Flesh and Blood

by French, Jackie

  ‘Yet?’

  Michael sighed. He looked even paler than Neil, I realised, as though he hadn’t slept for days or eaten either. ‘I guessed what you were going to do,’ he said. ‘Then when I couldn’t get through to you for a month I was sure of it. Worried though. I didn’t expect it to take so long. Were there problems?’

  So he didn’t know about Neil, or where I’d had the operation performed. ‘No,’ I said carefully. ‘They just wanted to make sure everything was all right.’

  ‘Then it was successful?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Thank goodness.’ He closed his eyes, as though the weight of thankfulness was too heavy for them to stay open.

  ‘It was a fairly minor procedure,’ I said.

  He opened his eyes. ‘Yes, I know.’

  I didn’t ask how he knew. As one of the City’s most senior Administrators Michael had access to any data he wanted.

  Should I tell Michael about Neil’s modification? I trusted Michael now — more or less — but he was still City. It was none of his business, no reason for him to know. And there was always the chance he might let information slip … ‘You must come out to dinner again,’ I was saying automatically, when suddenly he cut in.

  ‘NO.’

  The emphasis shocked me. Michael had come to dinner before. ‘Why not? Is it something to do with my restoration?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that. Dan, this is important. Very important. It’s the reason I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past month.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ I said quietly.

  ‘There’s a new epidemic in the City. A bad one.’

  ‘An epidemic? But there’s been nothing on any of the newsNets.’

  ‘No. We’re keeping it quiet for as long as possible.’

  I nodded. It made sense. Ever since the Declines the fear of new plagues had been part of the background of our lives. ‘What sort of epidemic?’

  ‘Influenza type. Para-influenza v895, to be exact. High fever, quick onset. Death can be within hours of the first symptoms. A long incubation — about twenty-one days.’

  ‘Which means it spreads all the faster.’

  ‘Exactly. People pass it on before they realise they’re infected. They’re already calling it the new plague.’ His voice indicated his distaste for the emotive word.

  Most City offices and apartments had self-contained heating and cooling systems, a precaution from the epidemics of the Declines when infections spread throughout the City within days via air-conditioning. And there was much less person-to-person contact in the City now than in the old days; most people worked and often played via Virtual. Only the most intimate social contacts were Realife. But that was still enough contact for an epidemic to spread.

  ‘What’s the survival rate?’

  ‘About 10 per cent,’ said Michael flatly.

  I blinked. Even the Black Death had a higher survival rate than that, if the stricken had been nursed and given water so they didn’t die of thirst. ‘That’s bad.’

  ‘Exactly. Death is due to kidney or heart failure. Most deaths occur within a few hours of the fever appearing. If the victim has a clone in stasis that we can use for repair and maintenance, then the survival rate goes up to 27 per cent.’

  Most Citysiders kept a clone of themselves in case of medical need. But few people in the Outlands had access to that sort of medical technology.

  ‘Any sign of a cure? Or a vaccine?’

  ‘They’re working on it,’ said Michael dryly. ‘I gather there are several promising leads. That may mean they’ll find a cure next week or a vaccine in twenty years’ time.’

  ‘Any idea where it started?’ Michael shrugged. Most new plagues are zoonoses — bird and animal diseases that mutate and pass on to humans. I nodded. The City had been largely animal free since the cat flu epidemic that had spread to humans too. Animals were strictly Outlands creatures now. Like me. It’s probably been carried in by visiting workers or — just possibly — by rats or insects in food shipments.

  Michael sighed. ‘We don’t even know where the first contact in the City was. Thirty-six cases were reported at once, with no work or lifestyle connections between them. There have been 116 deaths, eighteen survivals. The infection rate is dropping fast though, since we put controls into place.’

  ‘So what are you doing about it?’

  ‘All non-essential person-to-person contacts are forbidden; temperature screening at all public doorways; compulsory blood tests every two days to try to pick it up early in the incubation. It seems to have been confined to the City so far. We’re trying to keep it that way. No-one allowed in or out. We’ve admitted that there is a health problem; we had to. Information about the real death toll’s limited to Medical and Admin RankTwo and above.’

  ‘But you’re telling me …’

  ‘Exactly. For two reasons. First, because I don’t agree with all the rest of the Admin look on this, there’s no guarantee we can keep this contained forever. All it would need would be one infected person to leave the City and the epidemic would spread. It mightn’t even be a person. We have no idea yet how this plague is passed on — water, air, a pet pigeon might escape and carry it on its fleas … who knows. So tell your Meditech and don’t let anyone, or any animal, near your ’topia. If they do get in, keep them quarantined.’

  I thought of the centaurs galloping through the bush, and the Water Sprites down at the beach I’d made last year, of the roos who came down to the dams to drink, the uncounted visitors who sauntered into the community for the Sunday music afternoons, or for Elaine to sew on an amputated finger or give regeneration boosters or simply for a cup of tea with friends.

  Could any of that be halted?

  Michael might be asking the impossible. But there was no point telling him that.

  ‘And secondly?’

  ‘We need your help.’

  chapter 11

  The last time Michael had asked for my help I’d nearly been ripped to death by a werewolf. I took a deep breath.

  ‘How?’ I said.

  Michael sighed again. ‘You know how. You can scroll through data faster than anyone alive. We need your abilities.’

  ‘Even if they are Proclaimed?’

  ‘As of 10.00 this morning the Proclamation is lifted. You’re free to enter the City at will.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘But don’t, at the moment. You’re too valuable to risk.’

  I thought of the modified child I was carrying. ‘Permanently lifted?’

  ‘You know I can’t guarantee that. Proclamations can be issued again. But it’s not a temporary suspension. I can promise you that at least.’

  ‘I see,’ I said slowly. ‘But Michael — I can scroll through data but it won’t mean much more than if you set to consider for an automated search. I don’t have medical training.’

  ‘We don’t expect you to come up with a cure. We need you to monitor the OutlandNets.’

  ‘I thought you’d already be doing that.’

  Michael nodded. ‘Of course. We like to know what’s going on. But the thing is fast. The first sign probably won’t be someone announcing on the Net: “Hey, guys, the plague’s here.” It might be more subtle — fewer kids on a SchoolNet suddenly, coffee shipments that don’t arrive. You don’t just have the ability to sort through data quickly. You know how to make connections.’

  I didn’t argue. It was true.

  Michael frowned, as though he were trying to concentrate through weariness. ‘We need to find out where it started. If we can find the original animal host — if there is one — they may have some natural immunity. And if we can tap into that it may help enormously in making a vaccine.’

  No worries, I thought. Track down a vampire, investigate a clan of werewolves, locate the source of a new plague. Just ask good old Danielle …

  ‘Michael, you need Melanie. She’s the one with medical training.’

  ‘I would like nothing better than to have Mel back. For many r
easons. But I can’t.’

  ‘Michael, is this Link secure?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said immediately.

  ‘Maybe Mel can be restored. The doctor who restored me is good.’

  ‘No one is that good,’ said Michael.

  ‘She is,’ I insisted. ‘Good enough to give our Mod to Neil too. If she can brain splice Neil for something as complex as that, I’ll bet she might be able to help Mel too.’

  Michael stared. ‘Neil? You mean it actually worked?’

  ‘It worked.’ I hesitated. Neil still found it uncomfortable — even unbearably so — to Link with me for more than a fraction of a second. He hadn’t even tried to match his mind to a computer Net. ‘Well, partly at least.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ Michael said slowly, ‘that anyone was doing work of that calibre in the Outlands.’

  I grinned without humour. ‘They’ve made very sure you hadn’t. It’s nice to know the City isn’t all powerful. Mel has a Norm clone. Maybe that clone can be used to repair the mindwipe damage. It’s worth a try.’

  ‘It would be,’ he said, ‘except for one thing. Mel is in the City. We might spread the infection taking her out.’

  I thought of Dr Meredith’s ‘boys’ — perhaps one would take the risk, would be prepared to go to the City and work there. And perhaps … I had a sudden vision of a new Forest: me and Neil and Michael and Mel, our minds all Linked together, almost like the old days.

  ‘Perhaps you could be restored too,’ I added.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘If it could be done with me, it could be done with you.’

  He was silent. I could almost feel the way his mind would be working behind the blank mask. We had been so close, once upon a time. Then he said, ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the City needs me. I can’t take off — what, one month, two? while there’s a crisis. Or take the risk that it may not work either.’

  ‘But you’d be all the more capable of handling a crisis if you had your old abilities back.’ I held out the ultimate temptation. ‘With abilities like that you’d reach the top that much sooner.’

  The ghost of a grin. Yes, I knew Michael, but he knew me. ‘And what if we’re Proclaimed all over again? Maybe when this is over, sweetheart I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, monitor what you can. And take care.’

  The screen went blank.

  chapter 12

  I sat by the empty screen. The sound of Elaine’s laughter came faintly from the living room. Theo was laughing too. ‘… learn knitting,’ I heard him say. ‘Booties can’t be hard.’

  How long had it been since Michael called me ‘sweetheart’? The old term of affection slipping out again. And, yes, I did love him still, though in a different way from my love for Neil. Loved Michael enough to be cold inside at the thought of him facing plague in the City.

  Loved Theo and Elaine enough to feel even colder at the thought of plague reaching here or Black Stump.

  There was no one Net that reached all Outlands utopias. Many utopias weren’t even Linked, either because of religious conviction or poverty, or a side effect of genetic engineering that had taken away the ability to Link. Some Nets used satellite transmissions and were potentially worldwide. Others operated in small local areas.

  No, there was no way to spread a warning through the entire Outlands. But I could try. And if the news spread to the City and caused the panic Michael was trying to avoid, tough shit. Yes, I still loved Michael. But I loved others more.

  The first call was to Black Stump. Black Stump had been my first non-Forest friends when I’d been exiled to the Outlands: rich in casual generosity, kids and not much else, they were possibly the most laid back utopia in the Outlands. I loved them dearly; had even considered living there, but more than twenty-four hours of chaos would have driven me insane. The chime belled on and on, so I thought that no-one was at the utopia’s main house, or near enough to receive the call signal. Then suddenly the screen brightened, and there was Ophelia’s face, fuzzy around the edges as every signal was from Black Stump, her grey hair even fuzzier, the laugh lines deepening as she recognised me.

  ‘Dan! It’s been ages! What have you done to your hair?’ She shoved a couple of dirty mugs away from the terminal.

  I’d forgotten about my cropped hair. ‘Had it cut.’

  ‘Looks awful,’ said Ophelia bluntly. ‘Let it grow again.’

  ‘I will. Ophelia, I’m sorry, I haven’t much time …’

  Something in my expression must have showed my anxiety. ‘What’s up?’ she said, suddenly sobering.

  ‘Plague in the city. Bad. Ten per cent survival rate. Flu-like symptoms, around twenty-one days’ incubation, death is swift after the first symptoms.’

  She blinked at so much bad news. ‘I understand. I think. Has it spread beyond the City yet?’

  ‘They think not. But they might not know.’

  ‘They might not indeed.’

  ‘Spread the news will you?’

  ‘You don’t have to ask,’ said Ophelia dryly. ‘We will.’

  ‘It might be an idea to sort of close yourself off while this thing lasts; keep away from anyone who might spread infection.’

  Ophelia nodded. But I knew they wouldn’t. Black Stump had welcomed a vampire-crazed psychotic into their community, had called a ruthless werewolf friend. They would never accept that someone they liked could bring them harm. If a couple of Wanderers arrived with smiles and an appetite, they’d welcome them to dinner, plague or not.

  ‘One more thing,’ I said slowly. ‘Have you a list of OutlandNets anywhere?’

  ‘A few. Local ones, the school one, some of the Wanderers left contactsigs. I suppose you want to warn as many people as you can.’

  That too, I thought. But I just said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll send them through on print-out. Okay?’

  ‘Okay. One more thing.’ I didn’t want to say it. But I had to. ‘I know you trade with the City for the stuff you can’t grow. But any City contact is dangerous. I’d like to … to give Black Stump enough credit to get through the next year or two without having to trade, so you can just order through the City.’

  Ophelia’s face showed shock, and something unreadable. ‘You’ve got enough credit to do that?’

  ‘More than enough. Royalties on Virtual designs.’ The kilolitres just kept mounting up.

  She thought for a while. For a moment it seemed she was going to say no. Then she said, ‘All right. Thanks, that’d be good. Look, if you’ve got so much credit, could you put in enough for a new generator too?’

  ‘Yes. Sure. Of course.’ I blinked. ‘I thought you’d refuse. Get all indignant.’

  ‘Are you crazy? If we had credit we’d share with you,’ she added matter-of-factly.

  It was so true — and so obvious — it shook me that I hadn’t realised it before. Black Stump just assumed that what you had, you shared. Which went for my credit too.

  ‘Hey, wow, I can’t wait to tell the others. A generator that works …’

  ‘Don’t forget about the plague.’ It was obvious the plague paled against the thought of a new generator.

  ‘What?’ said Ophelia vaguely. ‘Yeah, of course.’

  Another face appeared on the screen: younger; Ophelia’s jutting chin but more determined. Portia. She stared at me. ‘Your hair looks awful.’

  ‘Thanks, kid.’

  ‘I’m not a kid,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m ten and three quarters. Do you know that in Shakespeare’s time I could be married now? Betrothed anyway.’

  ‘Really?’ Eleven and a half years, I thought, and my daughter might be saying that too. If we survived.

  ‘I’ll put the credit in as soon as I log off,’ I told Ophelia. ‘Order supplies from the City now and have them sent out on remote.’

  ‘Yes, sure. Coffee too? Oh, for some Realcoffee.’

  Ophelia gave me their creditsig, it was a City one but the Outlands credit Nets mostly work on City
Cred. ‘And chocolate,’ said Portia decisively. I logged off, logged in the credit transfer and then went to tell the others.

  chapter 13

  Elaine had brought a casserole — chicken with cream and apples — and we ate the apple pie she’d left in the fridge. Afterwards I said I was tired, so they left, and Neil finally agreed to come up to bed.

  We made love slowly. It had been a long time. Neither of us had wanted to perform linked to the monitors at the Clinic. Afterwards we lay and watched the moonlight through the window and the leaf shadows on the wall. It was all Realtime; I’d put the terminals onto manual. Without a computer Link nearby any echo of a mental Link between us had vanished too.

  Two years before I always lived within computer range; had broken the Link only for brief Realtime tasks — taking hot coffee mugs from the ultrawave, bowel motions, talking to outsiders who weren’t enhanced.

  I’d got used to Realtime in the past two years, learnt to focus on each moment in a way you never did online. I wondered what would happen when Neil was more used to the enhancement — whether we’d bother with Realtime between us at all.

  Somehow I thought we would.

  ‘She was happy,’ said Neil drowsily.

  ‘Elaine? Yes.’

  ‘She’ll like a baby.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Theo looks frail. Don’t know if it’s just because I haven’t seen him for a while or if he’s got frailer lately.’

  ‘Maybe both,’ I said.

  More silence, if you didn’t count the rustle of the leaves, the grunt of the Wombat as he tried yet again to push through the stone wall around the garden, then settled for the carrots I’d left out for him in a dish by the back door. Sometimes he scratched on the door wanting company. But mostly the wombat genes overpowered his human ones and his mind was focused on food alone.

  ‘Do you remember the last bioplague?’ asked Neil finally.

  ‘A bit. I was four, no five. I remember being creche-bound for a while. They wouldn’t even let my parents visit. But it didn’t matter much. We Virtualed instead.’

  ‘I don’t remember much change here either. I suppose it was different for the adults. I know Theo turned on the go-away signal for any floater or dikdik homing in on our coordinates, and powered up the neuro fence around the perimeter. He’s probably done that again already now.’