by Andrea White
“I’ll be back,” Zert said and stuck his fingers through the door to pat her nose.
As Zert settled into the chair next to his father, the stranger clicked off his communication device and turned to face them. “Hello,” he said. His gaze latched on to Zert, as if he were the most important person in the room. “My apologies, but that was Dr. Rosario himself.”
The man said “Dr. Rosario” as if he were saying “Dr. God.”
“Zert,” Uncle Marin said, “this is Dr. Brown, a representative of Project Rosie—”
His father interrupted, “I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything.”
“Oh,” Uncle Marin said, picking at a tattoo of a giant “NW” on the back of his thumb.
Underneath the stubble, his father’s cheeks grew pink.
“That’s fine. That’s my job. But first, I have a few questions for Zert,” said Dr. Brown, turning to Zert with a big smile.
Although Dr. Brown’s features didn’t look implanted, his smile resembled the “Manly Grin” style advertised by the implant doctors.
His father nodded. “Go ahead.”
Zert braced for something terrible when Dr. Brown reached into his front breast pocket.
The doctor pulled out a notecard and held it up for Zert to look at. The piece of gray electronic paper was ordinary except for a blotch of black ink that swirled like a black tornado.
“What do you see?” the doctor asked.
Zert cocked his head and gazed at the messy blob. He imagined a boy about his age getting frustrated with the Quarantine and kicking over a can of black PeopleColor. “I see an accident. A mess,” he said.
“Look closer.” The doctor’s voice was smooth, meant to be reassuring. But it was too smooth.
On the notecard, thousands of tiny wheels, like the insides of a miniature watch, emerged inside the black blob.
“What going on?” Zert muttered. Each circle revolved slowly, a wheel stuck in the ink, then started whirling faster and faster. The sight of all the activity made his head ache, and he looked down at the table.
Dr. Brown said firmly, “Keep your attention fixed on the page.”
Zert struggled to follow the doctor’s directions, but his eyes felt heavy. The wheels spun so quickly that they merged into a single black cloud that floated away.
Zert opened his eyes and wiped the drool off his chin with the back of his hand.
Through the front window, he could see a passerby covering his head as the red, green, purple, and blue rain poured down. Low City rain passed through pollution clouds, causing it to shimmer with all the colors of Popsicles.
Dr. Brown, his father, and his uncle were heading back into the store from the apartment, talking among themselves as though nothing had happened.
Zert quickly closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, pretending to be asleep.
“He’s angry, of course,” Dr. Brown said. “All adolescents are. And it’s understandable that this generation is the angriest generation yet. But I didn’t see anything so unusual in him as to bar entry.”
“That’s a relief,” his father breathed. “It’s hard to be a single dad. I’ve often wondered.”
Often wondered what?
“Zert’s going to do just great,” his uncle said. “He takes after my side of the family—he’s an adventurer at heart.”
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Brown said, “Zert still has to pass the physical in the morning. We can’t approve your son if he has Superpox.”
“Can’t you examine him here?” his father said.
Zert fought the impulse to check his hands.
Dr. Brown shrugged. “You know Superpox is unpredictable. For most, it strikes twenty-four hours after exposure. But the symptoms have been known to show up later.”
“I’ve got to make some plans,” Uncle Marin said. “I need to know as soon as possible if Jack and Zert can go.”
“I can’t perform a definitive exam without my equipment,” Dr. Brown said. “But while he’s still out, I could perform a preliminary on him if you want.”
At the thought of that stranger’s fingers patting him down, Zert opened his eyes. “What’s going on?” He tried to sound sleepy.
“Zert!” his father said. “Like I said, I’m … I’m sorry. I …” He wasn’t looking at Zert but at the floor.
Dr. Brown ambled over. “We do owe you an explanation, don’t we?”
“What did you do to me?” Zert demanded as Dr. Brown sat down.
“Spectrum hypnosis,” Dr. Brown said. “You’ve heard of it?”
“The stuff the military uses to interrogate rebels and make them forget things.” Zert glared at his father.
His father nodded as he sat back down at the table. “Sorry, Zert. You’ll understand in a minute.”
“Zert, there’s always a cost to any adventure,” Uncle Marin said as he pulled out a chair. “Always a price for glory.”
“What’s going on? Enough already!” Zert said. “Tell me!”
Dr. Brown smiled. “First, I must warn you that Dr. Rosario’s project is top secret. It has to be. Unwelcome attention from the outside world would place the participants in great danger. If, for some reason, you don’t qualify, you and your father will need to undergo spectrum hypnosis to ensure you forget this session.”
This day was getting more and more bizarro. “OK.”
“Do you like science, Zert?” Dr. Brown said.
Zert shook his head. “My favorite subject is English.”
“Then I’ll start with a simple explanation, and if you want more, I’ll provide it to you,” Dr. Brown said.
Zert nodded.
“Of course you know how 3-D Mag Levs work?” Dr. Brown said.
“Uh huh.” He had learned in class that Mag Levs instantaneously transported solid objects in space-time through worm-holes. Whatever that meant.
“All right then,” Dr. Brown said. “A scientist named Dr. Apt Rosario invented a minimizer function on a 3-D Mag Lev. He has used it to successfully minimize volunteers. It’s a way to build a sustainable world.”
Zert tried to make sense of the man’s words. “What does minimize mean?”
Dr. Brown held his gaze. “Shrink. It means shrink, Zert.”
8
SCI-FI COMEDY
“You want me to shrink?” Zert asked, his voice rising to a squeak.
Dr. Brown’s expression did not change, but Zert’s father looked away with a pained expression on his face.
“Not just you,” Dr. Brown said. “Your father and your uncle want to be Rosies too.”
“Rosies?” Zert demanded. As he looked from his father to his uncle to Dr. Brown, he wiped his sweat-soaked hands on his jeans.
“The recruits are nicknamed Rosies,” Dr. Brown said without a smile. “There are about fifty thousand of them now. We’re—”
“How … How big will I be?” Zert interrupted. “I mean, how big would I be if I did this?”
Dr. Brown took a tape measure out of his pocket and put it on the table. “If I measured you, we could work out your height exactly.”
Zert shook his head. No. No. No.
“About the size of your big thumb,” Dr. Brown said. He used the same tone any doctor would use to say, “It’s time for your checkup, young man,” except this … this was not normal.
Zert stared at his right thumb.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Superpox vaccine is prohibitively expensive,” Dr. Brown said. Zert knew that the seaweed scientists needed to make the vaccine was nearly extinct. “However, just one dose of the vaccine can last Project Rosie indefinitely,” Dr. Brown said, and he broke into a wide smile. “Once you shrink, you’ll receive a vaccination. There’s no Superpox there.”
“Where’s there?” Zert asked, even though under his breath, he said, “I’m not going.”
“Remember the New World?” Dr. Brown answered. “Well, this is the Newest World.”
Zert’s mind was spinning too fast. Th
is wasn’t some sci-fi comic. This was a doctor talking.
“You would be making a contribution to mankind,” Dr. Brown said.
Zert had read the word “mankind” in books. But he’d never heard a person say the word out loud before. “Could I talk to my father?” he asked.
Uncle Marin stared intently at him.
“Alone,” he added.
The doctor frowned. “I need to go over a few practical details. Your father wants to leave tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on you, nephew,” Uncle Marin said.
Zert glared at him. “To become a thumb?”
“Now, Zert,” his father said. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “This is the best choice, given our messed-up situation.” He paused. “The only choice,” he muttered. “We need to do this.”
Dr. Brown’s mouth kept moving as Zert leaned back in his chair. He was suddenly conscious of his thumbs. All he had done was be a kid and enjoy one wild night. And now …
He gazed down at his thumbs, wiggling them. Life was twiddling him. Big time.
A woman’s giggle penetrated the thin door that separated their apartment from the store.
Zert tried to brush Chub’s hair, but the wolf kept nibbling at the brush. He couldn’t shrink. He wouldn’t be able to brush Chub. He had enough trouble brushing her now. If he were thumb sized, it would be impossible.
His father faced him in the chair across from the couch. He was dressed as always in a T-shirt covered in the Cage & Sons logo and blue jeans. The T-shirt was tight around his middle, and one of his belt loops was broken and made a bump.
“I’m not going,” Zert repeated.
Uncle Marin stuck his head inside the door. His broad shoulders almost blocked Zert’s view of the young woman standing behind him. Her pink overalls matched her boots.
At first Zert didn’t think he knew her. But as he watched her bright red lips pull back in a smile, he recognized Glade, his father’s favorite server at the Old Timey Café. Before the Quarantine, he and his father had often gone there together.
Uncle Marin cast a worried look at Jack. His slicked-back blond hair was mussed. “I’ll be at Gehozafat’s Donut Bar,” he said. “Let me know as soon as you can. I’m counting on you.”
“I told you, Uncle Marin, I’m not going,” Zert called after him.
“We’re still talking this through,” his father said to his uncle.
Zert glared at his dad. It was true that during the Antarctica Wars, his father had lived for three years in a tent. But ever since he had been born, ever since he had known him, Jack Cage had been a typical boring father. Not someone he would ever suspect of wanting to shrink.
Uncle Marin closed the door to the apartment.
“Uncle Marin loves his fans,” Zert said as his uncle’s footsteps died away. “He loves it when people pay attention to him. I think it’s bizarro that he wants to leave”—he struggled to find the word—“civilization.”
“He’s an outdoors man like me,” his father said.
“Really?” Zert said. On the New Worlds show, he’d seen his uncle step into a lion’s den, ride a whale, and walk through a forest fire. The outdoors was supposed to be dirty. Yet Uncle Marin always looked like he had just stepped out of a CleanRoom, where he had spent a lot of time sprucing up in front of a mirror. Even the bathrobe he wore in their apartment looked pressed.
“I spent yesterday morning familiarizing myself with Dr. Rosario’s outfit,” his father said. “It’s legitimate, all right. His nonprofit is dedicated to reducing overpopulation and saving the world.”
“Dr. Rosario can save the world without me. I’m not going to become a thumb, Dad,” Zert said as he twisted a pink ball on the couch’s upholstery.
“Not a thumb. A Rosie,” his father repeated impatiently. “You weren’t even listening to the doctor. You’re also forgetting that if we don’t leave, you might have to go to jail for twenty years,” he said, his voice rising. “This decision is vital to your life. You have no other options.”
“Dad,” Zert said, “after the doctor told me you wanted me to shrink, I couldn’t think.” He pressed his hands against his ears. “I couldn’t hear.”
His father moved the chair closer, but before he could speak, Zert began, “I didn’t ruin the oceans, kill all the seaweed, and jack up the cost of the Superpox vaccine. Adults did that. All I did was make one mistake because it is so boring to be locked up inside this store 24/7. And now you want me to shrink?” Zert yanked one of the pink puffs off the couch and threw it at the trash can.
“I get it. This is a big change,” his father said in the overly patient voice he used whenever he talked with the children of their customers. “But if you had been listening, you would have found what Dr. Brown had to say interesting.”
Zert let out an extra-loud sigh.
“The Rosies are colonizing Rocky Mountain National Park,” his father said. “The World Council’s attempts to repopulate the national parks with wildlife have largely failed. Only some buffalo herds live there. Access is restricted, so very few people go. The mountains block the pollution clouds, and the air is still clean there.”
His father’s voice had changed as he said this. His tone was unfamiliar. He sounded … hopeful.
“The outdoors is dangerous,” Zert said. He stared out the cracked back window, which his father had taped to keep out the bad air.
“It’s dangerous here, Zert,” his father said.
“We know the dangers here,” Zert said. Superpox. The trampos who liked to catch kids doing wrong. The drug dealers who sometimes lasered passersby. “The outdoors is scary.” He looked down at Chub. She was attacking a pink ball on the couch, and the ball was winning. “But say I went.” He tousled the mini-wolf’s head. “Could I take Chub?”
“No.” His father shook his head.
“Please, Dad,” he said. He turned to Chub, kneading her ears in the way that she liked.
“Only humans can go,” his father said. “But I’ve worked out the details. Brew Mahouse will take care of Chub and Okar for us.”
Brew Mahouse, the son of one of Jack’s best Xterminators, had rescued a puppy from a broken g-pipe once. Zert trusted Brew, but still. “They’re my pets. No one will take care of them better than I do.” It was hard to breathe.
“Did you hear Dr. Brown say the Rosies have a good school?” his father asked.
Zert gazed down at his hands. He imagined rows and rows of thumbs sitting behind desks. “No,” he said. “I’m not leaving.”
His father let out a slow sigh. He cracked his knuckles. “It’s your decision. I’m not going to make you go. But please. Think hard about this. Think about what this means.”
Zert could see his father’s worry in the slump of his shoulders. This was the kind of decision that changes everything. “Dad, I know you’re doing this for me and I appreciate it … but I’d rather take my chances here,” Zert said. “Could I … could I call Cribbie? Please, Dad.”
His father closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again. “You can’t tell anyone about Project Rosie,” he said. “Remember: It’s top secret.”
Zert jerked upright. Whoa! His father hadn’t refused him. “So if I promise not to tell Cribbie, you’ll let me talk to—”
“I was protecting you, Zert,” his father interrupted, standing up from the chair. “The news about Superpox victims is mostly bad. I didn’t want you to have to see your friend …” His voice trailed off as he left the room.
Zert’s heart thumped fast. He got up from the couch and went to stand at the door of the store. He saw his father head over to a stack of boxes. “Magnetized Dust. Made for use only with official Xter Vacuums,” the sign read. His father opened the box on top and pulled out a crystal ring. Its screen drooped. It was Zert’s battered I-ring.
For the second time in two days, his father had surprised him. Zert hadn’t bothered to look in the boxes of unsold merchandise. That hiding place had seemed too obvious.
His father approached Zert and handed him the I-ring.
In his outstretched palm, it weighed next to nothing. But this I-ring was the way to reach Cribbie. It was his key to the whole world.
9
BLISTERS, WELTS, BOILS, PUS
Even before he sat all the way down on the couch, Zert spoke the command, “Messages.” It had been a whole day since he last saw Cribbie. His friend must have called.
Sure enough, Cribbie’s scratchy voice floated out from the blank plasma screen. “Don’t believe everything you hear. I’m not doing so bad,” his voice said.
Relief washed over Zert’s body like a warm bath.
His I-ring was an inexpensive model without holo-image features, so callers remained flat images on his screen. But he should have been able to at least see Cribbie as his friend delivered the message. Zert pushed the imaging button again, but the small balloon-shaped screen remained transparent.
“I should be up and around in the next few days,” Cribbie said.
Listening to a voice waft out of his I-ring without having a view of the person gave him an eerie feeling, as if he were talking to a ghost.
“Then we can track down Mr. Etc. and set up another trash war,” Cribbie said. He started coughing. When he could breathe again, he gasped out, “See ya.”
Cribbie must have not turned his visual transmitter on when he left the message. Maybe his friend hadn’t wanted Zert to see his boils. He scanned the date in the lower right corner of the empty screen. Two days ago. “Next,” he said quickly.
When Zert hadn’t called him back, Cribbie would have guessed that Jack had hidden Zert’s I-ring. He would also have known that Zert would eventually talk his father into giving it back. His friend would have understood that Zert was worried, so Cribbie would have left another message … unless …
The head and shoulders of a man, a stranger, appeared on the screen next. He had eyebrows shaped like rainbows, only black. His implanted cheeks were only slightly rounder and fuller than his expensive chin. His tie, a blue bar of color above his collarbone, lit up his dark shirt.