The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Five

by Randall Farmer

  The first Focuses tried to present the illusion that they had stepped away from politics, but it was just an illusion. Tonya didn’t believe the illusion, not since she joined the Council five years ago and got a lesson in how the world worked. Currently only one first Focus sat on the Council, a junior one with little of the hard-edged abrasiveness the other original hard cases showed. The reality was something entirely different.

  Tonya herself was on the Council as the Representative for the Northeast. Elected, yes, but the elections among the Focuses were shams. The real selection had been her nomination, by Suzie Schrum, the President of the Northeast Region. Suzie was Tonya’s boss, a first Focus herself, and a nasty one. After the election, the firsts had initiated Tonya, an event Tonya tried to shut out of her memories.

  First Focuses also ran the Western and the Southern Regions, their Council representatives under their thumbs as well.

  The Midwest wasn’t run by a first Focus, but the President of the Midwest region was a figurehead for Wini Adkins, another first, and the Midwest Council rep, Esther, was little more than Wini’s sock puppet. Lastly, one of the three at-large seats was held by Cathy Elspeth, a first Focus.

  The situation appeared so innocuous. The first Focuses held only one Council seat, and everyone thought this was reasonable, given all the first Focuses had done.

  However, of the seven Council seats, the first Focuses controlled five. A solid majority, plus some, any time they wanted to exercise their power.

  Tonya made damned sure she kept the first Focuses happy. When there’s only one game in town, that’s the game you played.

  The first Focuses approved of her. She had caught on fast.

  Esther brought word when she arrived that Jill was having some sort of family crisis and expected to be a few minutes late. Ginny Mansfield made it in at five minutes to 10:00. Ginny was the resident straight arrow. She never generated a hint of impropriety and her household never did anything the least legally dubious. Tonya wondered how she managed. Ginny never thought about illegal tricks and always seemed so surprised at any hints that some of the other Focuses might have taken another path.

  “Ginny! You look terrible!” Polly said, to Ginny. Polly honestly cared for people, doing her best to sand down the rough edges in the Council and generate at least the illusion that everyone was friends. “Come over here and tell me about it.”

  Ginny was an at-large rep, elected for her basic decency and her impeccable reputation. To Tonya’s eye, she did look terrible. Her clothes were neat and clean and her dark blonde hair was perfectly styled, but her eyes held a hollow look. She looked gaunt. She gave a ragged smile back at Polly.

  “I’d rather not talk about it. I’m sorry for holding everyone up. Can we begin?”

  Polly frowned, but she said, “All right then. Let’s get started.” And off they went.

  The agenda was a depressing one. It always was.

  First, they talked about money. Always money, as they tried yet again to come up with a way, any way, to alleviate the terrible grinding poverty of Transform life. So many people in those households, and many of them highly skilled with valuable professions. However, no one openly hired Transforms. Many households lived hand to mouth. Every time a household started to make progress, they spent all their savings to move again, an endless trap with no escape.

  The Council came up with patch measures. More ways to identify those under-utilized professionals so that at least their services would be available to the other households. Helping households start small businesses of their own. On a shoestring, because of course there was no money for seed capital, and of course no one would lend to a Transform.

  Once past the most important issue of money came the reports of the attacks. Since late last summer there had been a large number of successful attacks on household Transforms, twenty seven overall at last count. Dealing with the attacks was Tonya’s baby and she had her theory on the subject. Most already knew her theory, but she presented it anyway, in case anyone had missed it.

  “I fear we have a rogue Arm. On September 7th of last year, Carol Hancock, the second surviving Arm in the United States, finished her apprenticeship with the first Arm.” Tonya didn’t mention the name of the first Arm. Even mentioning Stacy Keaton’s name, the person responsible for the terms serial killer and spree killer, could chill a room of Focuses down to absolute zero. “Hancock had been in contact with us through a Network doctor before her escape from apprenticeship, but after winning her freedom she cut off all direct contact. The attacks on tagged Transforms increased to their current rate of about one a week after she left her apprenticeship. As you know, the attacks continue. The timing of the increase of the attacks is highly suspicious.”

  Tonya had other things to say on the subject, about a battle between Keaton and two Chimeras, but her comments would have to wait until tomorrow. Her biggest fear was that the Council was going to blow off the information on the male Major Transforms yet again. They would write off the attackers as standard Monsters. Again.

  Tonya had been working on the issue of the Transform killings and kidnappings for nearly five months, looking for evidence to link the attacks to Hancock or anyone else, and she had gotten nowhere. Oh, she had collected reams of data, but she hadn’t found a single bit of incriminating information. Instead, what she got were red herrings, such as the three cases where terrifying ‘animal roars’ had been heard by nearby ‘witnesses’ to the killings or kidnappings.

  Polly leaned on Tonya and the others with government connections to ‘step up their lobbying for more work on the Arm capture effort’. Tonya didn’t suspect Keaton, at least not too often. Keaton had fled to California after a brace of Male Major Transforms – Chimeras – forced her out of Philadelphia. Keaton’s new Network contact was Lupe Rodriguez. Although Rodriguez wouldn’t talk about the exact details of her new relationship with Keaton, it did appear to work.

  After chewing on the attack problem, they worried the endless legal battles. Far too many Focus households skated a little too close to the edge of the law. Attempting to keep the Focus households solvent was a major Council responsibility. The households made extensive use of the two unemployed Transform lawyers to fight for their legal rights and for decent treatment, often by the arrangement of the Council.

  In addition, the Council continued lobbying for the right for Focuses to choose their own households rather than accepting the Transforms foisted on them by blind luck and the doctors who worked with Transform Sickness. This wasn’t as hot a topic on the Council as it was among the general population of Focuses; the Focus Network as a whole had begun, last year, independent lobbying efforts for this right. This hadn’t gone over well with the first Focuses, who had decided the general population of Focuses had no right to independent opinions about anything. Opinions were the sole prerogative of the UFA Council. Their edict, however, didn’t make the original problem go away. Too many households ended up with new Transforms who didn’t match the personality and tenor of the household. People like Johnny survived because he got lucky and some Focus had a slot available when he transformed, while upstanding decent men and women died, because they weren’t so lucky, and no slot was available for them. The Focuses wanted control so decent people would survive and made it into their households, not thugs and criminals.

  Their next agenda item concerned the Focuses who were not coping: the young ones, the ones who were overwhelmed, and the ones who were just plain cruel to their people. They talked about the mentoring program, where older Focuses helped the younger ones get started, and tried to figure out why the program didn’t seem to work as well as they thought it should. The big problem seemed to be too many new Focuses and not enough interest by Faith Corrigan. Faith, one of the first Focuses, headed up the mentoring program. She and her cronies hadn’t expanded in number, as had the number of new Focuses. These days she picked and chose, helping her favorite new Focuses and ignoring the rest. The Council decided
to formally request Faith increase the number of mentors.

  Each of them read out their status reports. Polly and Cathy brought up new problems, both too intractable to solve in a simple discussion; both tabled for later. Connie brought up an old problem, Federal and State taxes, and which States had recently enacted new tax laws harmful to Transform households.

  Sometimes the group was even able to do things to help. Not very often.

  The meeting was all very ordinary and mundane. One of Esther’s people took notes and there was nothing in those completely accurate notes that couldn’t have been published in any newspaper in the country. The official Council meetings were the completely above board and public face of the UFA, and didn’t touch the dark stuff.

  At lunch, as they all gathered and talked and caught up on news, Tonya caught Ginny slipping away with Polly. Tonya found herself a seat by the entry to the hall and leaned back with her eyes closed, looking unsociable.

  Ginny and Polly made their way to the master bedroom and shut the door. They spoke in low voices, but not low enough. Tonya had noticed years ago that even Focuses underestimated Focus enhanced hearing. Tonya was nine years past her transformation, her hearing was exceptional, and eavesdropping didn’t trouble her morals in the slightest.

  “So tell me what’s going on,” Polly said, gently.

  Ginny took a moment before she answered, her voice shaky. “I need to tell you officially. I’m going to be resigning my position after this meeting.”

  “Ginny, that’s terrible!” Polly said. “What happened?”

  Ginny hesitated again. “My money issues are now a money problem,” Ginny said. “We can’t afford the travel costs anymore.”

  “Oh, no!” Polly was all warm sympathy. “I thought you had things under control.”

  “Well…” Ginny paused for a long moment. “Unfortunately, last Sunday, someone decided to publish the fact that Mike was a Transform, in the local newspaper. It was a big headline. ‘Local Pediatrician Victim of Transform Sickness.’ Most mothers don’t want to take their kids to a Transform doctor. His whole practice folded up overnight.”

  “Oh, no,” Polly said. “How bad?”

  “Pretty bad,” Ginny said. Her voice quavered, hinting at tears. “He was bringing in a quarter of my whole household’s income. Now it’s gone. And…” She swore under her breath as she tried to bring herself back under control. “…our home went bad. We might possibly be able to cope if we didn’t need to move. But I can’t move the juice any more. The headaches are so bad I can’t even think straight. If we don’t move…if we don’t…if we don’t move,” her voice had gone high as she forced the words out, “I’m going to need to start cutting people out of my household. I can’t support everyone.” The term ‘cutting out’ was an old Focus euphemism for abandoning Transforms by the curbside to die.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Polly said. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Ginny said. “We can’t afford our next move, or the location. Still, we have to move. I shouldn’t have even come here, but I’d already made the down payment on the bus rental, and I thought that if I just got rid of the headache for a little while, I would be able to think of something.”

  “What about going gypsy?” Polly said. “Emily Cottsfield took her household gypsy a couple of months ago, and she’s doing better now.” Cottsfield had ruined her people, making them nearly unfit for gainful employment, because she followed Wini’s advice about how to run a household.

  “We don’t possess any of the necessary skills. If I had a hint this was coming, I might... I…oh, damn. I’m sorry,” she said, as the tears threatened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here and do this. I’m sorry. Just leave me alone for a minute. I’ll be all right.”

  “Oh, Ginny, if there’s anything I can do…”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Ginny said, her voice hoarse with tears. “Leave me alone, please. I’ll be all right by the time the meeting starts again. Just leave me alone.”

  Polly came out of the bedroom and Tonya stayed silent, thinking and still pretending to rest. She wondered if Ginny would figure out some honest way of staying afloat, or if she would finally cross that line she had been avoiding for so long.

  A colder thought swam up from the depths of Tonya’s mind. Who told the newspapers about Ginny’s pediatrician? Ginny didn’t follow the party line at times, and she was too honest to be controlled. Boxed into a corner, Ginny would be forced to sell her soul to one of the older Focuses to keep her household alive.

  Tonya didn’t know who was behind Ginny’s troubles. She knew better than to ask, but she wondered. Some of the first Focuses were far over the line between legal and illegal, and they didn’t tolerate opposition.

  Gilgamesh Talks To Sinclair

  The wind rattled the door of the phone booth as it whistled off the bay and around Candlestick Park. The Stick stood forlorn, waiting for spring, and the Giants, and the first crack of the baseball bat, while Gilgamesh ran through his list of phone numbers for the peripatetic Sinclair. Someone not Sinclair picked up the phone on the call to phone booth number 4, more quarters into the trash. Sinclair himself picked up when Gilgamesh rang phone booth 7.

  “Me,” Sinclair said. His voice was barely audible, and not from a bad connection. With the rattle of the phone booth and whistling of the wind, no one but a Crow could have heard him.

  “You found her,” Gilgamesh said.

  “Yes. Your Tiamat’s in the CDC’s Virginia complex, about the worst place imaginable as far as gristle dross is concerned.”

  “That bad?”

  “No, the place is actually worse,” Sinclair said, annoyed. “If the Arm spends any amount of time there, she’s going to come out damaged.”

  “Then I’d better get working on getting her rescued,” Gilgamesh said. “The Skinner left town last night, to go hunt, and I slid my letter under her door when she was out of range.” He had waited a half hour after, of course, making sure her trip wasn’t a short one. She had taken her hunting and body disposal equipment with her, but the Skinner took those with her whenever she left home without a disguise. “She hasn’t returned and seen my letter yet.” He had also stripped as much dross from her place as he could.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Sinclair said. “Why go to all this effort? Why risk so much?”

  “I must,” Gilgamesh said. His meager funds nearly depleted, he still tossed in quarters to fund phone booth long distance telephone calls. He had grown too dependent on Tiamat’s handouts…which wasn’t Crow-like. He wished he had the time to finish the correspondence course on television and radio repair.

  Gilgamesh took a deep breath. “I realized I had been doing nothing but reacting to life’s challenges. I thought I was making decisions, but, realistically, I wasn’t. I decided to stop allowing myself to be carried where life leads me. I’m striking out on my own and carving my own path, now.”

  If he made even the slightest effort to see Tiamat rescued, he would be going against the nebulous ‘this is how things are done’ philosophy ruling most if not all Crows. Helping Tiamat would also be dangerous. The obvious next step for him to take, helping on an actual rescue attempt, made him sick with fear.

  “Shadow does know how to pick his Crows,” Sinclair said, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. “Guru Shadow and Guru Innocence both do. We all have causes, be it helping Transforms, like myself, Occum and his Beasts, and Ezekiel with his worries about civilization. Looks like you found your cause, Gilgamesh. At least it isn’t as politically catastrophic as Midgard’s.”

  Midgard had taken on the cause of helping other Crows survive, and it had so far netted him visits from representatives of Chevalier and another important senior Crow by the name of Snow, and a more kindly personal visit from Thomas the Dreamer, all imploring him to cease and desist. Chevalier’s representative, Echo, had told Midgard none of the Crows west of the Mississippi would offer him a
id of any kind, because of what he did.

  “Thank you,” Gilgamesh said. He had no choice. He had to help Tiamat. He would learn to be adventurous. Adventurous for a Crow, at least. He needed to talk to Sky.

  “I have a different question, and I might be presumptuous in asking it, but I think I must,” Sinclair said. “Tiamat is a murderous predator and would probably kill you or enslave you if you weren’t taking precautions. Was Tiamat’s capture such a terrible thing?”

  Gilgamesh opened his mouth to bark, shocked at the question, but he held his temper in check. The answers seemed so obvious to him. Not to Sinclair, though, so Gilgamesh pushed the remnants of panic and irrationality down.

  “Well, an Arm is the only thing capable of opposing a Beast Man. After she graduated and left the Skinner, Tiamat’s murderous rages against the normals diminished. Not gone away, mind you, but diminished. I was making progress with my contacts with her. She understands, now, that Crows aren’t useful juice sources. She knows we can be of help.” He paused. “I like Tiamat, at least when she’s not scaring the crap out of me. She’s intelligent, witty, and, dammit, fun to talk to. Also, as you well know, Arm dross is the best. I’ve been living off of her kills for so long I almost feel like I owe her for them. From a dispassionate and pragmatic perspective, at least in her time in Chicago, I believe she’s saving more lives than she’s taking. Psychos and Monsters are dangerous, Sinclair.”

  “Yes,” Sinclair said. “Monsters and Psychos do kill unwary Crows. Your logic is impeccable, but only if your data is correct. Some still think Tiamat is the one hunting Crows. I don’t think so personally, but some Crows still do.”

  “I understand,” Gilgamesh said. A sudden burst of wind opened the door of the phone booth. He leaned against it to shut it again. “My decision comes from more than distant logic and my personal connection to Tiamat. You remember what young Crows are like, Sinclair. I remember what I was like when I lived without her. The fact I’m not a pathetic young Crow is because of her.”