aside
when he put on the cymech."
"I would not be so quick to judge him."
"Believe me, all he has left are memories of
emotions. Memories fade."
"And this Arish, he is military?"
"Not officially, but he does odd jobs for them. The
kind of odd job he did on Flaco."
"Was he the man who pulled off your hand?"
The woman laughed. "No." The beach disappeared. I saw
Tamara at the airport, hurrying out of a black Mitsubishi
mini-shuttle, looking worriedly into the sky above her at an
incoming craft. Distracted, she slammed the shuttle door on her
hand, and tried to jerk free. She pulled her arm away with only a
bloody stump. She staggered off. Then the scene changed and I saw
Tamara, lying on the beach, with the ghost crabs eating her. "This
body’s worthless."
This incident frightened me. She should not have been
able to wipe the whole world off the monitor to show this single
memory. She was delving farther into her subconscious than was
safe.
"I must go now," I said. "I’ll need to get you some
more medications, to help prevent any brain damage. Will you wait
here for me?"
The dark creatures rose out of the sea and eyed me
again. She shrugged. "Yes. I guess."
I jacked out and unplugged her monitor. The sun was
rising, and because I had not slept much for two days and the
pharmacy wasn’t open, I decided to nap a few moments. I lay down on
the bed beside her and closed my eyes.
I awoke at three in the afternoon. Tamara was asleep,
lying beside me. I touched her forehead; her fever was very high.
On impulse I brushed her forehead with a kiss, then watched to see
if she would awaken. She didn’t.
I was glad, for as quickly as the impulse to kiss her
had come, I suddenly understood where I had seen her before: Her
thin body, so emaciated and small, was that of a stranger, but her
face—her nose, her eyes, and the curve of her lips—were those of my
dead wife, Elena.
In my mind I berated myself. I should have seen the
resemblance from the start, should have seen it after Elena had
haunted my dreams for the first time in twenty years. But when one
reaches my age, everyone appears familiar. Three times in my life
I’ve met men who could have been my twin; it was only a matter of
time before I met someone who looked like my wife, and I believed
that if I had been better prepared for the occasion, I wouldn’t
have succumbed to the temptation to take her in, wouldn’t have made
a fool of myself by becoming attracted to her.
I changed shirts and walked to Vasquez
Pharmaceuticals and bought some log-phase growth regulators and
antimosin C, paying in coin. While walking home, I took the time to
think. I had never confronted a problem that I couldn’t think my
way through, given enough time. I rehearsed the conversation I’d
had with Tamara, and realized her story didn’t quite fit right. If
Jafari was planning to imprison Tamara in a brain bag, he wouldn’t
need her body, except perhaps to sell, unless he was planning to
reunite her brain and body in the future. Did he hope to reunite
them when the situation calmed down? I wondered. Or would he just
hold her a few years and release her quietly? Whatever his plan, I
felt that I was on the right track. The fact that Tamara hadn’t
deduced Jafari’s plans hinted at her impulsiveness, or at an
unreasonable fear. I planned to tell her my theory when I got home,
but for the present my mind became occupied with planning our
escape. The whole trip to Vasquez Pharmaceuticals took several
hours.
When I returned home Tamara was sitting in the
kitchen, her head slumped on the table, her hand loosely wrapped
around a glass of ice water, her laser rifle on the floor next to
her. She mumbled in a foreign tongue. Her fever was very high. I
ran downstairs, brought up my medical supplies, and dumped them on
the table. I wanted to get the log-phases into Tamara as quickly as
possible, so I filled a syringe and shoved it into her carotid
artery. Her head snapped up and she looked
when he put on the cymech."
"I would not be so quick to judge him."
"Believe me, all he has left are memories of
emotions. Memories fade."
"And this Arish, he is military?"
"Not officially, but he does odd jobs for them. The
kind of odd job he did on Flaco."
"Was he the man who pulled off your hand?"
The woman laughed. "No." The beach disappeared. I saw
Tamara at the airport, hurrying out of a black Mitsubishi
mini-shuttle, looking worriedly into the sky above her at an
incoming craft. Distracted, she slammed the shuttle door on her
hand, and tried to jerk free. She pulled her arm away with only a
bloody stump. She staggered off. Then the scene changed and I saw
Tamara, lying on the beach, with the ghost crabs eating her. "This
body’s worthless."
This incident frightened me. She should not have been
able to wipe the whole world off the monitor to show this single
memory. She was delving farther into her subconscious than was
safe.
"I must go now," I said. "I’ll need to get you some
more medications, to help prevent any brain damage. Will you wait
here for me?"
The dark creatures rose out of the sea and eyed me
again. She shrugged. "Yes. I guess."
I jacked out and unplugged her monitor. The sun was
rising, and because I had not slept much for two days and the
pharmacy wasn’t open, I decided to nap a few moments. I lay down on
the bed beside her and closed my eyes.
I awoke at three in the afternoon. Tamara was asleep,
lying beside me. I touched her forehead; her fever was very high.
On impulse I brushed her forehead with a kiss, then watched to see
if she would awaken. She didn’t.
I was glad, for as quickly as the impulse to kiss her
had come, I suddenly understood where I had seen her before: Her
thin body, so emaciated and small, was that of a stranger, but her
face—her nose, her eyes, and the curve of her lips—were those of my
dead wife, Elena.
In my mind I berated myself. I should have seen the
resemblance from the start, should have seen it after Elena had
haunted my dreams for the first time in twenty years. But when one
reaches my age, everyone appears familiar. Three times in my life
I’ve met men who could have been my twin; it was only a matter of
time before I met someone who looked like my wife, and I believed
that if I had been better prepared for the occasion, I wouldn’t
have succumbed to the temptation to take her in, wouldn’t have made
a fool of myself by becoming attracted to her.
I changed shirts and walked to Vasquez
Pharmaceuticals and bought some log-phase growth regulators and
antimosin C, paying in coin. While walking home, I took the time to
think. I had never confronted a problem that I couldn’t think my
way through, given enough time. I rehearsed the conversation I’d
had with Tamara, and realized her story didn’t quite fit right. If
Jafari was planning to imprison Tamara in a brain bag, he wouldn’t
need her body, except perhaps to sell, unless he was planning to
reunite her brain and body in the future. Did he hope to reunite
them when the situation calmed down? I wondered. Or would he just
hold her a few years and release her quietly? Whatever his plan, I
felt that I was on the right track. The fact that Tamara hadn’t
deduced Jafari’s plans hinted at her impulsiveness, or at an
unreasonable fear. I planned to tell her my theory when I got home,
but for the present my mind became occupied with planning our
escape. The whole trip to Vasquez Pharmaceuticals took several
hours.
When I returned home Tamara was sitting in the
kitchen, her head slumped on the table, her hand loosely wrapped
around a glass of ice water, her laser rifle on the floor next to
her. She mumbled in a foreign tongue. Her fever was very high. I
ran downstairs, brought up my medical supplies, and dumped them on
the table. I wanted to get the log-phases into Tamara as quickly as
possible, so I filled a syringe and shoved it into her carotid
artery. Her head snapped up and she looked
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