Analog Science Fiction and Fact 12/01/10

by Dell Magazines

He tossed and turned much of the night, and got up very early. He felt both tired and abused. The zoo is an educational institution and not a circus freak-show. It should not be exhibiting non-existing animals. He went to his computer and brought up the UPL website. Damned publicity stunt. Probably for a movie or something. Roger emailed UPL with a demand that they tell their mysterious client to get their freaks out of his zoo.

  When, later that morning, Roger dropped in on Angelina in her office, he found that she’d phoned just about every animal organization in creation, trying to track down both bunyips and who could possibly have sent them to her zoo.

  She looked up from her desk at him. “What the hell are you smiling about?”

  “Not in a particularly good mood this morning,” said Roger, “are we?”

  An e-mail notification tone issued from her computer. Roger watched as, with a growl not unlike those he’d heard earlier on his rounds, she turned to the monitor.

  After a few seconds, “Wrong zoo!” Angelina barked out. “Listen to this.” She glared at the monitor. “Sorry. Bunyips delivered to wrong zoo. Will pick up the animals in two weeks. Soonest we can come. Would appreciate if you could keep the animals until then. Feel free to exhibit them. They like visitors.” She threw a glance to the ceiling. “Sheesh!”

  “Well, they do like visitors,” said Roger. “They’ve been here less than a day and already visitors are lining up to see them.” He suppressed his smile this time. It seemed that his screaming at Unique Pet Labs had worked.

  “Two weeks,” said Angelina with a long breath. “Fine! But whoever’s behind this’ll certainly get a piece of my mind when they come to pick up the animals.”

  Roger told her about Unique Pet Labs.

  “So that’s what this is about.” Angelina shook her head.

  “I think maybe we should take them off exhibit,” said Roger, softly.

  “What?”

  “I sort of have ethical qualms about exhibiting a non-existent species.” Roger glanced out the window at the bunyip enclosure. “And anyway, why should we help with some publicity stunt?”

  “Because it’ll make money for the zoo,” said Angelina. “That’s why.” She followed his glance. “As long as there aren’t any hidden costs in exhibiting them.”

  “The bunyips aren’t a problem,” said Roger, transferring his gaze to Angelina. “They’re easy to care for and interesting to watch—although they don’t seem particularly intelligent. And my dog seems to provide all the enrichment they need.”

  Just then, Sniffles, off in the enclosure with the bunyips, barked. Angelina, as usual, jumped. Then came a few more barks—one on top of the other.

  “The bunyips have gotten barking down pretty well,” said Roger. “Don’t you think?”

  “Get out!”

  Two weeks later, Roger found himself in a sad, pensive mood as he leaned on the railing in front of the bunyip enclosure. His eyes found the exhibit sign.

  Bunyips (Twerx and Korfen)

  Engineered in Australia (we think)

  (Temporary Exhibit)

  Tempora ry Exhibit. Roger knew that, any day now, UPL would come and take them away. He knew he’d miss these strange mammals with opposable thumbs and their storklike kneecaps. Not that they seemed particularly strange anymore. He’d spent a lot of time in with Sniffles and the bunyips—ostensibly studying them. And they now seemed no more unusual than any other of his charges—except they were much more social and friendly than most. When they’d first come, he’d spent time speculating on from what genetic forebears these creatures had sprung, but not any more. Now they were just his bunyips.

  The bunyips, for their part, seemed delighted to observe the zoo visitors who were observing them. Roger smiled, sadly, thinking of how he’d found it hard to keep on his guard while with the bunyips. He’d been glad he had Sniffles whom he could rely on to protect him. And, of course, there’d never been any instance where he might have needed protection. He watched as Sniffles and the bunyips played. Sniffles will miss them as well.

  His eye caught another exhibit sign on the harp-wire, one of Sergei’s “leetle jokes,” no doubt.

  Man (“Roger”)

  Homo sapiens custodis

  (The dog’s zookeeper)

  Yes, I have spent a lot of my time of late in with the bunyips—too much, probably.

  Twerx came up to the wire and looked through with deep, lemur-eyes.

  “I’m sad,” said Roger, staring back at his animal friend, “that you’ll be going home soon—wherever home might be.”

  Korfen came up and stood beside Twerx. The two bunyips stood gazing at Roger.

  Roger gazed back. “I hope you’ve been happy here.”

  “Actually, Roger,” said Twerx, “we’ve been very happy here.”

  “What?” Roger squeaked, about ready to jump out of his skin and pushing himself back from the railing.

  “Oh, we’re sorry,” said Korfen. “We hope it’s all right to call you Roger.”

  Roger felt his mouth drop open and no words came out. They’re mimics. This must be one of Sergei’s “leetle” jokes. “It’s ... it’s fine,” he managed. But they’re speaking with Australian accents. Sergei couldn’t have done that.

  Roger drew closer to the railing. Or maybe I’ve been hallucinating. Maybe I shouldn’t have tasted that Bunyip Chow. Yeah, that must be it. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his brain.

  “Excuse me,” said a bunyip. Roger snapped open his eyes. “But perhaps you could take us to your director.”

  “Uh,” said Roger.

  “Or just as well,” said the other bunyip, Twerx, “offer the director our compliments and request that he visit us.”

  “She,” Roger muttered, numbly. “I’ll ... I’ll go get her.” He turned, paused, and turned back to the bunyips. “But what about Unique Pet Labs?”

  “About what?” said Korfen.

  “Do you mean pet Labrador Retrievers?” said Twerx.

  I’ll ... I’ll get the director. The guys at Unique Pet Labs must think I’m a raving maniac.

  “Look,” said Angelina, as Roger urged her toward the bunyip enclosure, “Just what is this big emergency?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You yank me out of my office for some big catastrophe.” Angelina glanced around. “But everything looks fine to me. So, what is it?”

  “Well,” said Roger, looking over his shoulder at the director. “Maybe it’s not exactly an emergency.”

  Angelina stopped on the spot. “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “You won’t believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  Roger glanced over at the enclosure. The bunyips were again playing with Sniffles. “You’ll see soon enough.” I hope.

  “Roger. This had better be good.”

  “It will be.” I hope. “Come up to the railing.”

  “All right. Fine.” Angelina joined Roger at the railing of the enclosure. “Now what?” she said in a voice both bored and angry.

  The bunyips padded up to the harp-wire and stared through.

  “Well,” said Roger to the bunyips, feeling very stupid, and again entertaining the thought that somehow Sergei was behind this all. “This is Director Grouss.”

  Angelina gave Roger a look saying quite clearly that she thought he was nuts.

  “We are very pleased to meet you,” said Twerx.

  From the corner of his eye, Roger saw Angelina go bug-eyed. Her mouth dropped open as if her nose had just become useless for breathing. “Told you so,” he whispered, mightily relieved that the bunyips had spoken again—proving he hadn’t lost his mind.

  Angelina grabbed onto the railing. It looked to Roger as if she were about to faint. “But ... I thought ...”

  “I was wrong about Unique Pet Labs,” Roger whispered.

  Korfen put a hand down and patted Sniffles. Roger almost felt as if his dog were now theirs.

  “One of your Earth philosophers, Mr. Mohandas Gandhi,�
�� said Twerx, “wrote that the greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”

  “And so,” said Korfen, “to both observe your species up close, and to apply Gandhi’s prescription, we—” “Earth philosophers?” Roger abruptly shifted his attention from Angelina as Twerx’s words registered. “Are you saying you’re not from Earth?”

  “Yes,” said Korfen.

  “No,” said Twerx at about the same time. “I mean that we used Earth DNA to synthesize these bodies.”

  “Why?” Angelina managed to utter at a whisper—more a global question than a specific.

  “We’d wanted to build an appealing body,” said Korfen. “Appealing to humans, that is. And with an anatomy that could talk nicely. We wanted to try it out in a zoo.”

  “We were afraid you might find our form as ugly as we find yours,” said Twerx. “Nothing personal, of course. No offense intended.”

  Angelina gave a weak shake of her head.

  “The brain, of course,” Twerx went on, “was just an empty vessel, into which we downloaded parts of our own.”

  “Brain transference?” Roger found it hard to shift from thinking of his furry friends as not zoo animals, but beings from an advanced civilization.

  “A brain is a brain,” said Twerx, his body-language suggesting nonchalance.

  “And information is information,” said Korfen, “even at the quantum level—especially at the quantum level.”

  Angelina seemed to have recovered her poise and confidence. “Why did you choose my zoo?” she asked with a slight tone of confrontation.

  “We’d planned to use an Australian zoo,” said Twerx. “We understand Australians are very fond of animals. But the zoo had shut down.”

  “We had to chose a zoo in the English-speaking world,” said Korfen. “English is the only Earth language we’ve studied. And this was the first zoo we found that had space for us.”

  Twerx spoke, presumably in his own tongue, then said, “And it’s nice you have a word in your language that includes us.”

  “Alien?” said Roger.

  “Animal,” said Twerx. “A species other than your own.”

  “So, you can see why we chose a zoo,” said Korfen.

  “Yeah,” said Roger with a hint of a shake of his head. “Of course.”

  Twerx looked down at his long furry self. “Take care of our bodies, please”—he looked up at the director—“until we return.”

  “Or actually until our Alien Contact Specialists re-occupy them,” said Korfen. “They’ll want you to take them to your leader.”

  “You intend to meet our president looking like that?” Angelina seemed to be trying to take control of the situation.

  Roger suppressed a smile. Situation normal.

  “You mean you don’t think they’ll take us seriously,” said Twerx, “because we have long fur and fuzzy faces?”

  “We’ll wear robes,” said Korfen.

  Korfen swiveled to stare into Roger’s eyes. “We’ve been very happy here, observing your species. And the humans who’ve stopped to observe us have been nice. And human children are delightful.”

  “We’re going now,” said Twerx. “Transferring up to our ship.”

  “We’ll simulate a lower level species,” said Korfen, “one from your region of course, and project it into these bodies to keep them functioning properly.”

  “Bye for now,” said Twerx.

  The bunyips suddenly went rigid. And Roger saw the intelligence vanish from their eyes.

  Sniffles, clearly sensing something was wrong, went from bunyip to bunyip, licking the creatures’ hands and whining.

  After a few seconds, Angelina said, “At least there’ll be no more barking bunyips.”

  Roger bit his lip. It seemed a particularly mean-spirited remark from his boss.

  Then, after another quarter minute or so, the bunyips began to move—slowly, as if they were falling in molasses. The bunyips bent at the waist. Then their lower legs bent in the opposite direction than human legs would and, their speed of motion increasing, they dropped to all fours. Roger smiled in sudden understanding: the bunyips now looked not all that different from Sniffles.

  A bunyip barked.

  Angelina started. Roger looked and saw that she’d closed her eyes.

  Then Sniffles and the other bunyip joined in the happy barking.

  “Oh no,” cried Angelina. “Oh, please, no!”

  Copyright © 2010 Carl Frederick

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  Short Stories

  A Placebo Effect

  What constitutes “effective” is not always simple or obvious—especially in medicine.

  Brian C. Coad

  It can happen to anybody. You get older. Your working life comes to an end. You settle into complacent retirement.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a minor thing you did thirty years ago flashes up. It casts you in the villain’s role in an international incident that could lead to World War III. India versus China.

  That was exactly what happened to me.

  (Let it be said in passing, though, that things do not always end up the way they started.)

  The situation that smote me with anxiety began on a dismally foggy September morning. After forty years of serving GBI as that great conglomerate’s patent attorney, I had been enjoying the honorable leisure of age in my small Berkeley Hills home with its fine view of San Francisco Bay. My morning routine featured a light breakfast, then a session in an overstuffed chair at my bay-view picture window, with an additional cup of coffee and the morning newspaper.

  This morning began no differently. I had collected my SF Chronicle, poured my coffee, and settled in my chair. The fog deprived me of my view of the bay, but that was typical at that time of the year. All else was normal.

  I took a sip of coffee. I opened the newspaper. I scanned its front-page headline. No premonitions.

  The headline, large type, screamed U.S. PATENT ATTORNEY ACCUSED OF STIRRING UP INDIA–CHINA CONFRONTATION.

  Naturally, this stirred up my professional interest. Patent attorneys rarely make headline news. I ran a hurried eye over the article under the headline.

  I saw a name.

  Wally Mason.

  My name.

  Before I could digest the whole article, I heard the peremptory beep of the bit of advanced technology I call my communicator, which sat on my living room desk.

  I crossed to the desk. Activated the communicator.

  “Wally?” A female voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Sally Johnson, GBI PR You remember me?”

  “Of course,” Polite, but I struggled to recall her.

  “You surprise me, Wally. You were about to retire when I joined GBI. We met only once, I think, during my orientation. Still, your infallible memory remains legendary among us, even today.”

  “Nice to know I’m not forgotten.” I had her now, a skinny young thing with a pert nose and a fire of ambition in her eye.

  “You’re enjoying your retirement?”

  “Indeed I am.” Except for my brief scan of that morning’s Chronicle. “How about you?”

  “I’ve been lucky. Promotion came quick. I’m now head of the PR department.”

  “Congratulations.” Good for her, but I wondered what was coming next. For sure, this was not a social call.

  It came.

  “The CEO asked me to get in touch, Wally. Have you seen the morning paper, watched media news, anything like that?”

  My habitual caution jumped in. “Not lately.”

  “A pity. Your name has gone nationwide. International too. This India–China disagreement. It appears you’re at the bottom of it.”

  “I couldn’t possibly be. I have nothing to do with India or China or anything else.’

  “You do, though. You remember the patent you wrote for Dr. Anandas a good long time ago?”

  “Vaguely.” I remember
ed Tony Anandas better than his patent. He was a bright young biochemist. Worked for GBI Pharmaceuticals. In fact, I got his job for him.

  “Dr. Anandas, of course, died of dehydration in the Darfur desert three years ago. He had left Pharmaceutical and was on a humanitarian mission for the U.N.”

  “Sorry to hear it.” I truly was. Humanitarian mission. The young Tony I remembered was typecast for that sort of thing.

  “If he hadn’t died, it would probably be his name in the media instead of yours. Since he’s gone, the buck stops with you.”

  “What buck? As I recall, Tony’s patent was about placebos. How could it possibly have anything to do with any disagreement between India and China?”

  “You don’t do your homework anymore, Wally. Apparently you didn’t even hear of Tony’s death, although some people made almost a saint of him.”

  “I no longer try to keep up with everything.”

  “Why should you? You’re retired. Let me sketch the current background for you. For years, China got all stirred up with social turmoil from the poorer 80 percent of its population. Luckily, the developed 20 percent made the nation dollar-rich. Meanwhile, global warming hit India hard. Himalayan snow turned to rain, spoiling the northern Indian snowmelt irrigation programs. India wanted a lot of dollars to help build compensating dams and reservoirs. China wanted something to ease its internal turmoil. India found something to sell to China that would work for them. Long Life pills. China bought them with the dollars India needed. The pills eased China’s internal turmoil. It was a fine trading arrangement.”

  “Good for India. Good for China. Where is the connection between me and Long Life pills?”

  “Tony Anandas. An extension of the pills in his patent. Placebo effect—you know—people take placebos and get better. He found a new market. Built it up. When it was a growing concern, GBI sold it, lock, stock, and barrel, to Indian interests.”

  “So?” I didn’t quite grasp the implications. “How come the India–China trade relationship has broken down?”

  “Our recession. China’s flow of dollars declined. They wanted to buy Long Life pills for yuan, but India needed dollars. Pill supplies dried up. New turmoil in China.”

  “And—”

  “China put out a propaganda campaign saying the Long Life pills didn’t work. They accused India of a scam, and went to the Anandas patent, which, if you remember, is expressly about the inertness of Dr. Anandas’s placebos. China said India had been lying for years, falsely claiming benefits for a product that the patent itself proved had no beneficial properties. India countered that the pills they supply are beneficial, and the problem is simply that the patent attorney who wrote the patent failed to disclose the beneficial properties of a set of specially modified products. Meanwhile, China says you deliberately kept the patent obscure so that India could get on with its scam. Both sides blame you. Neither India nor China really wants a war. So they’re taking it out on you, a scapegoat.”