by Jack Womack
By one that afternoon I'd been treated and then bedded in recovery at Montefiore. They'd anesthetized me during the procedure; coming to, I saw my husband near. He'd brought me to the hospital after hearing me scream for him that morning.
"I'm unblinded-" I said; it hurt so much to hear myself as it did to speak, and I quieted again. After a moment more I'd adjusted to the lingering ache that rattled my head, and spoke anew to John. "What happened to me?"
My husband appeared in angel's guise, whiteclad from crown to toe; when he replied, the mask so filtered and distanced his voice that it sounded as if it came from across a seance table, and for an instant I wondered if I'd died. The notion that heaven might resemble a hospital room seemed only natural.
"You're viabled, Iz," he said, reaching through the noninfective shield overhanging my bed, sliding his arm into the attached infold that he might stroke my hand with lastexed fingers. "Thank Godness. They said you'd be able again, after. I didn't believe. I thought you were leaving without me."
"What happened?"
"Calm yourself, Iz. Healing's ensuing. You'll be out by nightfall, they say."
"What happened to my eyes?" I asked. "Why couldn't I see?"
"Not your eyes," he said. "They attempted explanations. Claimed the diagnostician wasn't programmed to spot what showed. It's burned away now, you're treated-"
"My baby-?"
"No," he said, pulling his arm out of its enclosure, leaving me untouched. "Your headache's source. Once they doped you they scanned, and read a tumor. Behind the prefrontals, pressing against the optic nerve. Now it's gone."
"I was cancered?"
"You were," he said. "No longer. Love, Iz. I love you-"
"Known," I said. "What caused it? They're telling?"
"They're investigating."
"We have to talk, John," I said, recalling the previous night's events.
"We will. Meanwhile, I'll comfort. I'll nurse. Forgive me, Iz."
There wasn't reason enough yet not to; the tent's translucence prevented me from seeing his eyes' light as he spoke. "Forgiven. We still need to talk-"
"We will," he said. "We will, later. Rest, Iz. Rest."
Some time afterward I read of a child's brain tumor which, when biopsied postmortem, was found to contain within itself the seeds of seven tiny siblings who'd lost their way in utero. Nothing in fetal art matched such a spectacular, if small-scaled, performance. That afternoon, long before I heard of such findings, I insighted, and imagined my own twin unisoned within me without my knowledge, seeking solace in my head; I'd wondered why it had taken so long to let me know it was there, and then I wondered how its debut might have been assisted.
Several days later, once my outpatienting was done, I went to see Judy. "They've not IDed the likely agent, or they're not telling?" she asked; bells tinkled, counterpointing her words.
"Either's likely," I said, touching my head, tracing my scar, fingering my stubble. They'd shaved me to prevent laserburn during the operation. Leverett had several wigs forwarded to the hospital, blond mops of varying lengths; I preferred my nubbiness, and so went naked, topside. "Mayhap I'm sideshowing paranoia-"
"Paranoia has its place," Judy said. "Here's what's found thus far. The clinic's mum on Melaway. Your doctors are even more evasive than mine. Montefiore claims the Brixton studies are at present inaccessible. Alice won't rape their network, or won't tell if she has. My labbies inhouse are unfamilared with the candy he gave you direct, though they estimate it no more than an accelerator. The problem, they say, is that pinpointing the origin of tumors is like spotting the first cloud to rain in a hurricane. As ever, truth is lost amid fact."
"As ever-"
"They were able to ID the pills he gave your husband," she said. "They contained an unpronounceable which, as you hunched, nullified the regooding medication. That was mixed with an amphetamine base. He was lightspeeding, likely, throughout your trip."
"His behavior, then," I said. "Doesn't that explain his actions? Is he to be held responsible-"
"That partially explains his actions," Judy said. "But it's unquestioned to my mind that Leverett would have known. I'm sure as well he was awared of what he gave you might do. Astonishing that your husband could behave at all, as it circumstances." She handed me a sheet of printout initialled with her chop. "Ergo, he's reinstated. This'll ease him from your house with greater ease. If you'd told me Leverett was serving as pharmacist to you earlier, this might have been prevented."
"Or we might have not returned," I said. "Will Leverett suffer for this?"
"Your husband's actions demanded punishment, however situationed," she said. "Leverett's accomplished at smoothing trails. If direct correlation is made between his knowledge of Melaway's dangers, if any, and his approval of your treatment, I'll have him. Otherwise, his deniability holds." "You can't intercede-?"
"He forwards data through Alice every morning," she said. "She passes his tales on to Seamus sans footnote or critique. Leverett's predecessor oversaw Alice's programming, and he evidently awared Leverett of data entry methods that circumvent all guards, ours or hers. Seamus, of course, deafens to me still regarding this. I closet a hope that she's logicked the plan through and presently strings Leveret' along with so much rope that he'll eventually hang."
"He's addling," I told her. "The eyes show it. He's adhocking as he goes-"
"From the start Leverett's earplayed this one step ahead of the game and no further," she said. "He'll trip, soon. Then he'll be had." She paused; shook her head, and eyed me. "Unless his footing holds. He is an accomplished dancer. It racks me to think of what this company could be, if half my time wasn't spent thwarting others' schemes. The structure inheres such, I suppose." She spoke with the voice of one suffering thirty years' additional wear to what she truly held. That morning she evidenced a sense that, having worked lifelong to terraform a world, she'd discovered on the seventh day that the wrong world had been redone. "I'll truth you, Iz. He's rounded me leftright." She stared at the Drydens, backgrounded by bells. "He's secreting what he tells Seamus, and Seamus isn't saying. Seamus claims I'm obsessing when I bring the matter up, and then speaks to me only of lost days. He shares his anecdotage with me, but no more."
"Leverett's feigning strength," I said. "He has to be-"
"What of his homunculus? Is he approaching a terminal state?"
"All signs are there save collapse," I said. "Soon now, I think."
She extended her arm, alongsiding it near mine, contrasting my darkness with hers; again, I was no longer lighter than she was. "You've turned considerable this week. Have you seen him since the op?"
"No," I said. "This afternoon I do. He's one of his world, Judy. I'll show as animal in his eyes hereafter, and Leverett'll lose control-"
"For you he'll bestialize, Iz," she said. "Bet me."
"There's no love there."
"There's something, I gather," she said. "Should I have stayed with Seamus after I no longer had to? How much did you once have in common with your husband that you no longer do?"
"I've not looked," I said, lying; our differences of late didn't trouble me so much as our similarities. "Even once we're split we'll stay joined so long as our baby lives-"
"Your baby's what's shattered you, I'd say," she said. "Yet you've convinced yourself otherwise. Your Elvis will overlook much as well, however you show. Nothing's twisted so easily as reality so long as you've reason to bend it."
"We'll see . . .
"We will. That's this project's downfall, it can't contain the realities drawn for it. Regooding's downfall as well, I believe."
"Regooding's your plan, I thought," I said. "You doubt its success-?"
"It was Leverett's plan," she said. "His initial proposal to Seamus. There are merits inherent, certainly. Our guards always seemed too anxious to slip into praetorian skin so long as the tailoring favored them. Leverett convinced me of the need for doing with our guards as we have. Doing away with them, I should say."
"They're people, Judy," I said. "My husband-"
"Those with whom they dealt were people." she said. "Seamus and me are people, too. But when the moment came, we struck. Where would we be, were that to happen now? You'd be here, mayhap, in the driver's seat, landing as I landed. Your husband was in prime position once, you know, had he keened to act."
"He's honorable," I said. "He-"
"We were honorable. It's mooted, in any event. There is an idea I've had, however. Would you care to give ear?"
"What is it?"
She pressed one of the buttons on her desk; headcocked as if to hear whispers in another room, and then switched off the control. "All's clear. It evidences to me that your husband's treatment seems not to have taken even prior to Leverett's fudging. Now that he's reinstated he'll be fully accessed once more-"
"That's so," I said, lowering my voice as she did. "Detail."
"Praetorians, too, had their place," she said. "I shouldn't think he's overfond of Leverett."
"You're suggesting-?"
"Nada," she said. "I've let you read my mind, nothing more. Once he's repositioned, if he's uncontrolled-"
"He'd suffer consequences if such occurred," I said.
She nodded. "Settling both our problems."
"I'll not participate," I said. `John's not the same as he was, he's not-"
"Old habits don't die, Iz," she said. "They settle mudways until rain flushes them out again. The bottle cries for its alkie. The needle beseeches its junkie. The razor beckons its slasher. All are as before, in time. But mayhap you know him best. And as noted before, your course serves you, whichever way it turns."
"It's my old job I want," I said. "Nothing more-"
"And you'll have it again, once I'm in charge and Leverett's not," she said. "Our earplay ongoes." She patted my back; only rarely since childhood had Judy worked me in such manner as to make me feel as a conspirator, however guiltless I may have been. "I'm sure you're telling me all you hear."
There was no meeting that morning; Leverett was alone in his office. Guards slouched against the hallwalls outside, picking at their skin, nodding as I passed, their presence awaring me that E was somewhere near. Leverett's look melted when he saw me; his smile downturned and he lowered his eyes. "I've questions, Leverett. Answer me."
"Isabel," he said, "you're black."
"Sans doubt," I said, sitting on one of his office's hard chairs. "That's all you can say?"
"Did those wigs arrive?" he asked. "He's not doing well today, Isabel, when he sees you as you are that could tip it-"
"Did you know?" He pushed himself further away from me, rolling back, bumping against the wall behind his desk. "You're awared of where I've been, I take it."
"We prayed for you," Leverett said. "Recovery's assured in these cases, I'm informed. Problems are at more immediate hand, Isabel, we have to-"
"I'm not gened for cancer," I said. "Does Melaway tumor? You'd know, even if you've not told. Does it?"
"Please excuse me, Isabel, I'm so preoccupied at present. Your look will send him spiraling, do you know that?"
Rising, I spat in his face; as he sat there, openmouthed and dripping, I got up and walked around his desk, gripped his chair-arms and slammed him back against the wall as he sat there. He appeared more frightened than affronted, swiping himself dry with his handkerchief as I stood over him. His room's cameras recorded all; I didn't care what they saw.
"Does Melaway tumor?" I replayed. "Answer, please."
"You perceive a connection?"
"You don't?"
"If I were the sort who perceived connections, I might," he said. "Ours is a carcinogenic age, Isabel. I've been cancered three times, everyone gets it. Thank Godness yours was treatable-"
"Do you know?" I asked. "Did you?"
"You're hystericked, Isabel," he said, his smile returning. "Inhale slow and steady. Calm yourself. Calm-"
"You knew what Melaway would do to me before I started taking it, didn't you?"
"What's your context?" he asked. "Please, Isabel, communication's impossible when one's irrational-"
"Contexted in that I took what was given to me and now I'm cancered," I said. "You assured my safety."
"The doctors assured me," he said. "If they misinform, where's truth to come from?"
"What of the pills you gave John? You had to know what was in those. You doubledealed us, Leverett." Mayhap he believed he mimed benevolence as he shadowed his face with concern, eyeing me as I'd seen him eye Judy, looking my way as if observing, from a distant room, a particularly difficult patient. "You assured their safety, and then suspended John for actions taken while influenced by what you'd given him-"
"We took every option to guarantee your safety before you left," he said, his voice so even as an announcer's once again. "A week prior to your departure our experts statisticked me. Predicted your odds of returning at more than fifty to one."
"And you sent us anyway?" I said. "Two to one, we were told."
"I was informed that were John to be allowed reentry into his pre-regooded state for the duration, that was what the readjusted odds would become. So did I have a choice? These decisions aren't overnighters, Isabel. My concern for you led him astray, Isabel. I apologize for that."
"What about what I was given-?"
"Isabel, please. If Melaway produced the tumor, and that remains unproven, then I regret it and all that remains to be said is, it's treated. We have to move on."
There was neither reason to believe nor disbelieve what he told me; his tales readapted themselves to circumstance the moment they left his mouth. Once, during our trip's preparation, I was awared of a particular theory regarding parallel worlds, one holding that whenever a person made any decision, or performed any chosen action, the immediate result was to create at that moment a new, literal world in which all thereafter occurred differently than it would have, had any other choice been made. The concept of such ongoing frac- talization of existence befuddled me, but the notion that Leverett made for himself and all around him a fresh reality with his every passing thought homed the theory as nothing else could.
"As for John," he continued, "his suspension will end once I've convinced Madam to agree. It was at her insistence, you know. She feels so strongly about regooding she's not always ..." He tapped the side of his head with his finger. "I'll handle. Don't worry."
"I won't," I said, conscious of my husband's reinstatement tucked inside my bag, secluded amid wallet and mirrors and the compact Judy had given me; I estimated I'd lipstill, to wait and see how Leverett might develop this fantasy he proffered. "Where's E? Let's let him see me."
"We have him secured," he said. "It essentialled. Since you've been hospitaled he's lost all control. Sabotaging our program. Insisting upon singing as he wishes, appearing as he wants. His role's a given but he refuses to take it."
"He can't be presented as he is?"
"There're complications," Leverett said. "And even though he's facialed right, and his voice matches if not betters, he and the image aren't coinciding."
"To your mind, mayhap. Elvii might believe differently. You yourself said they'd see him as they want-"
"But they need to see him as we want," he said. "He's nonresponsive to that. You're needed, Isabel. You can keep him online." Leverett sighed as he eyed me updown again, frowning at my rehued features, my short black hair. "You could before, at any rate. You should reconsider, Isabel-"
"Reconsider what? Even if I wanted to I wouldn't take Melaway again-"
"No connection is proven," he said. "Reapplication of the treatment shouldn't be ruled out so hastily-"
"It is," I said. "Where is he?"
"Two doors down. Come on. Let's hope he's glad to see you."
Leverett preceded me as we hailed ourselves. I thought it odd that I'd not noticed before that he was shorter than me; then, studying his stance, I realized that his slump had greatened in the months since the project underwayed. While his fac
e remained stained with youth, his body showed every day of his years. We asided the guards, gently pushing them back until they came to rest against the walls alongsiding the door. "Alone, Leverett," I said. "I want to see him alone. Don't come in until I say."
"Agreed," he said, rapping knuckles against the door. "Elvis? Someone's here to see-"
"Let me outta here!" E shouted back. "I've had it with this. I've had it-"
"What's being done to him?" I asked. "Leverett-"
"Seclusion, nothing more," he said. "Allowing him time to think."
"Get me out!" E cried again. "I can't stand-"
Leverett stepped away, that I might enter; laying his hand on the nearby panel, he pressed the door's opener, and it slid away. The windowless room they had him in lacked furniture, save one chair. The moment I heard the topvolumed soundtrack issuing from the ceiling's speakers I realized what was being done to E. During Elvis's final years, in his Old Pretender phase, an album was released that contained nothing but stage remarks offhandedly muttered between songs in concert, tossed out to his audiences while he tried, seemingly, to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. No preserved text of the King was so beloved by most sects of the C of E, save the most fundamental, as these mumbles; no other album in his oeuvre was so torturous for the nonbeliever to hear.
"Well," Elvis was saying, sixty years earlier. "Well well well well well."
The jumpsuit they had E wearing was Dryco yellow, of shining fabric fused and cut along trad lines. The outfit's padding thickened his waist until he appeared thirty kilos heavier; his belt looked to weigh so much as I did, and fastened with a buckle guised with the look of our logo. His suit's pantslegs widened so below his knees as to hide his shoes, the collar rose so high as his crown; E appeared to be badly waterproofed, and beginning to shrink. Not even Elvis had ever looked so ridiculous.
"Look at these little red things," said Elvis.
"They've clowned you," I started to say to E; paused as I grasped the degree of his own disconcertion. "It's me." As he wordlessly mouthed, attempting to speak, I readied to hear anything he might call me, thinking nothing much could hurt, issuing from such a figure; thinking that at this point, nothing much from anyone could hurt. "You've cattongued. Talk."