by Amy Valenti
I was too busy kissing him back to protest. Maybe the medication wasn’t working as well as I thought yet.
Chapter Eight
As much as I hated to admit it, being away from Scott helped my self-control.
I’d left his place two hours later than I’d planned to, and by the time I’d reached my shared flat I was as calm as I’d ever been since the third-strikes treatment.
Talking about Aunt Leah had cast a dark shadow over my mind, though, and, as I went through the mundane tasks of sorting laundry and preparing my materials for the next day’s class, I let myself remember her easy smile, her reassuring squeezes of my shoulder, her intent expression when I used to pour out all my woes to her.
She’d vanished less than two months after she’d helped me to cheat the system. Every time I thought about it, my stomach seemed to twist with pain and guilt.
I missed her. I could have done with her reassurance about this nymphitis development—surely she could have come up with an explanation, something that could help the resistance movement?
Maybe they could find out something I couldn’t. Hadn’t Grant said they’d managed to hack into government records and find out Theresa had been killed?
Did I really want to know if she was dead? At least, while there was a chance she’d gone into hiding, I could hope for her to resurface at some point in the future.
I sighed, curling up on the bed and burying my face in my hands. “I miss you, Aunt Leah. What should I do?”
It was stupid to expect a response, but there had been times I’d had no idea she was there until she’d pulled me into a reassuring hug. I wished for that now—wished hard—but nothing happened. She was gone, and I didn’t know if she’d ever be back.
“Get it together, Holly.” I reached out for the pill bottle on the nightstand and held it up, studying the holo-label and the never-ending list of ingredients and side effects scrolling like movie credits over it. Maybe a swift onset of depression was one of them.
Oh, fuck it. Just take the damn pill.
Too lazy to get up for a glass of water, I swallowed it dry, grimacing at the bitter taste of powder coating my tongue. Then I flicked off my lamp, drawing my blanket around me like a shield against the world outside.
I missed Scott. Not with the deep ache of desire that would have been the case if Beth hadn’t intervened today, but with a pang of loneliness.
I’d found somewhere to belong—with my new lover and new friends, people who understood what I was going through. I didn’t want to wrench myself away from it, to come back here and make nice with my roommates and pretend I was the same as they were. I wanted to stay where I felt safe and protected—in Scott’s embrace, in a soundproofed building where society’s rules didn’t matter.
Dream on.
* * * *
“Okay, Holly. I’m sure this isn’t the first scan you’ve had, but I’ll go over it again. Keep as still as you can while the equipment does its work, and then we can look at the results together, okay?”
I nodded, shot a tiny, tremulous smile Beth’s way, then closed my eyes. I was scared—really scared. I didn’t know what to expect, or whether it would be apparent to any Focused doctors who might need to scan my brain in future. Sometimes, ignorance really could be bliss.
“Relax. We’re starting up in three…two…one…”
The thin, insignificant-looking panel whirred to life over my head, and a slight heat moved over my forehead as the process began. It was hard to come to terms with sometimes—that something so powerful could be housed in such a slim, fragile-looking casing. Then again, people once thought that way about computers, back when they used to be desktop-sized rather than the size of whole rooms. These days, the processors were the size of my pinkie fingernail.
Ah, progress. New miracles every day, and yet still never enough for the human race.
The scanner’s heat moved down over the bridge of my nose, then over my lips. Almost done.
I resisted the temptation to open my eyes and look at the holomap hovering above my head. It never made any sense to me while I was horizontal, anyway. No point confusing the scanner by moving.
A few more seconds ticked by—longer than usual. I wanted to ask Beth what the hold-up was, but I knew I’d only screw up the image. Instead, I took deep breaths and tried to keep calm.
“We’re done.”
Beth’s voice was soft, and I knew before I even sat up that something was badly wrong. I slid off the imaging bench, my body passing through the map of neural pathways through my brain. It didn’t need me anymore—it would stay that way until Beth wiped it.
“Is something…?”
The rest of the words died on my lips as I stared at the map of my brain. I’d stared at brain scan after brain scan since I’d found out I was resistant to hormone dams, but I’d never seen anything like this before.
“Beth?” My voice emerged high and frightened. “What’s going on in my brain?”
Beth came to my side, pulling on a glove loaded with sensors. “I don’t know. Yet. Give me a moment.”
I didn’t want to give her a moment. I wanted to stick my hands inside my head and claw out whatever was wrong. Failing that, I wanted to hide under the desk in the corner of the room, but I forced myself to stay rooted to the spot.
With deft motions of her gloved hand, Beth enlarged the image, then rotated and tilted the ghostly apparition that floated in front of us.
Want a bigger brain? We can help with that…
I stifled a hysterical giggle and stared at the mass of silvery-grey pixels in front of me. “Is that the hormone dam?”
“Not the standard one,” Beth murmured. “Did your aunt mention any specifics about your surgery? Anything at all?”
I scrambled to remember.
“No. She said something about substituting her reactions for mine…nothing more specific than that. All I know is that I woke up and the computer said the procedure was successful.” I bit my lip. “Sorry… I should have asked her more about it—I was just so glad, and then I had to go for my tattoos…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Beth leaned in for a better look at the holomap, reaching out to a point at the end of my brain-stem, where my spinal cord began. “This is something we don’t generally see in hormone dam placement. It’s usually used for serious injury holomap storage, only this is a little different. I’m not sure why, exactly.”
I explained about my riot injury, about the holomap I’d shown Scott, and Beth studied the implant thoughtfully. “I’ll need to pull this apart further and ask one of our tech guys what’s different. There’s something, but I can’t quite make it out. Leave it with me.”
As I watched, she zeroed in on the blackish-red masses clumped around my pituitary gland. They hadn’t been there the last time I’d been brain-scanned, so Aunt Leah must have put them there. “I didn’t see those during my post-strike-two examinations.”
“No… That certainly wouldn’t have slipped through the net.” She glanced at me, frowning. “Before Scott approached you, did you get headaches at all? Any signs that something wasn’t right?”
I shook my head.
“How about now? Apart from the hormonal surges—no migraines or vision problems?”
“No.”
Beth frowned, zooming in still further on the image. This close up, magnified several hundred times, the masses of bloody tissue turned my stomach, but I stared at them anyway. There, in the midst of all the flesh and blood vessels, was an odd, angular shape. Completely unnatural.
“Umm…Beth? Do you see this? What is it?”
“Ah,” she murmured, as if to herself. “That makes much more sense. I think you might have found the problem.”
Hope and trepidation mingled in my stomach. “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”
After one final look at my swollen pituitary gland and the artificial constructs surrounding it, she flicked her fingers at the images, then pulled off the glove and took the stora
ge card from the scanner. “I’ll take a closer look later. Come and sit down, Holly.”
Come and sit down? Who ever said that when the news was good? I perched on the edge of the imaging bench and Beth wheeled her chair over to sit opposite me.
“You’ve gone white as a sheet.” She reached out a hand to squeeze my shoulder, the gesture reminding me so much of my aunt that I almost burst into tears. “Oh, Holly, please don’t worry. We can fix this. It’s going to be tricky getting you in to see the right people, so you might have to wait a week or two, but we can reverse the damage. Really.”
I took hope from the reassurance and tried to suck it up, be a big girl and listen to my doctor’s orders. “I can take it. Just hit me with it.”
“It’s old tech.”
Of all the things I’d been expecting, that wasn’t one of them. “It’s what?”
“Old technology. From the early twenties, I think.”
I might have still been a med student, but that meant I remembered my medical history lessons. “The twenties. When nano treatments were only just starting to be phased into hospitals.”
Beth nodded. “But, Holly…it’s not nanotechnology. It’s made of the right materials, but it’s shaped like the old dams. You know the ones—the first few steps into hormone regulation science at the glandular level.”
Of course I did. I was planning to be a clinician when I qualified—to specialise in fitting the tech that wouldn’t take in my contrary brain. “But that stuff was phased out more than fifty years ago, right?”
”’Fraid so, kiddo.” Beth ran a hand through her cropped, blonde hair, frowning at nothing in particular. “It makes absolutely no sense, and there’s a reason why the tech was withdrawn. It didn’t work. The brain reacted badly to it, the glands in question got inflamed, and there’s just no reason why these would be in any clinic, or outside of a history museum.”
It was too much to comprehend. I burst into laughter. “I’m carrying medical relics in my brain? What the fuck?”
“Quite.” Beth gave a bemused smile. “I’m just as surprised as you are. I’ll look into it, make a few discreet calls. And we need to get that out of your brain before it actually damages anything. Right now, your hormone production is increased, which we already knew. Now we know why—the tech is so outdated there are no nanos in there to fight the inflammation.”
“Are the pills going to keep working?” I was afraid to ask, but I gritted out the words anyway.
“Keep taking them and they’ll keep you in check in the short term. When you have the operation, we’ll switch you to more targeted nano injections.”
I wasn’t squeamish, but the thought of needles in my already-injured brain made my stomach turn. “Okay. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I suppose.”
“Good girl.” She reached out and hugged me, surprising me. “Keep your cool out there, and we’ll get you through this. Okay?”
I nodded and got to my feet, a little unsteadily. “Beth? Did my aunt do this to me? Is it something she thought would help? Or did someone else do it?”
The sympathy in her expression brought a lump to my throat. “I don’t know, Holly. I really don’t know.”
Her comm unit beeped at her belt, and she pulled it from its pocket to examine the display. “We’re running out of time in here. You go first, and I’ll make sure the scan log is wiped.”
“Thanks,” I whispered to her, and fled.
Chapter Nine
I’d arranged to meet Scott at his place, and I took the train from the university to the nearest station in a numb kind of disbelief. The results of the scan were just too much for me to process. I didn’t even know what to think.
Aunt Leah, where are you? I could really use your help right now.
I felt more vulnerable than usual as I left the station, as though there was a neon sign blinking above my head, announcing to the world, ‘Archaic Tech Inside!’ I quickened my pace, shivering despite the sunshine, and tried to shake off the feeling that I was being watched by something much less benevolent than my aunt.
Scott answered my tentative knock on his door, and my world centred on him as he drew me inside the house. “Hi.”
”Hey.” He closed the door firmly behind us, then put his hands on my shoulders. “What’s the verdict?”
I just gave him the whole story straight. “Beth thinks I have antique tech in my head. It’s irritating my pituitary gland and triggering surplus hormones. I need surgery, but Beth says I’ll end up good as new. Or bad as new, since I still won’t be suppressed and will have to keep hiding it from the entire world.”
Scott crushed me to him in a hug, and I felt his sigh of relief against my hair. “See? It’s gonna be okay. We can fix you.”
“This calls for a celebration,” Grant decided from the doorway of the living room. Before I could greet him, he disappeared from sight. I heard the sound of a cupboard door being opened, and his voice floated in from the next room. “I’ll hug you when Scott’s done with you, Holly…”
“That’s assuming she’s gonna be clothed when I’m done with her,” Scott teased, and a bolt of lust sizzled down my spine. He ran his fingers across my jawline and I kissed him instinctively, almost moaning at the warmth of his lips against mine.
“Yeah, cause I really care if a chick’s naked.” Glasses clinked behind us and I heard the sound of pouring liquid. “Not that you’re just any chick, Holly.”
I broke off from Scott’s kiss, nuzzling his neck then allowing him to lead me through to the living room, where Grant was filling three shot glasses with Liquid Fire. “Still hinting at that threesome, Grant?” I teased.
“Any time, baby.” He winked at me, and Scott squeezed my ass, commanding my attention again.
“Your call, Holly. I’m more than happy with just you, but if you want Grant involved, I think I can handle him.”
“No one can handle me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “We get it. You’re hot stuff.”
“Damn right.”
Desire and relief mixed in my mind to form a heady hormonal cocktail, and I pulled Scott into another kiss. Beside us, Grant growled appreciatively, and when I drew back from Scott, he was right there next to us. His masculine scent was different to Scott’s, but just as enticing, and I couldn’t help but lean in and give him a light peck on the lips.
He licked my lower lip suggestively, and I was lost. While Scott pressed against my back, I wound my arms around Grant’s neck and kissed him heatedly. He didn’t set my entire body singing the way Scott did, but he was good. Really good.
Or maybe that was just the ultra-dose of hormones talking.
I eased back with an apologetic smile, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Sorry. I think I’m a little out of control, here.”
Grant stepped back immediately, exchanging nods with Scott, and I felt a pang of loss. The way I felt right now, I could happily have ripped both their clothes off, and I didn’t even know if it was my own reaction or down to my hormone imbalance.
“Scott,” I murmured, and he eased me down onto the couch, wrapping his arms protectively around me.
“I know. C’mon, calm down.”
I wriggled free, grabbed the shot of alcohol Grant had poured for me, and raised it in an ironic salute. “To being totally out of control.”
The spirits burned down my throat, and I sat back, watching Grant and Scott reach for their drinks. Scott caught my eye, holding up his glass. “To a solution to the problem.”
That was a more optimistic way to look at things, and I clinked my empty glass against his full one, then Grant’s. “Pretend I’ve drunk to that.”
Grant grinned, knocked back his shot and set about refilling our glasses. On my other side, Scott swallowed his own mouthful of Liquid Fire. “Are you sure getting Holly drunk is the best idea right now, Grant?”
“Can you think of a better time to get her drunk?” Grant rolled his eyes at me and I laughed, swept along by
his infectious enthusiasm.
“What, were you holding out for a threesome with Skye instead? We could call her,” I teased lightly.
Grant snorted.
“Grant and Skye don’t get along,” Scott said, running a hand through his hair a little uncomfortably.
“Really? What’s the story, Grant?” I asked.
“I dunno.” He shrugged and passed me another shot. “Bad break-up, I guess. She wanted to screw whoever she felt like, whenever the opportunity came up. I’m more of a monogamy kinda guy, with the exception of a few threesomes.”
“I’m sorry.” I hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories—but I guessed curiosity had killed more than a few cats.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, passing a glass across me to Scott, then picking up his own glass. “To more than one week of sex per year. Fuck that Focused bullshit.”
I could definitely agree with that sentiment. “Amen.”
“Uh-huh,” Scott agreed.
We drank. My mind spun—hormones or alcohol? I had no idea, and since I knew we were in a safe place I decided not to worry about it.
“Grant?”
“Holly?”
“Do you really wanna sleep with us?”
“You’re gorgeous. Scott’s not a bad lay.” His lascivious wink sent a flood of heat into my pussy, and I squirmed a little as Scott kissed my neck. “I don’t wanna take advantage of you if you’re nymphed up, though. You might regret it once your hormones are under control again.”
I didn’t want to hear that. “They are. The meds Beth gave me are working, and I’m doing okay.”
“Cool.” Grant looked over my head at Scott. “You know her better than I do. Your call whether she really is in control.”
I turned to him and he looked into my face as if searching for something. Then he said, “Okay, we can do this on one condition. Holly goes out to the coffee shop on the corner and gets us coffee. We take some time out and drink that first. That okay, Holly?”
I had no idea what his logic was, but it seemed a reasonable enough request. “Okay… What’s your poison?"