Planetfall by Emma Newman Page B

providers. What was it called . . . the worm that came out of the blister? A guinea worm! I had nightmares for weeks after he told me about that and refused to drink water from anything other than our house supply, which I knew was off-grid and filtered multiple times, even though we were living in France by then. I can hear his laughter when he realized I refused to drink the water from the table jug at one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris because I feared it contained larvae.
    â€œRenata—” My dad’s laugh made the people at the tables around us smile; it was the warmest, happiest sound of my childhood. “They eradicated the disease years ago. There haven’t been any reported cases for over two decades and even when it was widespread, they didn’t get it in Paris.”
    I must have been nine or ten. My feet only just touched the floor when seated in those restaurant chairs. He and my mother had split up by then.
    â€œBut what if someone kept a worm in a jar and forgot about it and tipped it down the toilet and then spread the eggs over the city and—”
    â€œWe don’t drink the same water we flush down the toilet. You know that. This is just a worry-thought, Ren. Remember what we said about worry-thoughts the other night?”
    I’m filled with a wrenching need to speak to him again, to hear his gentle voice. He knew just what to say to make me feel safe, not only from the external but also my internal world. Thatscared me more than anything, sometimes; the noise of my thoughts, the sense that even the space inside myself wasn’t safe.
    â€œRen?” Kay asks. “Are you okay?”
    I blink and realize there’s unread text in our chat window.
    Nomadic, as I thought, her message reads. You see this kind of hippocampal enlargement in people who have to remember details across large geographical areas.
    â€œSorry, I was miles away there.” I feel stupid. Kay is frowning at me, confused by my lack of interest. Usually I devour anything she sends my way.
    I realize that Sung-Soo’s hand is resting on mine. He’s looking up at me with the strangest expression and I have no idea what he’s thinking. “You’re missing someone,” he says.
    I pull away and shut down the shared scan results. “I need the . . . I won’t be a minute.”
    Once I’m locked in the bathroom, I put the lid of the toilet down and sit, hunched over, wrapping my arms about my body. Of course he knows how to recognize that. His father must have looked like I did, every fucking day.
    I pull up my sleeve and pinch my forearm, focusing on the pain from that until the urge to cry subsides. I will not lose control again today. I will not think of anything except making sure Sung-Soo is okay and that whatever is inside him isn’t a long-term threat to his health or anything that could cause a problem for us.
    I take a deep breath and flush the toilet for effect. I wash my hands for the same reason, but it also calms me. Then I go back to them.
    â€œCould you take a look at the first results through from the analyzer?” Kay asks and I nod. “Ren is faster than I am,” she explains to Sung-Soo.
    â€œAre you okay, Ren?” he asks and I nod, tired of the question.
    â€œI’m fine. Let me take a look at this stuff. I’ll just be sitting here, right next to you, okay?”
    I work on the data from his stool and urine samples first, concerned about whatever it is inside him. Between the data from the bacteria within it, the actual content of the stool itself, and the traces of indigenous DNA woven in with his blood sample, I manage to ascertain that, whatever it is, it’s not putting anything like eggs or anything reproductive into what he excretes. That could change, of course, but I’m still relieved nonetheless. It’s putting something into his blood though. I look at the scan and see the thing