  Sehvi leaned forward, peering at him. “And hating it, I see.” At his expression, she said, “I can tell when you’ve been making too many cookies, it makes your hands twitchy. It’s the sugar.”

  Vasiht’h sighed. “I haven’t been eating them. Baking just calms me down.”

  “You’re worse than a pregnant woman, ariihir,” she said, amused. “With all the cravings. Someone should keep an eye on that for you. What about that roommate of yours? Is that working out well?”

  “Strangely… yes,” Vasiht’h said. “He’s a quiet type, but he likes to study out in the suite, not in his room.”

  “Ohhhh,” Sehvi said. “You like that, at least.”

  “Yes. It’s not as noisy as home, but it’s better than having no company. And we’ve sort of talked our way into helping out at the children’s hospital.”

  His sister frowned. “How’s that even possible? You’re not qualified. They don’t let so much as a therapy animal into places like that without certification. At least, they don’t here.”

  “I don’t know?” Vasiht’h admitted. “The computer didn’t flag us, I guess. Besides, Jahir just… made it sound like we belonged there, and they believed him.”

  “Oh, did they,” she said, brows lifting.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Vasiht’h said. “But you have to live with an Eldritch to see it. They’re very convincing. They have a lordly manner.” He thought of Jahir frowning at the cookie dough spoon and grinned. “Even when doing mundane things. It’s fun to watch.”

  Sehvi studied him, then said, “Maybe you should spend more time introducing him to mundane things, then. It seems to help.”

  “Help him? He needs it,” Vasiht’h said. “I’m not sure he’d seen a shower before he came here.”

  “Not help him,” Sehvi said, rolling her eyes. “Help you. And it would be a lot cheaper than buying expensive chocolate and nuts all the time. Especially if you don’t end up eating any of the stuff you bake.”

  “Hard to argue that,” Vasiht’h said. “I wonder if he’s ever had ice cream?”

  “Less food,” Sehvi said. “More culture. Or social stuff. You’re good at that. See if he wants to go along?”

  “I don’t think he likes crowds,” Vasiht’h said, thinking out loud. “So… I’ll start small.”

  She grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, ask me about me, so I can tell you all about my woes this semester. It’s all the messy stuff that we’re not supposed to be dealing with.”

  “Like?”

  “Like gynecology and obstetrics,” Sehvi said, grimacing. “I’m going into reproductive genetics so I can stay out of delivery rooms!”

  “Poor little sister,” Vasiht’h, and then laughed ruefully. “Poor us. Not quite where we want to be.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet,” he allowed.

  “So, this is a common occurrence?” Jahir asked, following Vasiht’h out the apartment’s back door.

  “It’s why all of the buildings face inward like this,” Vasiht’h agreed. “So in good weather, or bad, even, we can all talk with the neighbors.” They were heading for a little octagonal building Jahir had taken for some sort of gazebo, but it was entirely enclosed with glass windows and metal fretwork, decorative and weathered. The interior was as small as it looked, a single room with a shared high table and kitchenette. “Looks like we’re the first ones here.”

  “But not by much,” Luci said from behind them. “Brett and I are right behind you.” She set a basket on the table and bent down to hug Vasiht’h. “Thanks for starting these up again. It’s nice to get a break.”

  “You’re welcome,” Vasiht’h said. “Jahir, you remember Lucrezia? And this is her roommate, Brett, also a healer student.”

  Brett was another of the ubiquitous Seersa, a silver-coated male with curious green eyes. He was carrying a bottle of wine under one arm. “Well met, quadmates. So you’re the new guy?” He looked up at Jahir. “Tall, aren’t you?”

  “I… yes,” Jahir said, amused. “Yes, I appear to be.”

  Brett grinned. “After a few glasses of this, neither of us will be sure about it, I promise.”

  “Is anyone else coming?” Luci asked, pulling a stool up to the center table and starting to unpack her basket.

  “Just Merashiinal,” Vasiht’h said.

  Luci laughed. “That’s enough for our first night back, definitely.”

  “What’s enough?” asked a voice from the door.

  “There, see,” Brett said. “Someone taller than you.”

  Jahir looked toward the door in time to see an entirely unlikely figure duck through it. Another centauroid, but unlike Vasiht’h, this one was over a head taller than Jahir himself, who was often a head taller than the tallest humans. This creature had the tail and lower body of a long-legged and powerful cat, the torso of a man and a foxish face, complete with delicately pointed muzzle… all covered with a tawny pelt dappled with ragged spots and stripes.

  “And here is Brett with wine,” this new addition said. “But did he bring enough to intoxicate me?”

  “Not even,” Brett said with a laugh. “Come drape yourself over here, Mera, and meet the new neighbor.”

  “What is this?” Merashiinal said, leaning forward to study Jahir. “I have not seen your like before.”

  “I assure you, the sentiment is mutual,” Jahir said, bending back a little. “You are—”

  “Merashiinal,” the creature said, grinning with a gaped mouth. “One of the Ciracaana. The civilized part of the planet, so have no fears. I will not invite you to tribal rituals involving the painting of your snowy hide.”

  “That’s an Eldritch, Mera,” Luci said, setting out the food. “Don’t touch him, he’s a contact esper.”

  “Ah!” Mera s
aid. “Much sorry I am if I breathed too much on you.”

  “Fortunately I can divine very little of you from being breathed on,” Jahir said.

  “Oh?” Vasiht’h asked. “You can pick out anything at all? Like what?”

  “That he’s been chewing on parsley,” Jahir said.

  Merashiinal laughed. “Yes! For good breath.” He tapped a fang. “I am the polite barbarian. And also, a hungry one.” He dropped onto his haunches and wrapped a long tail over his feet. “So tell me what we are feasting on, and then someone can start with the complaining.”

  When Vasiht’h had insisted on bringing him to this gathering, Jahir hadn’t been sure what to expect, or that he’d enjoy it. Even at home, he’d preferred to distance himself from intimate gatherings. That he had to spend so much time at his studies only exacerbated his instinct for solitude now that he was on Seersana. But he’d thought it would be unnecessarily cruel to reject his roommate’s offer, so he’d helped bake the ubiquitous cookies. And surprisingly, he found himself enjoying the evening. Luci had brought a plate of raw vegetables and fruits with slices of thin, sharp cheese, and though he abstained from Brett’s wine, the Ciracaana had brought a dark, robust tea. He’d also brought candles, delightfully: Jahir had not expected the Alliance to have anything so anachronistic, and it had reminded him of home.

  They spoke of their studies, their teachers, their problems. Merashiinal was a student of natural and environmental sciences, a study he hoped to bring back to Ciracaa and apply to the preservation of his own world, still mostly unsettled. Brett and Luci, both in the healing program, were full of absurd and gruesome stories about their latest anatomy class, which Jahir tried not to find quite so fascinating. They lingered over the tea until almost midnight, in fact, until at last Brett took his leave, and then the Ciracaana. Luci began packing her basket as Jahir swept the floor and Vasiht’h collected plates.

  “So,” Vasiht’h said. “Not sleeping much?”

  She eyed him. “That obvious?”

  “I’ve known you two years,” Vasiht’h said as Jahir listened with interest. “So is it for a good reason or…”

  She made a face, lips pulling back from her teeth, which were pointed. “I’m just tired, Vasiht’h. You know? I do a lot of swimming against the tide.”

  “I do know,” Vasiht’h said. “Want to talk about it?”

  She snorted, closing the basket. “You trying to use your degree on me without a license?”

  “Less that than maybe a friend wanting to help,” Vasiht’h said. “You know if you need to talk, we’re right across from you.”

  Luci glanced at him, then across the room, meeting Jahir’s eyes. “I know. And thanks.” She smiled. “One week, up and down.”

  “One week,” Vasiht’h agreed, and she left.

  “Some problem there?” Jahir asked.

  “Eh, I don’t know,” Vasiht’h said. “She keeps things close, which is strange in itself. Harat-Shar don’t tend to. She’s from one of the colonies, though, sometimes the societies are very different.” He glanced at Jahir and smiled. “Like what we were talking about, ah?”

  “Biology and culture,” Jahir agreed, setting the broom aside. “It is late.”

  “It is,” Vasiht’h said, taking his plate.

  “But I am glad we did this,” Jahir finished, opening the door for the Glaseah.

  Vasiht’h glanced up at him, then smiled and walked under his arm. Jahir followed.

  “First, tell me how the regimen’s going. Any odd side effects?” KindlesFlame said over their table at the restaurant on the top floor of the medical student center.

  “None that I can discern,” Jahir said. “A touch of fatigue, perhaps. And nausea.”

  “The nausea’s hunger,” KindlesFlame said. “You need to eat more. We’ll start now, ah? Order something.” As they looked over the menu, he added, “So how are you liking it?”

  “School?” Jahir said. “I find it stimulating.”

  “Yes… it is that,” KindlesFlame said, satisfied. He tapped his fingers on the table, pursed his lips. “First year, xenopsychology… all neuroscience, isn’t it?”

  “Very much so,” Jahir said, and something in his expression must have divulged more than he’d intended, for the Tam-illee laughed.

  “More work than you’d been anticipating?”

  “I like the science,” Jahir said. “I am simply… nonplussed… at how inadequate my education in biology and chemistry was up to this point.”

  “Don’t let it distress you,” the Tam-illee said. “You aren’t the first student to go into the postgraduate psychology program expecting it to be softer on the science. It’s always been a bit of an orphan child, psychology.”

  “How so?” Jahir asked.

  “Traditionally it wasn’t treated as medicine,” KindlesFlame said. “But no one would argue that the practice of psychology doesn’t have medical implications. We folded the program into our healing college because we felt that’s where it belongs, but even we don’t give healer titles to people who graduate with licenses to practice psychology in a clinical setting. When you leave here, you’ll still be Lord Seni Galare.”

  “Not Doctor Seni Galare,” Jahir guessed.

  The other man held up a hand. “Healer, not doctor. Graduates from human-administrated colleges produce doctors of medicine. From Pelted colleges, we get healers. Same with nurses and healers-assist. It’s not a distinction most laymen know, but within the field you’ll get funny looks if you don’t observe it.”

  “Because humanity and the Pelted do things so differently?” Jahir wondered.

  “Because humanity and the Pelted aren’t sure if they share fundamental values, and both have their reasons for formalizing the separation,” KindlesFlame said dryly.

  “Ah!” Jahir said. And quieter, “Ah.”

  Watching him, KindlesFlame said, “You are just where you belong, alet.”

  “Ah?” Jahir said, looking up.

  “You’re wondering at the separation, and the feelings and thoughts that fostered it,” KindlesFlame said with a chuckle. “Already a psychologist, and not yet graduated. You’ll do fine, if you can get through the chemistry.”

  “I like the chemistry,” Jahir said. “It’s the history that I’m having to ride hard to catch. I have not had the benefit of a citizen, to have grown up with the Alliance’s historical context.”

  “Maybe not,” KindlesFlame said, “but you’re in the thick of it now. It won’t take you long if you just keep watching.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Settling into the routine of lectures and studies took so long that a month passed before they could arrange to visit the hospital again.

  “You’re late,” Berquist said when they arrived.

  “I… we’re… we had no idea how much time had passed,” Vasiht’h said, ears flicking back.

  The healer-assist laughed. “I’m just tweaking you. I didn’t expect you to come back, to be honest. Since you have, I’ll finalize those passes for you while you’re in the room with them.”

  “We’d appreciate that,” Jahir said.

  “Go on in,” she said. “They have an hour before napping.”

  The children were clustered at the table, sharing a stack of pages with simple line drawings on them: sea creatures, like the ones painted in the lobby. They were diligently at work coloring these with various wax crayons, markers and stubby brushes. The door opening on their arrival caused a great deal of squealing, and it was disarming to Jahir, how obviously they were anticipated and welcomed.

  “We didn’t get to hear the end of the story!” Amaranth reminded him, earnest in her eagerness.

  “Well, now you shall,” Jahir said, and pulled up one of the small chairs at their table, much to their delight. Vasiht’h sat behind him on his haunches, like an honor guard, and this the girls would not allow when they noticed it… there was nothing for it but to crowd him in around the table too. That put them so close that the girls cou
ldn’t help but brush against Jahir’s sides, and yet he couldn’t warn them off. As they settled Vasiht’h, he closed his eyes and sorted through the clear sunlight and suffering of their minds, so bright to be so sick.

  “So, the prince goes out into the fields,” Kayla said once they had positioned Vasiht’h to their satisfaction.

  “To bless the fields,” Jahir said, taking up the narration again. If the story he told them was a little on the fantastical side, well… they would never know how much of it was embroidery. He even threw in a unicorn sighting, which caused them all to sigh.

  “Are there really unicorns?” Meekie wondered.

  “Why not?” Kuriel said. “They’re probably engineered, like us.”

  Meekie scowled. “I want them to be realer than that.”

  “Being engineered wouldn’t make them less real or less special,” Amaranth, one of the two humans, said. “You’re engineered, Meekie, and you and Kayla and Kuriel and Nieve are my very bestest friends. I wouldn’t like you any better if you were human.”

  “But would it make us more special?” Meekie asked. “If we weren’t engineered, I mean.”

  “Evolving sounds like hard work to me,” Kayla said.

  “The hard way isn’t always the best way,” Nieve offered.

  Nieve, Jahir thought, was the girl with the touch of poesy in her. He glanced at her, saw the fatigue lines beneath her eyes just as she turned them to him. “Isn’t that right?”

  “It is not wise to mistake great effort for productive effort,” Jahir said somberly. “As my companion will tell you himself, having witnessed my poor attempts at studying.”

  “He does work hard,” Vasiht’h said. “I’m not too sure about well, though.”

  The Glaseah’s timing on the comment had been perfect… they had all the girls giggling.

  “I can’t imagine you not being wonderful at everything!” Amaranth said. “Is studying really so hard?”

  “We study,” Persy offered. “School things. They give us material to work on when we’re feeling okay.”