Human Sister (4 page)

“Sara, can you hear me?” Casey said, his words concussive hoofbeats of sound.

Unfortunately, I thought—though I might have said it. My uncertainty as to whether or not I’d spoken startled me into clearer consciousness. I was determined not to speak a single word to that man.

“Those mechanical things your parents call ‘Sentirens’ certainly can’t be worth that, now can they? Look, here’s the deal: You tell me you saw them on your trip, just say yes, and I’ll unhook you from this machine and leave. Then you and Smith can hold hands, and you can talk with him instead of me. Now, say yes.”

I let his roar wash through me.

“Global 10,” Casey bellowed.

“Ten?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, ten. Sara, say yes. Just say yes, and you’ll be freed from this.”

The reignited pain was much stronger than before. Its screaming, blazing fury engulfed me. And more frightening than earlier came the feeling that my grip on everything, even on my resolve to protect Michael, was slipping away. Something in me I could no longer control seemed to agree with Casey that too much was being asked of me by Grandpa, and it, this wild self-preserving thing, nearly screamed Yes! But at that very moment, I was lifted, floating, then spiraling dizzyingly in flames, getting lighter, smaller, sputtering, disappearing like a drop of water on a hot skillet. Then, for a brief moment, I felt a glowing, almost joyous sense of relief at the rushing in of a hollow darkness.

 “Seventy-five over 40. She’s coming around. Thank God,” the doctor thundered.

My mind felt unmoored: Where am I? What happened?

“Eighty over 42. I swear I’m finished. I quit. You can take my license if you want. I’ll go bankrupt. I’ll go to jail. Anything—but I’ll never work with you people again. Never.”

“We’ll see how brave you are when you need your next fix,” Casey roared.

“I’m going straight from here to a clinic, just as my wife’s been—”

The doctor was interrupted by a tremendous banging and clanking of something on wheels coming through the door.

“That’s okay,” the doctor shouted. “I don’t think we’ll need it. Her heartbeat and breathing have resumed. Her blood pressure is rising steadily. Eighty-five over 45. Thank God.”

I wanted to open my eyes but found that even the tiniest slit let in blinding light. I decided to rest quietly and listen. Over the next few minutes, the doctor spoke with several people who noisily ran in and out of the room. From those conversations, I learned that he’d decided not to give me anything to counter the LN27Q3 because of possible cross-reactions. The drug would wear off on its own in about an hour.

The doctor took my hand in a grip from which I winced. “Sara? Are you conscious? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I whispered, wincing at the word’s sibilant ending.

“How do you feel?”

“Please—” Uh. That sibilating high-speed saw in my head.

“What?”

“Dim the lights.” I winced.
No more
s
’s
.

“Can we dim the lights?” he roared. “Is that better?”

I opened my eyes slightly and whispered, “Ja,” as Elio would have, thinking I’d never again utter the manic sibilance of
yes
, never again push tongue toward alveolar ridge and form that venomous sound.

“Would you like something else?”

Please speak softly
came to mind, but I replaced it with, “Talk quietly.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I’m sorry," he whispered in a whisper almost comical in its loudness. "Everyone, please, whisper. Her senses are painfully amplified.”

“Are you through?” I asked.

“Through for now,” Casey roared. “But next time you might not to be so lucky. We know you saw the Sentirens at Alberta Robotics. It’s against the law not to report a sighting.”

“May I go now?” I asked the doctor.

“I’d like to observe you until the drug wears off.”

“May I see… uh… have Elio and Grandpa come here?”

“They’re over in G,” Casey said. “I’ll go get them.”

After Casey left, the doctor whispered, “Sara, I’d like to ask you a few questions to determine whether you’re fully lucid. You don’t have to answer me, but”—he pursed his lips and frowned—“well, before you go I’d like to know you’re okay.”

Did something happen, I worried, to my mind? Did I say something? I didn’t. Did I?

And then I remembered: I had nearly failed, nearly succumbed to Casey and cried out Yes!

“What’s your address?” “How old are you?” “What’s 19 times 7?”… I answered each of his questions in turn, though with difficulty—I was so upset and ashamed at having nearly failed. Finally, he asked, “If it takes two government agents to plug in a light, how many does it take to protect us from the Chinese?”

“I think I’d need to know how many Chinese agents it takes to plug in a similar light,” I said, noticing that the “s” sounds were considerably less painful than before.

He smiled. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”

“I’d like to get dressed before Elio and Grandpa get here.”

“Yes, of course. Here, swing one leg over the edge first. That’s right.”

It was then I noticed I’d urinated on myself and on the table.

“Let me get you a towel,” the doctor said.

I laid my head back on the table while the doctor noisily gathered up some paper towels. “Gently,” I whispered as he began mopping up.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe I should try to use the shower before I dress.”

“Sure, I suppose. Let me call.”

Speaking toward the computer, he requested a shower. “And how about her clothes?”

“Can’t have ’em. Casey says they’re goin’ upstairs. Ditto the teleband, ring, transmitter, finger cast, luggage, the whole lot. Kiss ’em good-bye.”

“I have to have the ring,” I said, nearly in tears for the first time that day. Mom had told me, referring to the bimetallic ring she and Dad had given me, that I was the white platinum; Elio, the yellow gold.

The doctor shrugged. “At least you can wash off. I’ll give you my coat to wear afterward.”

I was carefully patting myself dry after a piercing shower when the door flew open and in ran Elio shouting, “Sara!”

I braced myself for a painful hug, but the doctor caught Elio’s arm and whispered, “Careful. Her senses are amplified to a painful degree.”

Elio scowled at the doctor, jerked his arm away, and walked toward me. His dark-chocolate eyes looked worried, but as he drew near, his rosy lips lit with a smile, and the crush of our kiss was full of love.

“What did they do to you?” he whispered, his eyes full of tears.

I seemed to be deliquescing into his lapis lazuli jacket, its azure sky filled with dark secrets and flecks of golden light.

“Sara, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I echoed, feeling dreamy.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

He turned to Grandpa, who’d been whispering with the doctor. “Grandpa?”

“I’ll see to it that beast is fired and never gets another government job,” Grandpa said.

His words shocked me out of a blissful torpor. “No! Grandpa, please, don’t. He said you’d never make it past level 3, that your heart would stop, and it would look like a natural death.”

Grandpa looked down at the floor. He appeared old, tired, and weak—an image deeply saddening to me. I loved him so much.

“Where are your clothes?” Elio asked. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m afraid they’re gone,” the doctor said. “To be analyzed molecule by molecule, I expect. She can have my coat.”

“No. She’ll wear my clothes,” Elio said. “I’ll wear the coat.”

“They took our ring,” I said.

“Our ring? Don’t worry. We’ll get another just like it. We’ll pick it out together.” He quickly took off his clothes, piling them on the exam table. Then, more slowly, he began helping me dress. “What happened to your leg?” he asked as he knelt to help me put my feet into the legs of his pants.

“Let me see,” Grandpa said, getting up and walking behind me.

“I was ordered to remove the transmitter,” the doctor said.

“For what reason?” Grandpa asked.

“Casey said it was illegally brought through Customs.”

“Illegally?”

“I guess there’s some law that says all implanted devices have to be declared.”

“Grandpa,” Elio said, “what did they do to Sara? Why is she shaking all over?”

“They gave her an experimental drug and then induced horrific pain.”

“What? Why would anyone do that to Sara?”

“They wanted her to tell them about androids in Canada, but she refused to say anything. Casey kept ordering greater and greater pain until her heart stopped.”

“Her heart stopped?”

“Only for a minute and thirty-three seconds,” the doctor interjected. “But it seemed like a decade while I was trying to revive her.”

“Grandpa?” Elio said.

“I’ve already placed a call in to Dr. Taranik at Stanford Medical Center. We’re old friends. I expect a callback soon. We’ll take her there as soon as she’s dressed and ready.”

By the time we were settled in a private room at the SMC, my hypersensitivity had diminished enough that I felt comfortable with normal light and sounds, but I still trembled uncontrollably and felt sick with exhaustion. Dr. Taranik was disinclined, even after completing extensive tests that showed not a trace of any known drug in my system, to prescribe something for either the trembling or the exhaustion. He said he had no idea what might react negatively with LN27Q3, a name not appearing in any databank accessible by him.

He told us that there didn’t appear to be any permanent heart or brain damage, though it was clear that my neurological system had been severely challenged. He said I should remain in the hospital overnight. We would just have to wait to see what the next day brought. In the meanwhile, I was to rest and avoid stimulation as much as possible.

When I woke the next morning, New Year’s morning, my trembling was gone, but I felt tired and sad and was unable to concentrate normally. Dr. Taranik said all of my tests looked good and predicted that I would wake up the next morning or the next and my depression also would be gone. I was released from the hospital in midafternoon.

A few days later, Elio returned to his classes at Stanford. He wanted to stay with me longer, but I told him I was feeling better and would be fine until he came back on the weekend. It was during this time that I first noticed Grandpa was working—in his Magnasea office in Berkeley, he said—many more days each week, and for hours longer each day, than I’d ever known him to work away from home. I also noticed that during the increasingly infrequent times he was with me, he remained unusually quiet. I asked him what was wrong.

“Nothing. I’m simply following doctor’s orders. You’re supposed to rest.”

“Grandpa, I love you. I hope you don’t blame yourself for what happened.”