Flesh and Blood

by French, Jackie

  ‘That’s a bit ruthless.’ It was difficult to imagine Theo, mild-mannered accountant and closet vampire, putting up a defence shield that caused mental irritation at first and death if you persisted. But then strangers might bring death too.

  Neil’s hand began to absently rub up and down my thigh. The City might be more ruthless, I thought, but they did it all at arm’s length. The Outlands looked after themselves. The utopias’ ability to isolate themselves was what had kept them alive through the Declines. Many utopias in fact had been formed by Citysiders fleeing from the plagues. Yes, Theo would do what he had to do to keep the community safe.

  ‘I can’t quite accept it,’ I said slowly. ‘The idea that we might really be in danger. But Theo and Elaine seemed to take it in their stride.’

  ‘They lived through the last one,’ said Neil.

  ‘No cases here?’

  ‘None. I seem to remember people in iso suits taking it in turns to care for sick strangers. There was a clinic set up — you know the storeroom by the top boundary? There.’

  ‘Will the community set it up as a clinic again do you think?’

  ‘Probably. Theo will want to. Elaine too. But they’ll chat to a few people first.’ Our utopia, Faith Hope and Charity, rarely held formal debates or voted on issues. It mostly operated on a casual consensus, on the basis that most of the time no-one cared much either way. But this would be different.

  ‘I suppose there’ll be a meeting,’ I said slowly. ‘Should we go down to it?’

  ‘No. We know the news anyway. And I don’t want everyone asking questions about our lack of hair,’ said Neil lightly, his hand on my breast. ‘Will they get bigger, do you think?’

  I wrenched my mind from neuro fences and plague clinics. ‘Probably,’ I said. ‘Then sag down to my waist if I don’t get them regenerated.’

  ‘Better make the most of this shape then,’ said Neil.

  We made love again and slept, and when I woke in terror later in the night Neil’s warm body soothed me, and I slept again.

  But the terror lingered in the happiness, all the same.

  chapter 14

  I spent the next two weeks combing the Nets. Despite the seriousness of the situation I felt the euphoria every time I Linked. It was like stretching again after two years cramped in a small box. It was a shock, sometimes, to slow down to Realtime, to talk to Neil. Even when I washed up now or made the bed, I let the data trickle through my mind.

  Neil still found it too overwhelming to MindLink for more than a few seconds, much less scan the Nets. The longest he had managed was a five-minute dataLink and that left him drained and nauseous.

  He was spending most of the day down at the labs or orchards now. His hair had fuzzed across his head again, so you could hardly see the scars. My hair was taking longer to grow. I wondered if it was because the baby was growing too.

  I called Dr Meredith at the end of the first week. I’d called her before, of course, to warn her about the plague. Like Theo and Elaine she had seemed almost to have been expecting it. I suppose if you have never known disaster it’s difficult to believe it’s possible, but once you have experienced it you half expect it all the time.

  I’d thought that I might have found her in the lab, tinkering with some plague vaccine or cure but instead she answered her comsig in the kitchen, a mess of flour and a billow of dough beside her.

  ‘Danielle — social call or problem?’ She looked at me sharply.

  ‘Problem. Not urgent.’ I wished suddenly that she was Forest, not Tree, so that I could MindLink my concerns fast and fully. What would her Forest descendants be like, I wondered. Would they take up medicine too? Or be super-efficient turkey breeders. ‘Neil still can’t Link. Not much anyway.’

  ‘I see.’ She wiped her hands on her apron. It had a yellow duck appliqued on it. Her choice? I wondered, or a child’s gift to great-great-grandma? ‘What do you mean by “not much”?’

  ‘Five minutes on the Net leaves him shaking. Third of a second, perhaps, with me.’

  ‘But otherwise no problems? No memory loss? Concentration problems?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  ‘Well, that’s a blessing anyway.’ She bit her lip. ‘I suspect the problem is a bit like giving a legless man legs when he’s never used them before — never even seen people walk. Neil is bound to find your MindLink — that’s what you call it, isn’t it? — overwhelming.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I think I’d find it overwhelming myself. Or the more so if I was having to learn it with someone to whom it was second nature.

  ‘Give him time, my dear. And by time I mean months, or even years, not a few weeks.’ She began to knead the dough, not absentmindedly, but as though she wanted her hands working in the solid comfort of the flour and water. ‘Have you had any more word on the plague?’

  ‘No. I’d have told you. Maybe it’s been halted in the City.’

  ‘Possible. Not likely.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Plagues spread in cities, though they mostly start where humans and animals live close together. Farms. Outlands. But you must know all that.’

  I nodded. ‘I wondered perhaps if it could possibly have started in one of the City labs.’

  ‘Not unless their hygiene standards have dropped dramatically since I was last there,’ she said grimly. ‘Admittedly that was over a century ago but I suspect they are better, not worse, now. No, my dear, this will be an Outland plague. You can bet on it.’

  ‘So I’ll keep looking.’

  ‘Yes. Keep looking. And if — when — you find something, I’d be grateful if you’d let me know.’

  ‘Of course. We’re … I’m … we owe you a lot.’

  She grinned. I’d like to say it was the ghost of a young girl’s grin peering through the aged face. But it wasn’t. It was the grin of an elderly woman who had seen immeasurably more than I had dreamt of.

  ‘You’ve given a lot in return. Your genes to begin with. And the warning which might just save our lives. But don’t think I’m refusing your gratitude. It may be useful. Take care my dear.’ The image faded.

  chapter 15

  So I kept searching, till the novelty of being able to Link totally again wore off, and all I had was weariness.

  But I found nothing. Or rather too much, none of it relevant: SchoolNet lessons on ancient geography from the time when it was still possible to travel from one side of the world to another (while still technically possible there had been no mass travel since the last bioplague); lists of eggs or venison or dried pineapple for trade; gossip; plans for photovoltaic paint; conversations between Wanderers working on banana plantations or prawn farms and their mums.

  Nothing that hinted at disease or terror.

  But the Outland utopias were spread out. It would be possible, I thought, for a plague to wipe out one or even two or three communities, and no-one would notice. Perhaps the original plague carriers had been farmers, had brought a load of corn into the City, had sniffed or sneezed and left their contagion there and gone home to die. And if they’d all died there would be no-one left to spread the plague elsewhere in the Outlands.

  Perhaps the plague was only in the City now.

  Possible. Not likely.

  Meanwhile Theo kept the go-away signals pulsing, trekked out to coax the centaurs into the paddocks around the community and maintained his neuro fences. I put my credit line at Elaine’s disposal, to order a reserve of medical supplies in case the City ran short. Faith, Hope and Charity was wealthy enough, but like most utopias its credit was ploughed back into equipment or housing. It rarely had deep credit lying around unused.

  It still seemed a slightly insane overreaction when — apart from Michael’s call — there hadn’t been the slightest evidence of risk. But if Dr Meredith and Theo and Elaine took it seriously, so must I.

  At the end of the month something did happen. Melanie was transferred to Dr Meredith at the Green Trees Clinic.

  Understandab
ly, none of Dr Meredith’s boys had volunteered to go to the City — for as well as risking the plague they’d also be admitting to proscribed skills. Instead Melanie was tested for the virus (though given her isolation she was unlikely to be carrying it) and sent by automatic floater to my house. From there I’d take her to a rendezvous with one of the Green Trees floaters which would take her — by whatever roundabout means — back to the Clinic.

  It wasn’t foolproof. If the City wanted to they could follow her; could even insert a microchip to find her exact location. I could only trust that Michael was powerful enough to prevent that. I had to trust him and, once again, Green Trees trusted me.

  It was early morning when she arrived. I’d been watching, weeding in the garden as the mist cleared above the trees. It was strangely eerie seeing the floater wend its way through the tree trunks. Two years ago I’d arrived from the City in just such a floater, perhaps it was even the same one. The City had damaged me too, though in a different way to Mel.

  The floater drew to a stop outside the fence, next to the floater I now kept permanently by the house. I washed the dirt off my hands under the tap, then walked through the gate and opened the floater door.

  I don’t know what I expected. A thin wraith in a grey dress, perhaps, drooling and vacant.

  She didn’t look like that at all.

  She looked like Mel, like the child I’d grown up with, the teenager I’d explored life with, the young adult I’d shared an apartment with, the friend I’d seen destroyed as the power surge ripped through her brain. She looked like all of them, the person I’d known so closely her loss had torn out part of my life and I suddenly knew why I’d never tried to see her — even though I had been banished from the City and she was in FullCare, there might still have been a way. Surely Michael could have arranged a temporary exit for her, as he’d arranged it now. I could even have arranged for her care in the Outlands.

  But I hadn’t, because I couldn’t cope with the pain.

  Now it seemed I could. Now I was part of a Forest again, not just a lonely Tree. This was different Forest, it was true, not the community of minds I’d known before. This was a Forest of Neil, Theo, Elaine, Ophelia, all the others out here or at Black Stump. And one day, I thought, it might even be the old Forest once again.

  I stepped into the floater and took her hand. She let me, though she didn’t look at me. But when I tugged she stood up and followed me from the floater, which relieved me, as I’d wondered if we’d have to carry her.

  I avoided looking at the stasis box on the seat opposite. Mel’s Norm clone’s brain was in there, and perhaps her body clone too, though brain and body are usually kept separately for stasis clones, to avoid ever thinking of them as a person.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’ Neil stood behind me.

  I shook my head. I felt an absurd longing to introduce them, to say: ‘Mel, this is Neil; Neil, this is my best friend.’ But I didn’t.

  I walked into the house, holding her hand, and she walked with me. It was a good house. It had sheltered me well, had played its own part in my learning to be human again. I should have brought Mel here long ago, I thought, and felt guilt nibble at me.

  Neil followed us. I suppose he wondered what I was doing — I’d planned to take her straight from the City floater into mine. But he didn’t say anything. The computer wasn’t on. He couldn’t share my thoughts, but he didn’t need a computer Link to read them.

  ‘Will I put the kettle on?’

  I looked at him gratefully, and nodded. I sat with her on the sofa while Neil brought cups of tea and a plate of Elaine’s chocolate chip and peanut biscuits and I held the teacup to her lips so she drank and the biscuit while she bit and chewed and swallowed and the tears were streaking down my face but it didn’t matter. Mel was in my house and we were having tea together.

  Then I blew my nose and led her to the floater.

  chapter 16

  Neil was waiting when I got back.

  ‘All okay?’

  I took the cup of tea he offered me. ‘Yes. They were waiting. Dr Meredith came herself.’

  ‘What are her chances?’

  ‘You know Dr Meredith. No data, she says. It hasn’t been done before so there is no information to go on.’ I took a sip of tea. ‘I think she’s enjoying herself.’

  ‘New projects to work on,’ said Neil. ‘I suppose you run out of challenges at her age.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I sounded like Michael, I thought. I’d have to stop using that word. ‘She did say she thought they’d manage some retrieval at least. I suppose that means enough to make her able to care for herself, recognise people perhaps.’

  ‘That’s something,’ said Neil.

  ‘A lot. But recovering her old abilities and her memories … I gathered the chances are low. But as I said, Dr Meredith didn’t really say much at all. Anything happen here?’

  ‘Elaine sent up some bread and eggs and stuff. The Centaur’s been back too — the one that was here the other day.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe he fancies you.’

  ‘He’s got quite enough mares of his own,’ I said dryly. ‘I think he marks out his territory or something, you know, trots around the perimeters and leaves his droppings.’

  ‘Do horses do that?’

  ‘No idea.’ Nor did I care enough to Link and find out. ‘But he’s not just a horse, remember. He’s an Animal. Human too.’

  ‘And humans are territorial? Well, I suppose we are in a way.’ Neil lost interest. ‘What do you want for dinner?’

  It still seemed odd, even after two years, to have to think about dinner in time for it to be prepared, instead of just eating Basic with a Virtual overlay to make the mind believe it was roast eland, korma curry or whatever. I’d been able to afford Realfood, back in my City days, but had rarely bothered.

  ‘What is there?’

  ‘Stir-fry vegetables with eggs?’

  I nodded. Someone had looked after our vegetable garden while we’d been away. And Virtual, I’d discovered, didn’t quite give all the subtleties of food you’d grown yourself, nor even a millionth of its satisfaction.

  We picked the vegetables together: slightly split carrots with dirt clinging to them, celery not quite as plump as their Virtual images, bok choi and groundnuts and cardoon stems. It felt extraordinarily good to be home.

  chapter 17

  It was dark when she came. We’d eaten dinner, were sitting by the window waiting for the moon to rise between the hills and talking of nothing in particular, baby names, I think, but nothing serious — Claudia or Esmeralda or She Who Must be Obeyed — to give the kid a good start in life said Neil, when suddenly I saw movement beyond the garden, a flash of a pale face.

  I assumed it was Theo or Elaine, or maybe one of the men from the apple labs, come to chat to Neil about the progress of variety x4y6. I waited for the knock on the door. I’d put the kettle on to be welcoming, I thought, if it was one of Neil’s mates, then go and do some work.

  No-one knocked. ‘I thought I saw someone outside,’ I said.

  Neil raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll have a look.’

  Suddenly fear clutched me. We were safe within the utopia’s neuro fence of course. No-one could possibly pass it. But all at once an image of a plague-carrying Wanderer came into my mind.

  ‘Neil, be careful.’

  He looked at me curiously, so I wondered if maybe the clichés were true, and pregnant women did get strange fancies. But weren’t they supposed to be food cravings, not sudden fears of strangers at the door?

  I listened as Neil opened the door, then unable to stand still ran out to join him. He turned as I came out. ‘It’s one of the centaur mares!’ he called.

  None of the centaurs had names — it seemed they didn’t have the ability to recognise names, or at least to see them as relevant to themselves — and it would have been patronising for the utopians to give them nicknames. So the male was the Centaur, and the mares were the white one, the dappled, the piebald and so o
n.

  I peered into the darkness. It was the dappled mare, her coat merging with the shadows. I walked along the path towards her. I’d never seen any of the mares up this way before. Usually they stayed in a herd down on the grasslands. It was only the male who roamed.

  ‘Hello,’ I said tentatively. I’d heard that the mares had less language ability than the male, but had never spoken to one.

  She blinked at me. Her eyes were large and brown, with stumpy lashes. I tried not to stare at her bare breasts, long and sagging on the human half of her body. She whinnied at me — at least I thought it was a whinny, then all at once realised it was a word. ‘Huuummmaaaaan.’

  I tried to understand. ‘Yes, I’m a human. So is Neil.’

  ‘Huuuuuuuummmmmaannnnn,’ she whinnied again.

  ‘You want a human?’ Suddenly an idea struck me. ‘Your …’ Husband? Stallion? ‘He asked you to get a human?’

  ‘Heeeeeee.’ That word was clearer. She jerked her head in a series of nods, the long matted hair bouncing on her neck. It was dappled too, like her body.

  ‘I think he sent her to get help,’ I said. ‘But why us?’

  ‘Maybe she can’t open the paddock gates to get to the main community,’ Neil pointed out.

  I looked at her hands, stubby and square fingered. They looked like they’d manage gates. But if she’d never opened a gate before, perhaps in an emergency she didn’t dare try.

  ‘Cooooooome!’ The word was more sung than spoken, but the urgency was clear.

  ‘Maybe he’s broken a leg or something. I’ll get a torch,’ said Neil.

  The moon had risen now, a curl of orange rind above the hills, but we still needed the torchlight. She led us up the hill that separated our house from the rest of the community, and then along the ridge. The lights glowed below us, the clusters of houses in their neat rows, the reddish light at the end of the main building where Elaine had her clinic, a light at the other end where Theo and Elaine had their quarters. You could just see the glint of moonlight on apple-tree leaves, and a gold shine on the black water of the main dam and the beach that I’d installed last year.