Service Goat

by Piers Anthony

  And so it was. Callie had her eyes and optic nerves cut out and cauterized without flinching. She did feel the pain, but it was distant and mild and necessary.

  Then, her eye sockets bandaged, she was wheeled away, still holding on to Nanny, leaving the surgeon bemused.

  Because she had no general anesthesia to clear her system, Callie was able to remain active that day. In the afternoon she and Nanny visited several children's wards. Not only did the children delight in the petting visit, they seemed to have a general improvement in their moods. The nurses marveled, thinking it was only the joy of the unusual visit. None of them had any further curiosity about the phenomenon.

  Chapter 5: Ceremony

  The girl Caladia returned to school, the second grade, with dark glasses covering her bandages. It was surprisingly prompt. The goat went with her. They seemed to have the same effect on the children and teachers as they had at the hospital, with all of them quickly joining the silence beyond the school. The goat had to be responsible.

  Now the evidence grew that the girl, despite lacking any eyes at all, could indeed see. Just by touching the goat. She had to be seeing through the goat's eyes.

  “That's another weirdie,” Venus said.

  “And of course there's nothing in the official reports,” Ben said. “It's just one big school secret that no one will tell outside. Just that there's a child with a nice Service Goat.”

  “As alien monsters go, this isn't much,” Venus said.

  “I'm not earning my pay. What little I have on this doesn't even satisfy me, let alone my employer. I'm spinning my wheels.”

  “I could try to infiltrate the school, get a close-up gander at that goat.”

  “No. Not only would it put you at risk of discovery, I don't think you should touch that goat.”

  “Why not?” She smiled, as she did often now, without artifice. “Everyone else does.”

  “And everyone else joins the conspiracy of silence. I don't want you risking that mind control.”

  “What else can we do? We're stalled here.”

  “A lot of investigation consists of simply biding one's time, waiting for the key clue, which can occur purely by chance. And research. You never know what may be relevant. It's time to do our homework.”

  She frowned. Patience was not her strong suit, any more than homework. “Which is?”

  “Studying about Service Animals. I think I already know most of it, because I've seen them in action, but I need to be sure.”

  “I hate studying. That's one reason I ran away from home.”

  Neither was discipline her suit, but she would have to learn it. “I'm an investigator, on a mission. You can help, or get out of my way.”

  She pouted. “You drive a hard bargain. How about a kiss for every five minutes I stay with it?”

  “How about strip poker while we're at it?” he snapped. “This isn't a joke. I'm trying to do a job here.”

  Venus shrank back, hurt. She might be exaggerating, but it got to him, as she surely intended. He had to make it right.

  “Compromise. You read the material and phrase it as questions. When I get it right, we move on to the next.”

  “And when you get it wrong?”

  “One of us will remove an item of clothing. We'll alternate.” Because she wanted to get them both naked.

  “And when the clothing is gone?”

  “We start the kissing. Your way.”

  She nodded. “Deal.” Her way was emphatically seductive, and naked would be deadly; they'd soon be in bed. He simply needed to get the material covered before that happened.

  They got on it. He had downloaded an essay on Service Dog Requirements. He wanted to see how close the Goat was to such a Dog.

  “Temperament,” she read. “People oriented. But not overly friendly. Yes or no?”

  Ben considered. The giveaway was “overly.” Police dogs, seeing-eye dogs, hearing-ear dogs, low blood pressure sensing dogs, and all, had to be able to handle people, but couldn't afford to be distracted by every passing person. “Yes. Tolerant but not too much.”

  Her frown was not sincere; she knew she'd get her chances. “Right. Next is Work Ethic. Must be always alert, primarily loyal to the person being served. If there were a fire in a theater, the dog will get the dog and owner out first. Yes?”

  The dog had to orient first on the person it served; others could take care of themselves. “Yes.”

  “Right. Medical Environment. Service Dogs are unexpected by most people in doctors' offices and hospital emergency rooms, but Federal Law states that a Service Dog can go anywhere that has access to the public. Yes?”

  Anywhere? That was a stretch. “No.”

  Venus smiled. “Gotcha. The law says anywhere.” She removed her shirt, exposing her well filled bra.

  “Damn.” But she knew it was a token protest; he loved seeing her body, whatever the pretext.

  “The Americans With Disabilities Act—the ADA—is written to include many types of Service Animal, even including other species besides canines. Yes?”

  This was interesting. “Does it identify the animals?”

  She perused the text. “Not in this article. I think they mean horses, or monkeys, or maybe comfort animals like friendly cats.”

  “So it could include a Service Goat.”

  “I guess. But you didn't answer the question.”

  “I'm saying yes.”

  “Right. Next one: The Service Dog has to be able to handle restaurants and other places of business, where there can be stairs, escalators, and elevators. Which one of these must be avoided?”

  “The elevator. The dog won't want to risk them getting trapped in a moving box that might get stuck between floors.”

  “Wrong. It's the escalator. Those moving stairs can catch and trap the paws of a Service Dog. So the animal has to stay clear of them for its own safety. Take off your shirt.”

  Ben obliged. This was turning out to be more interesting than he had expected, apart from the strip tease.

  “Grocery stores have to accept Service Dogs also. The dog has to ignore enticing food smells and STAY ON TASK with its person. People there will want to ask questions and pet the Service Dog, especially if they have children. Okay?”

  “Questions, yes. Petting, no. Explain that this is a working dog, not just a pet.”

  “Right.” But she was thoughtful. “That goat gets petted all the time, and doesn't mind being mobbed.”

  “And she's not a Comfort Animal. She's enabling the girl to be fully functional. So that's a significant difference.”

  “We're getting there,” Venus said. “You know, I'm actually finding this interesting.”

  “So am I,” Ben said, staring into her bra.

  She laughed, which animated the contents of the bra, and resumed reading. “The Service Dog must understand about crutches, which may look like a weapon. Same for a cane.”

  “Sure.”

  They continued, and did manage to complete the material before running out of clothing. Which was just as well, because by then they were more than ready for the Kissing Stage.

  Still, the investigation was on hold until they found a better way to score on the Goat without exposing their effort.

  “I'm going batty here, no offense,” Venus complained. “Catering to you is fine, but I can't risk being seen in public. I can't go out and paint the town. With the investigation stalled, I need something to take my attention.”

  She had a case. Was there any way to make her satisfied with her unavoidable social confinement? “What would you like to do?”

  “Apart from marrying you? Not much.”

  Damn; he had walked into that one. Still, maybe there was an avenue. “You know we can't do it legally; you have no legal existence, and don't want it.”

  “I know,” she said sadly. “Unless your employer means it about squaring both our records, which I think is a long shot. You're great, Ben. I just wish--” She shrugged. “I don't k
now if what I wish is remotely possible.”

  “But we could marry unofficially.”

  She caught on immediately. “Our own little ceremony! Just the two of us. You'd do that?”

  “Yes, I believe I would, to keep you happy.”

  “Only me?”

  “Me too,” he agreed.

  She smiled. “But it wouldn't be real.”

  “It will be real to us. Isn't that what counts? The personal commitment?”

  “And if you make it, you'll honor it.”

  “Yes. I think we have reached that stage.”

  She became radiant. “Yes! We'll speak our own lines, as they do in that pacifist religion.”

  “The Quakers. Yes.”

  “And I can wear a bridal gown.”

  “I'll rent one your size.”

  “And I'll bake a cake. I'm learning how.”

  “I'll buy candles.”

  “No, that's for birthdays. This needs a little bride & groom figurine.”

  “No candles,” he agreed.

  They did it. The preparations took several days, but Venus was thrilled with every detail, and actually he was into the spirit of it too. They set it up in the living room, facing a picture of Niagara Falls, and took turns speaking their lines.

  “I, Benjamin Hemoth, take thee, Venus Intra, to be my informally wedded wife, to have and to hold...”

  “I, Venus Intra, take thee, Benjamin Hemoth, to be my informally wedded husband, to have and hold in bed..”

  It got hard to continue, because they were both laughing. But beneath the humor was a desperate seriousness. They were indeed committing to each other, for as long as their association endured.

  But how were they ever going to fathom the mysteries of the Goat?

  Chapter 6: School

  The following day Sterling took them to his home in the suburb, where his wife Melinda, at first a bit cautious, soon became a friend. Her iron gray hair exactly matched her husband's, and she was as handsome as he, in her way. “This much you must know, in fairness, Lin,” Sterling told her. “The goat has a kind of shared empathy that makes folk like her. She is unusual.”

  “I know,” Linda said. “She just told me. I will not betray her confidence.”

  So the Doctor had not told her, but Nanny had found her worthy. Callie knew she would like this family. Indeed, the hugs were frequent. These were people that Callie and Nanny would have liked quite apart from their need of a refuge, and it seemed that the two of them were folk that Sterling and Melinda would have liked regardless.

  It turned out that the doctor and his wife had wanted to have children and pets of their own, but their careers, his as a doctor, hers as a nurse practitioner, and their poverty during their early training, had not allowed the leeway. Now they could afford a family, but were beyond the age.

  Callie and Nanny became that family and pet. This was not the goat's doing; they just fit. Callie would never have sacrificed her original family, had she had any choice, but she realized that she was at least as well off here as she had been before.

  Her convalescence over, Callie had to return to school. Fortunately it was a magnet school, with children from the whole area, so she didn't have to change to a new one. It was just that now she would be personally driven there, instead to taking the school bus, because of her injury and her companion. The school administrators thought that a goat on a school bus would be disruptive. They were surely correct.

  Melinda drove them to the school on the first day of Callie's return, and conducted them inside. The skids had been greased, as it were, and there were no unreasonable challenges. Callie was checked in, and then they went to her second grade homeroom.

  The homeroom teacher, Isabel Gentry, had of course been briefed, but she was a tough minded woman who would not have allowed any kind of animal in her classroom had she not been under orders. As it was, she was plainly expecting mischief. That was unfortunate, because she was actually an innovative teacher with a liberal philosophy of education. She managed to include intriguing bits of a wide range of readings that turned the children on, and those who passed through her class emerged with a lifelong appreciation of literature. Callie had been fortunate to be in her class, and was fortunate to be able to return to it.

  “Nanny Goat is friendly,” Melinda told the teacher, tackling the problem head-on. “Perhaps you will want to have Callie do a class report of her experience, and how she came to acquire a Service Animal.”

  “I will do that,” Miss Isabel said, rising to the challenge.

  “Unlike other Service Animals, Nanny can be petted,” Melinda continued. “Try it.”

  The teacher grimly extended her hand and tapped the goat's back. At which point the grimness vanished. “Yes indeed,” she said with much greater enthusiasm. Linda realized that Nanny had given her not just an I'm okay signal, but a full mental/emotional connection. She must have recognized Miss Isabel as a potential key asset. That was a surprise, but a nice one.

  Callie and Nanny stood before the assembled class. Callie had been shy in her prior life, but was shy no longer. “This is Nanny Goat,” she said. “I must hold on to her because I got hurt and am still recovering.” She touched her dark glasses meaningfully. “She guides me so I don't get lost and don't bang into things or fall. That's why I keep my hand always on her. She's my Service Goat. That's like a Service Dog or a Seeing-Eye Dog. Once I finish my talk, you may come up and pet her; she's friendly.”

  There had been some tittering as they took the stage, but now the interest of a friendly pet in the classroom compelled more specific interest. Callie had their full attention.

  “Nanny won't pay you much notice, because she's focusing mainly on helping me, but she knows you're there. She likes kids, being a goat herself.” She smiled; the children of goats were kids. “And if some bully tries to do something bad, she'll ram her horns up his--” She glanced at the teacher. “Butt I won't say that.” Nanny made a little butting motion with her head.

  There was a laugh. The kids loved getting away with bad words, and butting a bully wasn't bad either. Melinda had faded back against the wall, not leaving until she was sure Callie was re-established, just as a real mother would. She allowed a trace of a smile as she saw how well it was going.

  Now Callie got serious. “We were driving home, but got caught in the bad storm. This tornado took hold of us and tossed us into a tree. My folks were killed, and a branch ripped through the car window and took out my eyes. I can show you if you want.” She touched her dark glasses.

  “Show us!” the children chorused happily.

  Miss Isabel opened her mouth to forbid it, but Callie took them off before she could speak. She flashed the class with her bandages. “Maybe once the band-aids come off, I can really freak you out with my empty eyeball sockets.” She had faked them out.

  “Meanwhile Nanny was lost in the storm too, and needed to be with someone. So she found me and helped me get out of the wrecked car, and stood by me until the EMT folk came. Being with her really helped me, and I guess maybe I helped her too, so now we're together, and she's my Service Goat. Now you can come up one by one and meet her.”

  Of course the children didn't take proper turns; they swarmed to the front, each wanting to be the first to touch the goat. Nanny tolerated this, and the children quickly returned to their desks with mildly awed expressions. Now they knew not only that the goat was for real, but that they wanted to help her in any way they could. A Service Goat made perfect sense.

  Melinda nodded, and quietly departed, satisfied. She knew what the others did not: that Nanny had given Callie not only stability, but amplified her intelligence and poise so that she could handle a situation like this. Now the whole class was on her side.

  That was important, because the whole class's support became vital. They were practicing reading, learning new words, slowly improving their skill. But Callie had no eyes. How could she read?

  “Callie, you may listen,” Miss I
sabel said. “You can hear what the others read aloud. You will need to have a good memory, however.”

  But Callie had another notion. “Please, it's a secret. But I can read, I think.”

  The teacher smiled tolerantly. “You do have your class reading book on your desk. However--”

  Callie opened the book and angled it so that the printed pages faced Nanny's nearer eye. The goat could not focus the way a person could, but she could do a lot with a single eye. She could discern the print.

  “This is the story of a boy named Dirk and a girl named Jayne,” she read. “Dirk and Jayne are friends.”

  The whole class laughed.

  “We all have pretty much memorized the opening sentences of the book,” Miss Isabel said. “But can you read this?” She started printing on the blackboard with chalk.

  Callie and Nanny oriented on the board. “When in the course of human events it becomes ness—necessary for one people to dissolve the poli—political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the Powers of the earth--”

  Now there was no laughter. “You can't have memorized the Declaration of Independence!” the teacher said sternly.

  “No, ma'am, I didn't. But I can read it, except for the bigger words. Nanny helps me, but she doesn't know all the words either.”

  Miss Isabel pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I believe this will be our little secret, our class's secret,” she said, her gaze challenging the other children. Not one of them protested. Then she dropped the matter. After that Callie took her turns reading in the normal manner, being one of the group. They all acted as if this were perfectly normal.

  In the following days, Callie became a star in class. She could see the teacher and the blackboard through Nanny's eyes, and was lightning quick to assimilate and answer all questions. She had been a mediocre student, but Nanny enabled her to organize her thoughts and memories more efficiently.

  It was good for Nanny, too, because her mission was to gather information, and now it was being fed to her in a trough. She was learning all about the activities of the human species, filling her data banks.