Service Goat

by Piers Anthony

“I thought you'd never ask. It's true. The personnel are amazed. She had both eyeballs removed with no anesthesia at all. Just her hand on the back of the goat.”

  “Why didn't that make the national news?”

  “It's all private gossip. Not one of them will say a word outside.”

  “A conspiracy of silence?”

  “I'm not sure. They just don't seem to be interested in advertising it. They all like the girl—and the goat.”

  “This is weird.”

  “You bet.”

  “It seems that the goat is the anesthetic. Mind control?”

  “That would explain a lot.” She shrugged. “There's something else, almost as strange.”

  “Else?”

  “They visited the children's wards before they left the hospital. All the sick children got to pet the goat. And they're all doing better. The nurses are amazed. And none of them are saying a word outside the hospital. The administrators are in on it; they came and petted the goat too, and there's no report of anything about it. It's another conspiracy of silence.”

  “That is no ordinary goat,” he said as if just realizing it. “It must be of alien origin. But with powers like that, why is it messing with a blind little girl instead of conquering the world?”

  “That's why someone hired you to investigate.”

  “And my employers don't want to make any waves either.”

  “Because if that goat catches on that we're onto it, it could disappear, and no one would ever have proof of an alien invasion, or whatever.”

  “You got it. This is something big.”

  “I'm thrilled. I mean it; this is a meaningful event that nobody who is anybody knows about, but we know. We're important.”

  So Venus did have some ambition for status. “We're anonymous.”

  “Same thing, isn't it?”

  He laughed. “Maybe so. This gets curiouser and curiouser as we proceed.”

  She joined the laugh. “I love it. And you. What's next?”

  “We play it forward again. She went home with the doctor. We need to know more about that.”

  “We need to know more about everything.”

  She was really into this, and now she was helping him materially. He could never have interviewed the hospital personnel as quietly and efficiently as she had.

  He drew up to the house and parked. “I really appreciate what you're doing, Venus. It's not love, but it's a step closer.”

  “Great!” She flung her arms about him and kissed his ear. He liked that more than he cared to advertise. It was foolish, but he was indeed falling for her.

  Chapter 4: Doctor

  And so the pact was formed, mind to mind: they would work together. Now they had to get the girl out of the “car” and to others of her kind who could help her survive. For her savaged face needed special attention and soon, before the predatory micro organisms took it over and multiplied despite her body's defenses.

  First there was the constriction of the seat belt. Callie had to take her left hand and push the release mechanism. There. Then she had to crawl around the tree branch and out the window of the car. No, that remained jagged. She had to jam the car blanket around its edges as shielding. There. Then crawl. That remained awkward, so she needed to grab onto Nanny's horns so the goat could pull her out. There.

  They stood beside the wrecked car. Then they walked away from it, Nanny supporting the girl Now at last other natives arrived. First they checked the car, and shook their heads: nothing there to rescue. Nanny picked up on their discovery. They were EMT men—Emergency Medical Technicians, trained to get swiftly to injured folk and help them. That was exactly what was needed here.

  Then the EMTs spied the two standing a bit apart. They reoriented. Callie would have to explain to them about Nanny. Now that she was motivated to do it.

  *

  “Girl, you're a mess!” the man exclaimed. “We'll load you into the van and get you to the hospital pronto! We'll put your pet in a pen; she'll be safe enough there.”

  “No!” Callie exclaimed. “Nanny is my Service Animal. She has to stay close to me, always.”

  The man paused. “But she's a goat! A nanny goat.”

  “She's a Service Goat,” Callie said firmly. “They aren't just dogs, you know.”

  The man looked at his companion, who shrugged. “Maybe check her tag.”

  Oh-oh. Nanny had no identifying tag.

  /But it was all right. Let the man touch her. But a warning: it required focus and energy to make a significant contact with a person, as was the case with Callie herself. The number of such serious contacts was not unlimited, and during the initial phase the relationship with Callie would be diluted. She would be uncomfortable.

  Callie understood. They needed this man's help. Do it, she thought.

  Callie waited while the man reached down to find the tag that should be on a chain around the animal's neck. When he touched the fur of Nanny's neck, he paused again, feeling the frisson. The man was abruptly experiencing the larger nature of the goat, and it was awesome. At the same time, Callie felt some of her own pain of body and horror of blindness. Not nearly as bad as before, but an extremely unpleasant reminder.

  After a moment the discomfort passed and Callie felt good again. It was over.

  Then the man spoke. “It's all right. She's a Service Goat. She stays with the girl.”

  The touch had sufficed. Nanny had sent reassurance to him, as she could do when there was direct physical contact. When she was separated from a person, she could pick up that person's general mental state, but not affect it. The man was now satisfied that Nanny was legitimate. More than that, he wanted to help her and Callie in any way he could.

  The men laid down the ramp, and Callie and Nanny walked up it side by side. Callie was then strapped into a seat, and the men made an impromptu harness to hold Nanny in place, because the ride might be bumpy. Then one man drove while the other sat with them in back.

  “Now let's get acquainted,” the EMT man said in a friendly manner. He was wary of dealing with a child and animal; they could be difficult. “I'm Sam. Who are you?”

  “I'm Caladia Thomkins, Callie for short. This is Nanny.”

  “Hello, Callie. Hello Nanny.” He extended his hand, and Callie formally shook it. Then so did Nanny, touching his hand with a fore-hoof. Sam was not even surprised, at this point. He knew that Nanny was a very advanced service animal that could be trusted.

  But now was the time for business. “Callie, I have bad news for you.”

  “I know,” the girl said. “My folks are dead and I am blind. But I can handle it as long as I am with Nanny.”

  Sam was taken aback. “This is true, as far as I know, but I am surprised to hear you say it so sensibly.”

  “It's only because of Nanny. Without her I will collapse and die of pain and shock.”

  He nodded. “I understand, having felt her nature. Well, at the hospital you will have to separate, because they don't allow animals.”

  Callie knew what to do, though it would hurt terribly. “I will show you how it is with me without her. Take my hand again.”

  Sam took her hand. “Do it,” Callie told Nanny.

  Nanny withdrew her full support for a moment, while retaining the link with the man.

  Sam rocked back with a cry of agony. “I'm blind!”

  Then they were back to normal. “That's me, not you,” Callie said. “How I am without Nanny, feeling the pain and desolation. She's keeping me alive and sane.”

  Sam took several deep breaths. “This is no ordinary service animal, and I don't mean because she is a goat.”

  “She has unusual power,” Callie said. “When I'm touching her, she can feel my pain, and counter it, whether it's physical or mental. I need her support. Without it I will die.” She spoke with a conviction born of truth, and a clarity born of Nanny's buttressing of her mind. Nanny was fully sapient when in direct contact with a sapient mind, and Callie was essentially adult,
in this context. Together they were a remarkable team.

  “I believe it,” Sam said, shaken. “But there's going to be trouble. The hospital has strict rules. Only one of their doctors can make exceptions, and they're a hard-nosed lot.”

  “Can you help us?” Callie asked. “You know what's at stake. Their rules can kill me.”

  Sam considered, desperately seeking a way. “I can't help you there, but I know one of their doctors who maybe can. I'll ask for him to see to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I'll keep my mouth shut. I picked up on Nanny's full nature being secret, and I think I understand why.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sam brought out his cell phone. He identified himself, then said “This one's special. Have Doctor S meet us and take over.”

  There was evidently a protest at the other end.

  “Trust me,” Sam said with conviction. “Find him wherever he is and get him there immediately. I know what I'm doing.”

  The phone gave up, and Sam put it away. “He'll meet us at the emergency admission desk.” He looked at Nanny. “You know what to do. Same thing you did with me. But you're going to have to tell him more. He's no patsy.”

  “Thank you,” Callie said again.

  The vehicle drew into the hospital parking lot and stopped. The back door opened, showing emergency hospital personnel. Among them was a handsome middle aged man with iron gray hair. “Sam, this better not be a joke,” he said grimly. “I had to exit a staff meeting to get here.”

  “Doctor Stevenson,” Sam said immediately. “Take her hand.”

  They would have to do it again. They needed the support of the doctor.

  Callie braced herself and extended her free hand, keeping the other firmly on Nanny's shoulder. The doctor took it. And paused, assimilating a phenomenal input as Nanny gave him the pain and explanation. Callie hung on, feeling the pain of Nanny's divided attention.

  Then he spoke. “Thank you, Sam. You're right.” And to the emergency personnel: “Put them in Room 207. Both of them—the girl and the goat. Do not separate them. I will attend to the admittance procedure and be there shortly. Do not treat her without me. Only the basics: respiration, blood pressure, and a blood sample for analysis. No medication. The girl is my patient, and her service animal must remain in direct contact with her at all times.” He smiled briefly. “Doctor's orders.”

  The personnel did not question him despite the strangeness of his directive. They put Callie in a wheelchair and let Nanny walk beside her.

  Soon they were set up in a comfortable individual room, Callie in bed, Nanny standing beside it, the girl's hand on the goat's shoulder while they checked her breathing and blood pressure.

  “Does—does the goat need a—a sandbox?” a nurse asked hesitantly. This was plainly an unusual situation for them.

  Callie translated. “A place for you to pee and poop, Nanny.” It was her thought that counted more than her words.

  /Not yet. But in a few hours, after you have been treated, yes. Also some edible grain, when you eat.

  “Not yet,” Callie said. “Thank you.” She smiled. “She's housebroken.”

  The nurse smiled back. This was the children's ward, and though she suspected that Doctor Stevenson was not a pediatrician (she was able to get the term from her background memory; her mind was better than it had been), he had enough clout to take her on as a patient without being challenged. She knew already that this was good; Sam had known whom to go to.

  While they waited, Nanny assimilated from that enhanced mind the general doctor and hospital protocols. Once they were accomplished, Nanny would be able to relax somewhat, as the girl's pain would fade.

  The Doctor arrived. “Privacy, please,” he said tersely, and the nurses disappeared. He quickly checked Callie's face. “You will need immediate surgery to remove the remains of your eyes before complications set in. You know you will never see again, not on your own; this is simply to reduce discomfort and make you presentable, albeit with dark glasses.”

  “I know,” Callie said bravely.

  “You know that your parents are dead, and you are now an orphan with no feasible nearest of kin. The authorities will take over and administer their estate until you come of age to inherit it.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are seven years old. Yet you are able to cope.”

  “Nanny helps me cope,” Callie agreed.

  “That was my point. I am prescribing no pain medication. You have something phenomenally better. Now may I commune with Nanny?”

  Callie understood what he meant. He had touched the goat before, and discovered the power of her presence. They had to be open with him, so he could help them beyond the immediate medical crisis. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yes,” he replied seriously.

  “Yes,” she echoed, giving permission.

  Now he put his hand on the goat's back, beside Callie's hand. Mental communication was established. “What are you?” he demanded, verbalizing for focus as Callie did. “You are no ordinary farmyard goat despite your appearance. You have powers unknown to medical science. Can I trust you to truly see to this child's welfare?” He had evidently done some spot research in the interim, on Callie's background and on the local goats. That brief mental taste at the EMT vehicle had of course alerted him to Nanny's extraordinary nature, and to the need to keep it private.

  And Nanny gave it to him: her alien origin, her data recording mission, her reason to associate with Callie. The mutual need. The secrecy. Because this was a two way street; she had picked up on his general competence and sharp intellect. His interest in doing the right thing. He could be trusted, and they needed him. He was the most useful ally they were likely to find.

  “You made a deal with the child,” Dr. Stevenson said. “I respect that; it is fair to say that Callie survives her trauma because of you. Now you must make a deal with me: all your information for all my support. It is the only way you can avoid unkind discovery.”

  His accumulated medical background made it clear that he was correct. He was not threatening them, but summarizing the situation. They needed to commit completely to each other.

  Nanny made the deal.

  “We'll get you shored up, Callie. Then I will take you home with me.” Again that quirk of a smile. “The local orphanage would not understand about Nanny, and we don't want to make them understand. With luck and endeavor we may be able to keep the secret, at least for six months.”

  Then he was gone, and the staff found them food and a sandbox. It looked more convenient than the bedpan Callie was stuck with. They ate, and napped.

  The Doctor returned. “Melinda—that's my wife—says okay. I knew she would. She likes children and animals, and she's a science fiction buff. You will get along. Tomorrow the surgery, and to your new home the day after.”

  “Great, Doctor Stevenson,” Callie said, relieved. Nanny kept her emotionally and physically balanced, but couldn't do it indefinitely; she would need to rest at some point.

  “Call me Sterling; we will surely be friends.” He glanced at Nanny. “There will be the bureaucracy to wrestle with; I can handle most of it, but at some point we may need to persuade a key official. You will need to touch him, to satisfy him that all is in order. That a service goat may be unusual, but not impossible. After all, there are service monkeys and service horses; it's not limited to dogs. That will be all he needs to know of your nature: that you are finely trained and competent. That there is no reason for further investigation.”

  “He will know that,” Callie answered for Nanny. “And no more.”

  “One thing,” Sterling said. “Service dogs are working dogs; they are not supposed to be petted while on the job. But I wonder whether there should be an exception in this case, because--”

  “Because petting is touching!” Callie exclaimed, seeing it. “And anybody who touches Nanny will know right away she's just a regular goat, only trained to be a companion.�
�� Which was the convenient lie.

  “That is my thought,” Sterling agreed. “But once the sick children here get word she's like a pet, they'll swarm you. There will be no need to commune thoroughly, but a trace of good feeling will be in order.” He understood that full communion was a burden, but incidental feeling could be managed.

  “And then everyone will know Nanny's okay,” Callie said. Then she thought of another aspect. “And that they don't need to pet her more than once, because she is a service animal.”

  “It's clear that there's nothing wrong with your mind,” Sterling agreed. “But it will probably be best if anyone who doesn't have a need-to-know does not catch on that you can actually see through her eyes. You need to be the blind girl throughout.”

  Callie hadn't thought of that. If they knew she could do that, the whole world will swoop in to find out more, and secrets would become impossible. “Yes, I will be the blind girl,” she agreed.

  The Doctor was already demonstrating his value as an ally, because Nanny hadn't thought of that aspect either. There were still pitfalls to navigate.

  They had a good night's sleep, thanks to Nanny's continuing emotional support. Nanny needed the rest as much as Callie did, having emotively touched three people in short order. That had drained her, but Callie's sleep allowed her to recover.

  In the morning they skipped breakfast and went to the lab for surgery. A number of people they passed were openly startled, especially the children. “She's a Service Goat,” the attending nurse explained. “Yes, you may pet her.” That much had been explained to the nurse: that this animal liked the attention.

  Their progress was delayed while several children and some adults petted Nanny. But each one quickly cleared out, not realizing that along with the satisfaction of the touch had come a directive to move on. Callie suffered no split-focus pangs; this was incidental contact.

  The surgeon was amazed. “No anesthetic? This work is necessary, but it's hardly painless.”

  Sterling was there. “She has the anesthetic she requires. Just let her hold on to her service goat and she will endure.” He did not want to risk the chance of the anesthetic interfering with Nanny's control; that could be disaster.