"Yes, Dr. Howard."
While he waited for the security chief to get there, he read through the sheet. It was much like the others that had to the DRC, and the copies that had gone to televietlets and papers all across the Federated Commonwealth. Whoever had Matt knew how to keep reminding the country about it.
Some of the phrases were ones he had seen before “no longer a victim of experimentation,"
"freed from certain death in the laboratory." Howard's lips quirked sourly. That last was an out-and-out lie. He knew it, and he expected that the people who had stolen knew it too. He hoped they did.
The intercom buzzed. Coleman came in without waiting to go through the formalities; he and Howard had been seeing a lot of each other lately.
Coleman was in his forties with red hair going white at the temples.
His movments were quick and jerky, as if he had abundant energy seeking some kind, any kind, of outlet.
He fairly snatched the picture and sheet out of Howard's hands then made a grab for the envelope still sitting on the is desk. "Posted in Philadelphia," he noted, adding Iater, "Different printer from the one for the text.
“Probably came to somebody who sent it on to us. Makes it hard to trace."
“Impossible' would seem a better word," Howard said he hoped to get a rise out of the security officer, he was disappointed. All Coleman did was nod. "Nothing we do with it," he said gloomily. "I'll pass it on to Terminus greencoats, but no reason to think they'll anymore on it than on any of the others."
"Meanwhile, of course, all the commentators and reFers in the country go right on giving it to us," Howard growled.
"Nothing I can do about that," Coleman said. "Long as these folks care to, they'll feed the newsies whatever they want. "
"Oh, get the hell out of here," the doctor shouted at him. Unruffled, Coleman took the photo, the sheet of paper, the envelope and left. The door closed softly behind him Howard stared down at his hands, ashamed of his an outburst. Matt had been gone more than a month now, .
no one was having any luck tracking him down. No even knew what part of the commonwealth he was in. The FCA’s just too big, had too many people, and sims, to make finding ones who did not want to be found easy.
The doctor was also aware that Coleman had not been quite right.
Howard knew to the hundredth of a cubic millilitre how much HIVI the thieves had stolen. He knew almost the day how long that HIVI would hold off the AIDS in Matt.
He also knew what would happen when the HIVI s gone. For Matt's sake, he hoped the people who had him do too.
The coughing from the next room went on and on and:, Ken Dixon looked at Melody, who was looking at the door. Worry had drawn her mouth down, put two deep lit between her eyes and other, fainter ones on her forehead She looked, he thought, the way she would when she was forty. It was not the kind of thought he usually had. The endless cough, though, left him with mortality on his mind. "The antibiotic isn't helping much," he said.
In fact, it wasn't helping at all. He and Melody both knew that, although she had not yet admitted it out loud.
Then she did, saying, "No," in a low voice.
it's probably not a bacterial pneumonia, then," he said.
Probably 'it's the one caused by protozoans. " Yes," Melody said, as low as before.
"Which means Matt's immune system is going south or he never would have come down with it," Dixon said He wished Melody would make things easier by staying with the chain of logic, but after her two one-word statements she went back to moodily staring at the bedroom. He would have to say it himself, then: "Which means the AIDS virus is loose in him again." Yes," Melody said, whispered, really. As quietly as silk spoken, she began to cry; Dixon did not realize it until he saw tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.
"Oh, Ken," she said, and then sobbed out loud for the first time, "we tried so hard " I know. Oh, how I know." His voice was heavy. He wouId have lightened it, but could not. He was tasting It now, for the first time in his life. The young think answers come easily, as if by right, that the world shapes itself at the bidding of their will. one by one, generation by generation, they learn how smal a part of truth that is, the world shapes them far more than they it. Then Melody said, "What are we going to do?" he knew he had to answer. Knowing hurt worse than staying quiet would have. He said, "We're going to give Matt back to the DRC." “What?" She stared at him.
That's the only place he can get more HIVI, and if he doesn’t get it he won't go on too long. If this round of pemmonia doesn't finish him, the next one will, or some other infection he won't be able to fight off and we can't help him. Come on, Melody, is it so or not ," she said grimly. AIDS was not a quick or easy way to die, too many thousands of deaths had left everyone knowing that. "But they'll only go on using him as a lab specimen
"A live one," Dixon broke in, "at least for a while, and with the HIVI he feels al right, for as long as it’s effective."
"However long that is." Melody was still fighting it!
"Longer than he has with us." She flinched. "The cause…”
"If you think that cause is worth more than what happens to one sim in particular, how are you any different from Dr. Howard?"
"That's a low blow, Ken." But she did not give him a direct reply. For some time, she did not give him anything at al . she finally said, "Let's see what Matt has to say about it. If he wants to go back, oh, shit." It was not I concession, but Dixon knew it was as much as he would get. They went to the closed door. Melody, usually impetuous, stayed behind Dixon, as if to say this was not her place. He opened the door. They both frowned at the sickroom smel that met them.
Matt lay on his back on the bed. He lifted his head a couple of inches when they came in, then let it fal back the pil ow, as though the effort of holding it up was top much For him. For the moment, though, he was breathing well.
He had lost weight, but had no appetite; a bowl of food, almost full, stood untouched on the nightstand. His eyes ' were the only live things in his thin face. He looked, Dab thought, like a camp survivor from the Russo-Prussian War. Dixon knew the comparison was a cliche. Nontheless, it fit all too well. Once inside the bedroom, Melody took the lead; Dixon’s idea might have been her own, once she was with Matt
"You've stopped coughing," she said quietly. "Are you feeling any better?" so Tired, the sim signed. So tired. His arms flopped down. On the mattress as soon as he was done using them. Then one of them came up again. Medicine? he signed Medicine that helps?
"I'm sorry, Matt. We have none, and don't know where to get any.” Melody said. Dixon winced at Matts shrug of resignation. Melody went on, "They do have that kind of medicine at the towers, Matt, if you want to go back." she held her voice steady.
home? Matt signed, which only made Dixon feel worse, he had not thought he could. The sims somber face brightened. Medicine back home?
He tried to sit up, eventual y succeeded, though it set off another spasm of coughing, this one fortunately brief. Females too, yes? he I with a sidelong look at Dixon and Melody. Tired of hand. That set Melody laughing so hard she had trouble stoping. Finally, at Dixon's quizzical look, she explained, read in my great-great-grandfather's diary that the only reason he ever came home from a trapping run was that he got tiered of his hand."
" Dixon laughed too, a little, before turning serious Pin, "Matt seems to have made his choice." That brought her up short; after a moment, she gave a reluctant nod. Then went on, "Now we have to figure out how to give him back without giving ourselves away to the greencoats...."
The intercom buzzed. "Yes, Doris?" Dr. Howard said.
“It’s for you, sir," his secretary said. "Won't give a name, won't speak to anyone but you. He says it's about Matt” ”Put him on," Howard said wearily. He'd had enough crank cal s since Matt was taken to last him a lifetime, but there was always the off chance.... He picked up the phone. "Yes?
This is Dr. Peter Howard. Go ahead."
The man on th
e other end of the line sounded young and cautious, but what he said made Howard sit straighter in his chair “ How do I know your not a fake”
"If I were a fake, would I have any way of knowing last three pamphlets you got were red, green, and White order?"
The doctor said, exitment rising in his voice. "I don't believe you would.
This is about Matt, you say? Where is he is he well? Is he alive?"
The stolen HIVI should have been used up some time ago. After it was gone, anything might have happened.
"No, he's not very well, but he is alive," the caller "As a matter of fact, he's sitting on a bench on the corner Peachtree and Sherman, waiting for somebody to come pick him up. We're giving him back to you." If that was true, Relief left Howard limp. "Thank you," he whispered.
"You're anything but welcome," the young man bitterly. "You made him sick, but you're the only one who can slow down the AIDS in him now, so we don't have any choice but to give him back. I wish we did."
"People will be better because of what we've done to him," Howard said.
"Wil Matt. He didn't get a choice."
"You had him some little while yourself. Did you let him make all his own choices?" The silence at the other end of the connection answered that for Howard. "You can't with a sim, can you?" the doctor said. "Believe me, I know that."'
"Go to hell," the young man said. "I'm breaking this call off now. You're probably tracking this call." The connecting went blank.
"Thank you for giving him back, anyhow," Howard to the dead line.
Then he gathered himself and rang Coleman. He was not surprised to find that the so chief had already given orders for picking up Matt, going after the caller.
Howard found himself hoping the young man got away. That did surprise him.
"It's no good, Ken," Melody said. They were sitting Slide side at the edge of the hotel bed, but he had know before she spoke that they would not be making love tonight. The way she'd sat stiffly, not looking at him, in the passenger seat of the horseless as he drove away from the DRC had been plenty to tell him that. Now she went on "After today, in fact, we'd probably be better travel separately."
“Why?" he said. Down deep he knew why, though admitting it to himself by continuing, "You agreed we had to take Matt back."
I know I did. It was the only thing we could do, and I did. I don't see how I'l ever do anything but hate it, and being with you just keeps reminding me of it. Sorry."
“The rewards of being right," he said.
it earned him a glare. "Call it whatever you like. But stay together, and I think I'll end up hating you too. I'd rather break clean now."
'However you like," he said tonelessly. He suspected she would end up hating him anyway, convincing herself that everything that had gone wrong was his fault. It was too late for him to do anything about that.
He and Melody slept with their backs to each other. The space of mattress between them might as well have I chasm.
The IV that slowly dripped into Matt's arm after a while gave him a familiar pain. He slept again on a familiar bed in a familiar room.
His breakfast came on a familiar tray at a familiar time. After so much strangeness, all that was reassuring.
aside from the temporary nuisance of the IV, he felt better. The towers had the medicines to cure the sicknesses he had come down with on his travels, and the special medicine to help keep him from falling sick so easily again.
He had females once more, when he felt well enough for them That was good, after doing so long without. When couplings were done, they would ask him in sign-talk about his adventures on the outside. He answered as best he could. They were curious, and it helped pass the time.
in horseless, like on television, he would sign, and to himself. That never failed to draw awed murmurs of excited "Hoo"s from whatever female he was with. better than here. Here everything the same al the time, l torn ' He shrugged and yawned, baring his large yellow teeth.
After while, going in homeless same al the time too, he answered, full of the ennui of the experienced traveler. Is One afternoon, the female cal ed Jane asked, why take you from here?
People want to help make sims free, he signed People want to make me free.
"Hoo," Jane said softly. You go outside tower, you free Matt thought that over. No matter how often Ken and Melody had used the word, he stil could not quite get what they meant by it. Not sure, he signed. Then, slowly shook his head. No, not free. People outside like people here.
Say they let sims do what sims want, but real y only let us do what sims want when they want that too. "Ah," Jane said, and nodded. She understood that perfectly. After a while, they coupled again. Then a nurse came to take Matt away. More needles? he signed. The nurse nodded. He sighed and went with her.
The afternoon moved on to twilight.
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A Different Flesh Page 29
