“You’re doing fine, Annie,” he said, his lips flapping. His own eyes did not remain steadily on mine—they kept moving, shifting, looking at me and then looking away and then looking down and then looking back at me. His eyebrows were moving too, and it was confusing to watch, but I knew that he wanted me to watch. So I did, even though I couldn’t think and watch at the same time. I wished I were in my mechano so that I could turn down my visual acuity. I tried to let my eyes go out of focus, but I kept seeing his eyes move.
That was how it was when NTs talked with each other. They looked at each other and they looked away. If I looked too much, Dr. Rhodes would tell me I was staring. NTs didn’t stare, but they looked. It was all very complicated, like an intricate dance. Look up, look away, smile, blink, and it all meant something if you were NT.
I didn’t understand that dance. I asked mv mother what all that looking at each other and looking away meant exactly, and she couldn’t tell me. She couldn’t tell me how to perform the intricate eye dance that NTs did. But Dr. Rhodes wanted me to make eye contact.
“What did you want to tell me, Annie?” Dr. Rhodes asked.
I couldn’t remember. I was watching his lips move, watching his eyes move.
“Last time we talked, you told me about the crabs on the beach,” he said. “Are there still crabs on the beach?”
“Yes,” I said, rocking and thinking about eye contact.
“Can you tell me about the crabs and look at me as you talk?” Dr. Rhodes asked.
I tried. I managed to tell him that some crabs had one big red claw, which they waved around.
Dr. Rhodes told me that they were fiddler crabs, that the male crabs had a big red claw that they used to signal to the female crabs and to scare away other male crabs. He said that he had studied crabs when he was an undergraduate student in biology, before he became a pediatric neurologist.
He asked me questions about the crabs and I answered as well as I could, through the haze of air-conditioner noise and the confusion of watching his mouth move.
Finally he said that it was time for me to go to the exercise room and our session was over. I walked on the treadmill for forty-five minutes, swam in the pool for forty-five minutes, and then went back to my tank, where I slept through the night.
DR. RHODES
The overhead lights were a distraction. He had forgotten about that. Usually, he met with Annie in his office, where his assistant had replaced the overhead fluorescent lights with incandescent floor lamps to give the place a warmer feel. But a technician had been working on the air-conditioning in his office, so he had moved his meeting with Annie to one of Atlantis Mining’s regular conference rooms.
Still, he felt that his oversight had provided an excellent learning opportunity. He had given Annie an incentive to communicate her needs clearly, rather than assuming that he knew them.
The project was going very well, he thought. Over the next month, he would be evaluating how Annie’s time alone in the mechano affected her ability to interact in her own body. He was pleased that Eric Westerman, the president of Atlantis Mining, had allowed him this opportunity to evaluate the potential of the telepresence experience as a therapeutic tool.
It was a pity that the storm had knocked out the cameras that ordinarily provided him with the opportunity to monitor Annie’s daily activity on the island. He had put in two requests for repair to the supervisor of operations responsible for equipment on Annie’s island and had received no word back. But the gap in the data was a minor matter. Tracking changes in Annie’s behavior during therapy sessions was much more significant. All in all, he felt that the day’s session had been quite successful.
THE MECHANO
I was back in my mechano, happy to be there. I opened my eyes to the first light of the tropical dawn and left the charging hut. It wasn’t until I saw Evan Collins on the beach that I realized I had not told Dr. Rhodes about him. I had tried to tell Dr. Rhodes, but I had not succeeded.
The man was sleeping, his head pillowed on his orange life jacket. He didn’t look good. The scrape on his cheek looked puffy and red. His skin was marked with red spots—bites of sand fleas. He had scratched some of them until they bled. He had wrapped his arms around himself, as if for warmth, but he was shivering a little in his sleep.
The bottles of water that I had carried from the boat were all empty. They lay beside him in the sand. I brought him a coconut, piercing it with the mechano’s mandibles so that he could drink.
Then I went to work and sorted rocks. But I kept thinking about the man. I thought so much about him that I forgot to bring a rock for the crabs when I returned to the island.
When I got back, he was sitting up under the palm tree, and his eyes were open. There were dark circles under his eyes.
“Annie,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “I’m very thirsty. I need water.”
I looked at the empty bottles on the sand. “I brought all the water I found on the boat,” I told him.
“Is there any fresh water on the island?” he asked in his rasping voice.
“No.” The mechano did not need fresh water. “Do you want a coconut?”
“Okay. A coconut.”
I had to search for a while to find a coconut. I had already brought him the ones that were nearby. But I found one, brought it back, and pierced it for him. He drank thirstily.
“What did Dr. Rhodes say?” he asked after he finished the coconut milk.
“He said that making eye contact is appropriate behavior.”
“Did he say anything about rescuing me?”
“No,” I said. Dr. Rhodes has worked with me on learning to read expressions. Evan Collins’ mouth was turned down. His eyes were squeezed half closed. He did not look happy. “Do you want another coconut?” I asked.
THE MAN
Evan Collins watched the roach trundle off through the palms to find him a coconut. It had been all he could do not to scream at the roach, but he had managed it.
The painkillers left him groggy. He felt nauseous and thirsty, very thirsty. He knew he had to keep drinking. He had not had to urinate since he woke up on the beach the day before, an indication that he was not taking in enough fluid. Dehydration would kill him quicker than anything.
Life by the yard is hard, he told himself, but by the inch, it’s a cinch. To stay alive, he had to keep drinking, and he had to get help. And to get help, he needed to understand Annie the roach and Dr. Rhodes.
The roach dropped a coconut beside him, neatly pierced.
“Thank you,” Evan said carefully. The drink of coconut milk was helping, but he was still very thirsty. “It is good of you to bring me coconuts.”
“My mother says it is good to be helpful,” the roach said.
“I am very thirsty,” Evan told Annie. “I will die if I don’t have water to drink, if I don’t get a doctor for my leg.”
The roach watched him with its glittering eyes but said nothing.
“I wish I could meet you in person,” Evan said. If he could see her expression, he would have a hope of figuring her out.
The roach took a step back. A tiny bit of body language for him to interpret.
“You don’t want to meet me in person,” he said: “Okay, I understand. That’s perfectly normal.”
“I am not normal,” the roach told him.
The roach’s voice was mechanical and flat, as always. Without nuances of tone, he could not tell how she felt about this perception of abnormality. He had to plunge ahead blindly. He risked a question. “How is it that you are different?”
The roach was silent.
“I think you might be smarter than other people.” Never a bad idea to suggest a compliment, he figured.
“My father calls me the Little Professor.”
“It’s good to be smart,” he said.
“It’s inappropriate to be smart all the time,” the roach said.
Earlier, she had said that eye contact was appropriate. Annie wa
s very concerned about what was appropriate and what was inappropriate. Maybe rescue parties were inappropriate.
“How do you know that it’s inappropriate to be smart?” he asked her.
“Dr. Rhodes told me,” the roach said. “It’s inappropriate.”
He felt a little dizzy, a little feverish. “Is it wrong to be inappropriate?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the roach.
“Is it always wrong?”
“Tell me a story,” said the roach.
Too many questions, he thought. He had gotten carried away. She didn’t like questions. “All right,” he said. “Could I have another coconut first?”
The roach trudged off through the sand to get a coconut. It was a long time before it returned. He sipped the milk. He couldn’t drink it all right away. He needed to save some.
“Did you tell Dr. Rhodes that my leg is broken?” he asked the roach.
The roach took a step back. “Tell me a story.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. No more questions, he thought. Time for a story.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack who lived with his widowed mother. They were so poor that Jack’s mother sent Jack to the market to trade their milk cow for food.”
THE MECHANO
He was telling a story and that was good. I could pay attention to the story and not think about all his questions.
“Once upon a time …” The story was a fairy tale. A boy named Jack had traded a cow for a handful of beans, and his mother wasn’t happy, even though the old man had said that the beans were magic. Jack’s mother didn’t listen to Jack—she threw the beans out the window.
Jack’s mother was NT, I think—but Jack wasn’t. There must be some NT rule that Jack didn’t know about that said you shouldn’t trade a cow for beans. I filed that thought away—if I ever had a cow, it would be inappropriate to trade it for beans.
The next day, when a giant beanstalk grew up from the magic beans, Jack climbed it right away, without asking his mother if he could. That was inappropriate behavior. Dr. Rhodes says I should always ask my mother’s permission.
Jack found a castle that belonged to a giant. An old woman who lived in the castle hid Jack in an oven when the giant showed up.
I didn’t understand why the old woman hid Jack, but there’s so much about NT stories that I don’t understand. Maybe the old woman just wanted to be helpful. Anyway, the giant came home and got out a big bag of gold. The giant fell asleep, and Jack stole the gold. That was inappropriate. Dr. Rhodes says that it is appropriate to share, but it is inappropriate to take all of something even when someone offers to share. And the giant hadn’t even offered to share.
Jack climbed down the beanstalk and got home with the gold. Then he climbed the beanstalk again and stole the giant’s goose that laid golden eggs. Then he went back for a third time and stole the giant’s harp.
I was sure that Jack was not NT. He kept doing inappropriate things and he kept going back to the giant’s castle, a sign that he was perseverative.
The harp shouted when Jack was running away with it. When the giant chased Jack down the beanstalk, Jack chopped down the beanstalk and the giant fell to his death. I don’t know if that was appropriate behavior or not. The giant was trying to kill Jack, but I don’t know if Jack should have cut down the beanstalk.
Then the story was over. The man said he was thirsty, so I found him another coconut. It took a long time to find one, but I did. I brought it to him. Then I said, “Jack’s behavior was not appropriate. He shouldn’t have done those things.” I knew Dr. Rhodes would not like the things Jack did.
“I like Jack,” the man said. “He does very well for himself and his mother.”
I thought about it. I liked this story better than Cinderella. Cinderella was very good and very helpful, but the fairy godmother made her go to the party and then she had to marry the prince, rather than staying in the quiet kitchen alone. She was punished for following the NT rules. Well, if she was NT, maybe it wasn’t a punishment, but if she was like me, it sure was.
Jack broke lots of NT rules. He traded a cow for beans; he didn’t ask his mother if he could climb the beanstalk; he stole stuff from the giant. But he got to go home to his little room in the cottage. He didn’t have to go to a party or marry anyone.
I turned away, still thinking. It was time to talk to Dr. Rhodes.
“Annie,” said the man. “Tell Dr. Rhodes about me. Tell him I need help.”
DR. RHODES
“There is a man on my beach,” Annie said.
“A man,” Dr. Rhodes said. “That’s great.” He smiled. He had sent three e-mails to the man in charge of the Cook Islands mining operation, asking that he repair the cameras on Annie’s island. He had yet to receive a reply, but Annie’s mention of a man on the island meant that someone had been dispatched to repair the cameras at last. “He’s going to fix the cameras,” Dr. Rhodes said.
He knew that Annie did not respond well to change. Having a stranger on her island would be disruptive, and he needed to reassure her. “He will only be there for a short time,” he said.
“He needs help,” Annie said. “I tried to be helpful.”
“That’s all right,” Dr. Rhodes said in a reassuring tone. “He’ll fix the cameras and be on his way. You don’t need to help.”
“He says he needs help,” Annie said. “His name is Evan Collins and he needs help.” She was blinking rapidly. Clearly, the presence of this repairman on her island had upset her.
Dr. Rhodes was annoyed that the workman had engaged Annie in conversation, had told her that he needed help. Dr. Rhodes imagined the man—a semiskilled laborer, struggling with the cameras. Lazy, Dr. Rhodes suspected.
“Don’t worry about him,” Dr. Rhodes said firmly. “He’s not your concern.”
“He needs help,” she insisted in a loud voice. “He says he needs help.”
“I said that you don’t need to worry about him.”
“But the man …”
“Annie,” Dr. Rhodes said firmly, “you know that it is not appropriate to shout, don’t you?”
Annie did not say anything.
“Remember the deal we made when you signed up for this project? You will listen to me and do as I say. If you can’t do as I say, you won’t be able to continue with the project. Do you remember that?”
“I remember.” Her voice was low.
“The man is not your concern. He’ll fix the cameras, and he’ll be on his way. We have our own work to do. Today, we’re going to work on recognizing facial expressions.”
THE MECHANO
I returned to my tank. I slept through the night. I returned to my island and my mechano just before dawn on the island. I went to the beach, where the man named Evan Collins slept.
He was not my concern. That was what Dr. Rhodes said.
The water bottles were empty. There were no more coconuts—I knew that. I had looked for an hour the day before to find the last coconut.
The man’s breathing was shallow and uneven. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. He was covered with sand flea bites. Some of them were red and infected. The black scabs that covered the scrape on his legs were cracked, and flies had settled on them, feeding on the liquid that oozed from the cracks.
“Evan Collins,” I said.
He did not open his eyes.
“Dr. Rhodes says you are going to fix the cameras,” I said. “And then you’ll be on your way.”
Evan Collins did not move.
He was not my concern. I headed for the ocean. I had work to do.
But I stopped at the edge of the water. I circled back to stand beside Evan Collins. “Will you tell me a story?” I asked.
He did not move.
I went back to the recharging hut. I entered the hut. I shut down the mechano and I opened my eyes in my tank. I pushed the button to call the attendant, and I waited. Eventually, I heard the rattle and clank of the hatch. The hatch opened and I blin
ked in the glare.
I sat up when the hatch opened, staring at Kiri. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “Are you all right, Annie?”
“There is a problem,” I said, speaking loudly to be heard over the hum of the pumps. “There is a man on my beach. It is not good. His face is red and his face is black and the fleas are biting him. It is not good. He is on my beach and his leg is broken. He needs a doctor. It is not good.”
“A man on the beach,” Kiri repeated. She was frowning. According to Dr. Rhodes’ facial expression cards, that meant she was not happy. That was okay. I was not happy either.
“A man on my beach,” I said again. “It is not good. I try to be helpful. I help the crabs. But I can’t find any more coconuts. The man says he needs help. He says he needs medical help. He says he needs water.” I closed my eyes against the lights and begin to rock.
I was thinking about the man. I pictured a chart that listed all the people involved in this. There was Evan Collins, Dr. Rhodes, and me. There were lines drawn between the three of us, making a triangle. Then I added Kiri’s name to the chart and redrew the lines. There was a triangle with the man, Kiri, and me. Dr. Rhodes was off to one side.
“How did the man get to your beach?” Kiri asked.
“He has a boat that is underwater,” I said. “The fish swim past it.” I remember the boat, wedged between the coral heads. “It is cracked. It is not good.”
“I will call Dr. Rhodes,” Kiri said.
“No,” I said. “Dr. Rhodes does not …” I stopped, not knowing what to say. “You need to tell someone else,” I said. I was talking louder than I needed to.
I did not care. I was twelve years old and I cracked coconuts in my mandibles. I crawled on the ocean bottom and found gold in the rocks.
Dr. Rhodes would tell me that it was not appropriate to shout. I thought it was appropriate. There was a man named Evan Collins on my beach and it was appropriate to shout.
The Year's Best SF 22 # 2004 Page 3
