Mindline

by M. C. A. Hogarth

"Yes," Jahir said, with a subdued sorrow that tasted like wine. That impression was unexpected enough that Vasiht'h paused before continuing.

  "And I wouldn't trade the good for the absence of the bad," Vasiht'h said, when he was sure of his voice. "You might not have known what we were walking into when we started encouraging the mindtouches, but I did. I grew up with people who didn't think anything of falling in and out of each other's heads." He poured. "I know it's going to take a while for you to accept that I mean this, and to work past your own upbringing. Until then, I'll repeat it so you'll remember. It's all right. I don't mind the bad moments."

  "There are like to be many bad moments," Jahir said, low.

  "Before we get out of here?" Vasiht'h pushed the cup over to him. "Maybe. But maybe things will look up too. So tell me what has you so wound up, and then I'll share my day with you and cheer you up."

  Jahir inhaled, eyes closing. "Apparently my suggestion has caused some consternation in the department. An autopsy revealed a desperate condition, and now everyone would very much like to know how I understood the problem to be related to illegal drugs rather than any of the other possibilities."

  "So they did do the autopsy?" Vasiht'h said, ears flattening. "On..."

  "The first patient to present with the condition," Jahir said. "A human male. He had some substantial deterioration of the brain."

  Vasiht'h frowned, and he guessed his furious thinking communicated itself to Jahir because the Eldritch finished, "Doctor Levine said what they found was 'like sludge.' What are you thinking, arii?"

  "That it's strange they didn't notice that until the autopsy," Vasiht'h said. "The halo-arch should have picked up some sign of deterioration long before it got to the point of... well, catastrophic meltdown like that."

  "That seems reasonable," Jahir said. "But I admit, even a year of schooling and an internship at Seersana's General, I still am not familiar enough with medicine here to guess at why the halo-arch might have missed something. Alliance technology still seems magical to me. When there is magic, it is hard to guess what things are impossible." He warmed his fingers on the tea, rolling the cup between his hands. "Whatever the case, my shift supervisor, my residency supervisor, and now the department head are all very interested in what more I might learn from the two cases that arrived earlier. And the latter has suggested that if I do not divine anything from them, I might go check on the other cases in a clinic across the city."

  "Which I hope you explained might be asking a little much?" Vasiht'h said. "You got the information you did by chance. The only way you could possibly duplicate your success is by sitting at the side of one of these people until she dies. And that's assuming that there will be anyone to sit by—if the autopsy showed there was some problem with their brains, I'm sure they've already got a neuro specialist just waiting for the chance to get his hands on one of them so they can find a way to cure them."

  "I had not thought of that," Jahir said, and hope crept into the mindline like the suggestion of relief after pain.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't already figured something out by the time you come in tomorrow," Vasiht'h said. "Just watch. Now. Ask me who I saw today?"

  Obediently, Jahir said, "Who did you see?"

  Vasiht'h let the images leak: the two girls playing flying saucer, squealing with laughter. Jahir sat up abruptly, tea forgotten.

  "Oh, they are well!"

  "Better than I expected," Vasiht'h said. "And they'd love to see you."

  That brilliant joy became muted, so abruptly it felt like a cloud covering the sun.

  "You're thinking that it's going to be hard for you to get away, given how you feel," Vasiht'h said. "And maybe it would be. But there's no reason you have to go all the way over to their house. We can meet somewhere closer, where you don't have to walk much or get up. You get one day a week off, yes?"

  "Yes," Jahir said slowly.

  "And it would be good to see some people you know," Vasiht'h said. "Especially the girls."

  A sigh, and affirmation, warm and quiet and sure. "Yes."

  "Let me arrange it?"

  "Tentatively," Jahir said. "This situation with the hospital... I don't know how it will develop. Radimir and Jiron—my shift and residency supervisors, respectively—say that it's unusual for people in our specialty to end up involved in anything so urgent. If you're right, I should no longer be involved soon... so... tentatively."

  "A few days," Vasiht'h said. "I'm sure it'll be in other people's hands by then. Don't forget how many people are working on this, arii. Not just your department, but now the surgical specialists, the emergency personnel, the city police, no doubt the city's public health officials.... it's not all on your shoulders." He felt the ease creeping into the mindline. "Let's get you fed and into your bed, all right? I've got warm milk on the stove already. Drink it and sleep. Tomorrow things should be easier."

  Chapter 13

  "He says," Aralyn reported, watching the Naysha sign, "that you shouldn't exercise today. Soaking only."

  Jahir glanced at Paga. "Is there some reason...?"

  Paga glanced at Aralyn, enormous eyes unblinking. The Asanii sighed and sat on the edge of the pool, sliding her legs into the water and flexing her feet. "Look, you haven't told us what you've been up to at Mercy. But your stress level in the past week..." She shared a look with the Naysha and shook her head. "It's been tremendous. Neither of us need the vital sign monitors to notice it."

  Jahir said, "It is not intentional, I assure you."

  "I know. We both do. But there's only so far we can push you when your heart's already hammering at the speed of light." She smiled wryly. "I think having you keel over is not what Healer Gillespie has in mind for your treatment plan." Paga signed something and she added, "Yes. Contraindicated. Very much so."

  "I would very much like to learn the sign for 'contraindicated,'" Jahir said, allowing himself to smile.

  Paga snorted and pointed at one of the private chambers, then signed at length. Jahir caught some of it now: simple pronouns, words about water and rest. Aralyn waited until he was done and then frowned in concentration, swishing her legs in the water idly. "This is... a psychological thing," she said at last. "If you don't mind that."

  "Not at all."

  She nodded. "Paga has made the suggestion that we discuss throttling your exercise program back in favor of time in the water spent recuperating mentally. That normally we'd be trying to strengthen your body because someone in your position would be moving as little as possible during the day. But that's not true of you, is it?" She lifted her brows.

  "I... don't know." Jahir sat on the steps leading into the pool, chest-deep, so that he could face them both without leaving the water. "I don't know how little is typical. But I do my work. It is why I came. It is not strenuous work under normal circumstances."

  "But it involves staying on your feet for eight hours straight?" Aralyn asked.

  Paga rolled his eyes, and that gesture in a Naysha, executed with those vast irises and coin-sized pupils, was dramatic. Jahir cleared his throat and offered, "Sometimes I sit?"

  "Sometimes he sits," Aralyn muttered. To Paga, "I think you're entirely right." She sighed and pointed at Jahir. "You are a stubborn man, you know that?"

  "I have been so accused, now and then," Jahir said, lowering his head.

  She snorted. "I bet. Since we can take for granted that you're overworking yourself, I'm going to talk to Gillespie about formalizing the change. For now, though, I want you to come here and... rest. In the water. You can do one lap to practice your technique if you want, but only one lap, and I'm going to reset the heart rate monitor to something more aggressive. If you hear it go off, or if Paga signs for you to stop, you do that immediately, understood?"

  "Yes, alet."

  Aralyn clambered to her feet. "Good. Now float like a good patient. And get out when you're ready. And if you want to use the private pools, check yourself into one."

  After
she'd walked away, Paga tapped the water—a more gentle bid for attention than his open-palmed slaps—and then clapped the translation on. /You have questions, I think./

  "How did you know?" Jahir lifted a hand, shook his head a little. "That I was overworking, not that I had questions."

  /You give me much credit. Aralyn also noticed. She thinks it is the monitor that tells her, but she has good instincts. That is what she hears with./ The Naysha tilted his head on the stalk of his neck. /I know because I hear/taste it in the water./

  "Oh," Jahir whispered. "How very much I would like to know how that feels to you…!"

  /You could. Yes? I am not wrong in that understanding?/

  "No, you're not," Jahir said. "And if that was an offer to share that sense with me, oh, how I would gladly accept—"

  Paga's translucent eyelids narrowed, just a touch. /Except?/

  "Except I am so raw," Jahir said, sliding his hands up his arms and leaning over them. That the admission came so easily was a surprise, but something about the Naysha elicited the confidence. Jahir could not imagine Paga breaking trust with him; water held too many secrets for someone immersed in it not to know how to keep them. "I'm not used to the amount of touching I'm doing lately, and there's only one influence to steady me in any of it."

  /And this is part of what has your body so taxed./

  "No doubt," Jahir murmured.

  /Then you come to this water to be healed. Do you understand?/ Tapping the water for emphasis. /This remains therapeutic. But you and I know the truth. What you need from this is not strength. Not the strength of the body. The strength here./ Touching his breast. /This strength./

  Jahir looked at him for a long moment. Then he said, "Yes."

  /Go soak in the private pool. And, alet./ When Jahir looked up, Paga finished, /When you are no longer raw. When you have a center to move from. You come to me, and I will share what it is like. To taste/hear through the water./

  A shiver ran the length of Jahir's spine, though he held himself tightly to keep from revealing it. "Ah, alet. You give me a reason to work toward my health."

  The Naysha grinned. /I know. I am a therapist. My task, to find incentives. Yes?/

  Jahir laughed. "And you do very well at it."

  Only one of the unresponsive patients remained in the ward when Jahir arrived.

  "Taken away for surgery prep," Radimir told him as the Eldritch washed his hands and tucked the chain he'd hung his ring on beneath his collar. "They're going to try tomorrow. The surgeon they've tapped for it is the best in the city—one of ours, of course—but she's full up today and she wants time to study the autopsy results and the male's body before she goes in."

  Jahir closed his eyes, and a feeling very like a prayer fell through him like a ray of sunlight. "I am very glad to hear it."

  "So are we," Radimir said. "If it can be put back together, Septima can do it."

  "Am I still—"

  "On death watch for the last patient?" The Harat-Shar's smile was crooked. "I'm afraid so. Since there's only the one, though, I think you should do the usual rounds. We'll keep you off triage so you can be available if his status changes, but Levine was adamant. For once, the light is shining on our department and she doesn't want to fail. Particularly not with everyone watching."

  "Understood," Jahir said. "I go."

  "And alet?"

  Jahir paused at the door.

  "You're going above and beyond what we ask of people." Radimir's shoulders were tense and his tail flicked in agitation, and his eyes were clouded with a worry so distinct Jahir could feel it from across the room. "We ask a lot of our people; that's what we're known for, after all. But I know, and some of the rest of us know, that what you're doing is something none of us could do, and that none of us will really understand what it costs you. Just that it does." He grimaced. "I'm not saying this well. But I want you to know Griffin and I are serious about looking out for you."

  For a moment, Jahir said nothing, in his astonishment, in his gratitude. Then he dipped his head and said, "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Remember to take your breaks."

  For once the shopping was done early; Vasiht'h checked the status of the pantry—or what passed for one in the apartment's excuse for a kitchen—and the stasis unit and was satisfied. He had time to go wander, find a sunny place to catch up on his schoolwork and maybe read some of the correspondence from his family. He had letters from two cousins, one of his older sisters, three brothers and his grandmother to read, and while he wouldn't get through all of them today they would make a good reward for getting through his legal class lectures for the week. Vasiht'h packed and padded out, checking his data tablet for someplace to go. Several festivals and performances popped up on the city locator—tempting, but probably too distracting—but hadn't Jahir said something about a coffee shop? Any place that buttered its coffee had to be worth investigating. A quick search found him the likely culprit and he set off that way by foot, eschewing the Pad kiosks that might have brought him there more quickly. He didn't feel like waiting in line, no matter how quickly it was moving; this close to lunch, there were a lot of people eager to skip the travel time to their destinations.

  There was an exhilarating freedom in not having to attend classes, he reflected as he passed beneath a trellis of riotous orange flowers and started down the walk past several high rises. He could get used to making his own schedule. And he supposed he'd have to, if he truly went into private practice. Vasiht'h frowned. Of course, he didn't know what his life would look like in the future. After his experiences last year he was committed to the clinical therapy track, which would see him graduated with a degree to practice xenotherapy as a private psychotherapist, either as part of an existing practice or head of a new one. Jahir, though, was still in the medical track. They'd have to find a hospital for him to work at. What would that be like? A little awkward, maybe, but they would figure it out, wouldn't they? That's what friends did. Or… partners, Vasiht'h guessed. They were more than friends now, and a side-step from lovers. Partners worked.

  The coffee shop was tucked into the corner of a building several stories tall, but shorter than the skyscrapers around it; there were two footbridges above its roof, in fact, one close enough for Vasiht'h to see the buckles on people's shoes, and one far enough that he had trouble making out what species they were. The aroma wafting from the interior when the door opened was promising, and there was a small patio shaded with vines trained onto another trellis and potted trees.

  Ten minutes later, he returned to the patio and settled at one of the low tables with a mug of something he wasn't entirely sure of: kerinne with a shot of espresso? But he thought it might be interesting, and he could well imagine Jahir being willing to try it. His tentative sip convinced him that it was drinkable, but he still couldn't make up his mind about it. As he rolled the taste over his tongue, he wondered… could he carry the sensation back to Jahir? Share the memory of it? Would the mindline work that way? Maybe only if his memories of it were good. He concentrated on it, closing his eyes and savoring it, trying to fix in mind the bitter complexity of the taste, the sweetness and spice of the cinnamon, the richness of the cream.

  Strange to think that a memory could be a gift. A literal one, to be passed to someone else. Pleased, Vasiht'h drew his data tablet from his saddlebag and started on his legal coursework.

  "They're all nervous as a Karaka'An in hell without a map," Paige said. "And you know we have twenty of them. Hells, I mean." She leaned against the door into triage. "Thank An for a quiet night. I think if we checked any more of those patients in Levine would have a coronary."

  "At least it would give us something to do," Maya said from in the room, where she was running routine diagnostics on the equipment.

  Paige flipped her ears back, but didn't disagree. She said, "At least that Tam-illee widower's family came for him."

  "I saw," Jahir said. "I hope they take good care of him."

  "
They will," Maya said. She set aside her data tablet and picked up her cup. "We're pretty good about that. We lose so many kids.... we build the support networks before we need them. Because we know we probably will." She managed a wintry smile. "I'm going to go get a refill, Paige. Watch the room for me?"

  "Sure."

  As she padded into the room, Jahir said, "I am sorry I have not been able to relieve you, alet."

  She snorted. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't want the job they saddled you with, believe me."

  He was surprised that he agreed with her, though he kept it to himself. He'd assumed that any form of work would have its disagreeable chores; certainly that had been true at home, and the husbandry of an estate while it might have seemed glamorous most involved a great deal of tedium and hard work. But he loved so much of xenopsychology. To learn that there were parts of it he might not love at all was disconcerting, particularly when he'd been warned by everyone who cared about him that the medical psychology careers could be... wearing.

  This certainly qualified as wearing.

  Jahir returned to his vigil on the remaining patient, a Hinichi male. The only thing that leavened the oppression of his hours there was the knowledge that this patient's companion would be in surgery tomorrow. He knew the magic of Alliance medical technology could fail—had held the evidence of it in his own arms when it had—but he could not bring himself to believe that this puzzle would be beyond one of the best surgeons on the capital world.

  A memory from Seersana drifted past: Kindlesflame across a coffee shop table with him, talking about the medical paradigm, and the dangers of falling too in love with it. A lecture about the autonomy of the body, and the need to intervene as little as possible to support the healing. And at the last, a warning that there was intensity to be found in an emergency room, even in the short time one had with the patients there. Jahir opened his eyes and focused on the quiescent body, watching the ribcage lift and fall beneath the thin hospital gown.

  Radimir leaned into the room. "Nothing, ah?"