Jane Doesn't Save the World

by Erin Grey

  “Gee, woman,” said Sandy. “What did you do to make the universe hate you so much?”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” said Jasper. “Accidents are unpredictable; they are not controlled by the universe.” His voice turned reproachful. “She was not as focused on her steps as she ought to have been.”

  “Oh,” worried Gwendolyn. “I should have paid attention.”

  “Hurts,” sobbed Mitch. “Really, really hurts. Help.”

  Footsteps resounded across the hard floor, and a hand landed on my shoulder. “Ye godes!” said Zhian. “What happened?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the ache to stop.

  “Jane,” said Zhian close to my ear, “can you hear me?”

  I nodded weakly, head scraping against the cold floor.

  “Where does it hurt?” Zhian asked. His fingers fluttered from my head to my shoulders to my arm.

  “Everywhere.” I pushed my nails into my palm. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Your body is in shock,” said Zhian. “Did you hit your head?”

  >BIOS Active_

  >Warning! Cassis unstable!

  >Scanning cassis_

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m going to feel for breaks.” His touch became firm as he pressed along my arm. “Where is the most pain?”

  >Pain detected_

  >Lower cassis damaged_

  “Legs,” I said. “No—feet.”

  Zhian felt down my legs, starting at the knees. When he reached the outside of my right foot, about two thirds from the pinky toe, I cried out.

  “There must be a break there,” he said. “Do you think you can stand if I help you up?”

  “Mm-mm,” I whimpered, shaking my head.

  Idesta came down the stairs. “Oh, Aphroditia! Why is she lying on the floor?”

  “Didn’t you hear the crash?” asked Zhian.

  “Did she hit her head?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Zhian. “Help me get her over to the couch.”

  Idesta lifted my legs, while Zhian rolled me over and got an arm under my back and knees. He carried me into the lounge area and laid me across a couch while Idesta got a pillow under my feet. I winced as they came to rest on the cushion.

  “Right,” said Zhian, shoving pillows behind my back to raise me slightly. “How does that feel?”

  The ringing in my ears intensified to the point where I was convinced someone was deliberately playing a high frequency sound effect. My body shook. Zhian stroked my arm and made soothing noises.

  “How did she fall down the stairs?” Idesta asked. “Does she have some kind of spatial problem?”

  “Don’t be unkind,” said Zhian.

  “I’m not!” retorted Idesta. “I don’t know anything about these Earth women. It’s not like I’m the one who’s been ogling them for lunations.”

  “I wasn’t ogling anyone,” growled Zhian.

  “Well, I don’t know what you were thinking bringing one of them here, putting us both in danger,” Idesta shouted. “It’s only a matter of time before she’s found. And then we’ll end up in prison, or worse.”

  “No one is going to prison,” said Zhian. “Now, can you please fetch a blanket or something? She’s freezing from the shock.”

  Idesta stomped out loud enough for me to hear every footfall, and a door slammed. The ringing faded away, and I opened my eyes.

  “There she is,” said Zhian. “How’s the head?”

  “I feel a bit dizzy. And it hurts here.” I pointed to the side of my forehead.

  Zhian touched the place. “There’s some swelling starting.” He looked down at my feet. “There, too. I’m fairly certain there’s a break in the minus quinpollicem. Broken bones bleed, so there will be a fair amount of swelling and bruising.”

  “The minus qui-what?” My mind was too blurry to make sense of the medical-style picture the translator was flashing in my head.

  “It’s the long bone that starts at the base of your toe and reaches up to here,” he answered, running his finger along the side of my foot to indicate where the bone started and ended.

  “He must be referring to the fifth metatarsal bone,” interjected Jasper. “That would explain the audible crack.”

  “How do you know all that?” I asked Zhian.

  He cleared his throat. “I studied medicine.” He let his hand fall from my foot. “Still do, in fact.”

  “Does this mean I won’t be able to walk?” I put a hand to my forehead, then winced as it touched the rapidly forming lump there.

  “You should be able to walk a little if we bandage it well,” replied Zhian. “The pain will settle within a few hours. I’ll bring you something for it in the meantime.”

  “This is such a disaster,” I moaned. “I need to get home!”

  Zhian frowned as he left the room, but didn’t say anything. He brought me a concoction that smelled faintly of turpentine. The bitterness made me suck in my cheeks and screw up my face, but it wasn’t long before the warmth of it spread through my body, erasing all traces of shock and soreness. As I relaxed into the couch cushions, Zhian wrapped something soft and stretchy around my foot.

  “This should stop you from jarring it while you sleep,” he said. Then he squeezed my hand. “Try not to worry so much. I’ll sort things out for you.”

  “‘Sort things out’ is not the same as ‘get you home immediately’,” warned Sandy as Zhian left the room. “I wouldn’t settle for that.”

  “Why now?” whined Mitch. “Pain and more pain. Too difficult. Just die.”

  “Oh, don’t say that!” cried Gwendolyn.

  “Need I remind you that a disappearance without a body would defeat the entire purpose of the plan to save—” began Jasper.

  “Yeah, yeah, we get it,” said Sandy. “The whole thing sucks, but it’s not a reason to give up getting home. We just have to keep working on Zhian. He’s holding out on us; I can tell.”

  “Emmy not tired. Emmy wanna” —Emmy yawned— “wanna …”

  * * *

  I woke to the sound of Zhian setting a board of food and drink on the pedestal next to the couch.

  “Do you need help sitting up?” he asked.

  I lifted myself and squeaked as pain shot through my foot. Zhian lifted the coverlet he’d placed over me while I slept and pushed pillows under my legs. “You’ll need to keep them up. Hungry?”

  I nodded. The food smelled good, like fresh-baked bread. I bit into a soft flat triangle. The chewy, glutinous fibres dissolved on my tongue. “You’re not eating?”

  Zhian put up a hand. “I’ve eaten. How’s the foot?”

  “The painkillers help a lot.” Heat crept into my cheeks. “I still can’t believe I was so clumsy. I create one problem after another for you.”

  “No, don’t say that.”

  “It’s true, though. So long as I’m here, you’re not safe. Like Idesta said, if the wrong people find me, you’re in big trouble. What if I have a worse accident or get seriously ill? You’d have to get medical help and then I’d be exposed.”

  He shrugged and handed me a cup of something hot that whiffed of bergamot. “I’ve managed to take care of you so far.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  He frowned. “You don’t need to worry about that. It’s my power to heal.”

  “What?”

  “It’s the energy I have. I can help healing.”

  “He’s a superhero!” exclaimed Gwendolyn.

  “Here-wo,” giggled Emmy, clapping her hands.

  “I don’t think so,” said Sandy sceptically. “Heroes don’t usually keep captives.”

  “He’s not keeping us captive,” argued Gwendolyn. “He’s helping us.”

  “Maybe can heal us?” said Mitch hopefully.

  “You can heal people? Magically?” I winced at how Mitch’s naiveté had taken over my word choice.

  “No, it’s not magic,” said Zhian. He t
ook a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. “It’s the type of energy I have. If I direct it towards a person, I can enhance the healing capacity of their body.”

  “So, you could heal my foot right now?”

  “Not completely. I can manipulate the body’s repair and recovery processes—make them more efficient, speed them up.” He leaned towards my feet and pulled away the coverlet. “May I?”

  “Go right ahead,” I said.

  He gently unwrapped the bandage and placed his hands over the swelling. A warm sensation flowed into my skin and then deeper, through tissue and tendon, into bone. It fizzed, bubbled, boiled, as if cells were going into overdrive.

  “Wait—is this what you were trying to do on the ship? When I had the cramps?”

  His lips tilted up at one end. “Yes. But you did not allow me to touch you for long enough, so I doubt I had much effect.”

  I smiled self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand, and it felt really weird. You touching me there.”

  Zhian nodded.

  “Seriously, he could have told us all this at the time,” said Sandy. “It would have made it a lot less weird.”

  “Maybe he gets shy,” said Gwendolyn.

  Zhian let out a long exhale and removed his hands.

  “So, it’s all better now?” I wiggled my toes and winced.

  “No, there is too much involved in repairing a bone,” he answered, carefully re-wrapping the bandage. “But, if I do that every couple of hours, it will mend in only a few days, instead of a few weeks.”

  “Can everyone on Eorthe do that?”

  “Only a small number. It is a rare energy that requires some training to use correctly.”

  “That’s why you studied medicine.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “You look so surprised. But you have characters with healing powers in your TV shows and films.”

  “Yes, but I never expected to meet one in real life.” I put down my empty cup. “Do you help a lot of people then? Healing them?”

  His face darkened. He reached for my dishes. “Have you had enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thank you. Was it wrong of me to ask that? Have I offended you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not you.” He shook his head again, but this time it looked as though he was shaking a memory or a thought out of focus. “I’ll come back later.”

  14

  The Myth of Asclepius

  When a great plague did curse the surface of the ground, then did arise Asclepius of Epidermus—gode of healing and wellbeing, and the administering of medicine for a cure. Many were those who did seek his way, but few did find and follow it. Those who came to the power and the knowledge became known as Theraputae—wielders of healing energy and upholders of health.

  Thus was the plague quelled, and thus did the ways of healing become known. Asclepius did bestow the gift of healing and the learning of it upon mankind. And a warning he did give:

  First, do no harm.

  15

  The bit about ferrets and hookers

  Zhian didn’t want me to move back upstairs until he was certain the fracture had time to knit, so I was confined to the couch in the sitting room. Jasper insisted I obey and stay put, while Sandy was totally suspicious of being prevented from moving around freely. Without the support of my meds or the distraction of activity, guilt welled up from the Deep Dark and overwhelmed Mitch: guilt over how my family must be worrying, guilt that I wouldn’t be able to save them, guilt about what I had planned to do to myself and how much it would hurt them.

  The world darkened, and the voices turned on each other. It was just as well I had a reason to stay on the couch, because all Mitch wanted to do was sleep. The nagging of the other voices only spiked his anxiety, which made me exhausted and him even more guilty over not being able to do anything.

  “Your foot’s not that bad,” said Sandy when we were alone6. “If we really had to, we could sneak out the window. I mean, that car thing didn’t look too difficult to drive. And I’m sure I could find the way back to Ric. Maybe if we stole something really valuable from this house, we could pay him to get us back.”

  “Won’t work,” said Mitch. “Can’t.”

  “Zhian promised to help,” said Gwendolyn. “And I don’t want to climb out the window.”

  “Once Ric discovered Jane’s origin, he was reluctant to help,” said Jasper. “It is not advisable to approach him again. We must trust that Zhian will be true to his word, as he has been until this moment. However, time is running out, therefore we must spur him to action.”

  “Action is hard,” said Mitch. “Too tired.”

  “Wanna go home,” sniffed Emmy. She got uncomfortable and shy around Zhian, and became very, very quiet.

  Occasionally, Idesta popped in to look for Zhian or complain about the lack of interesting news.

  “My slab is quieter than a Synpese who’s been asked how he’s feeling.” Disgusted, she threw herself and her hexagonal tablet device on the couch next to mine. “I hate it when dkdkdkdkdklr is quiet.”

  A wild flurry of small furry creatures, half-naked men, poor spelling, and cat videos burst through my head at the unknown word. “What?”

  “Dkdkdkdkdklr. It’s really quiet today.”

  “What is that? My translator is going berserk.”

  “Huh, weird. It’s this thing where people can share news. It means …” she clicked her fingers, perhaps hoping that an answer would magically appear, “… the accumulated noises from a vast array of disagreeing mustelids. Yeah, that’s what the word means.”

  “Mustelids?” said Jasper. “As in ferrets?”

  “Look.” Idesta lifted her hexagonal slab and showed me the face of it. Tiny worm-like creatures wriggled beneath a layer of glass—or some similar transparent material—and I jerked away.

  “Ew, I can’t stand worms!” squealed Gwendolyn.

  “Khan stan werm!” mimicked Emmy. “Wanna chock-lit!”

  “What the hell are those things?” I asked, voice strangled and high-pitched.

  Idesta laughed. “It’s ok, it’s just the cristallums. They change colour and shape depending on the signals they get. That’s how you can see stuff on the screen.”

  She waved her hand over the surface of the device and regarded it intently. The cristallums wiggled into position, and I found myself looking at a mixture of runes and pictures.

  I clutched my blanket tighter. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, it’s something to do with their natural defence against predators. They sense what the predator wants and make themselves look like something unappetizing. But these have been modified to respond to commands from the device and the user instead. The slab is connected to the Knit, so I can see what other people are dooking on Dkdkdkdkdklr.”

  “Hey, can we shorten that word for the sake of my brain?” I begged. “The translator has a meltdown every time you say it. How about Dooklr?”

  “Sure, whatever,” she said.

  “And what is the Knit?”

  “The Knit. The Weave. It’s the thing that connects everyone. You can access it through a slab or another hooker—what?”

  I was coughing, choking on my own spit after inhaling at Mach two. There was no mistaking what the translator had flashed into my head.

  “It’s whatever you use to hook into the weave,” continued Idesta. “Oh, wait … I think I know what happened. ‘Hooker’ had a different meaning about a hundred annums ago. I’m surprised the translator showed you that.”

  “It seems to pick up on things I’ve already seen and heard and display those,” I said. “A lot of Caruthian sounds like Latin, and I think the translator is latching onto that.”

  “I don’t know what Latin is, but weird,” said Idesta. “Anyway, if you connect to the Knit and go to Dooklr, you can see the latest news and dooks from people in your chain. Oh, look at this!” She thrust the slab in my face, but I couldn’t understand any of the runes in front of m
e.

  “What language is that?” I asked, pushing the worm-laden tablet away from me with a finger. “Caruthian?”

  “Yes, it’s the most commonly used language on the Knit, so I’ve set my slab to translate to that.”

  “I can’t read it.”

  “Oh, of course.” She smirked. “I forgot you’re completely helpless. I’ll read it to you.”

  “Bitch,” grumbled Sandy.

  “Bish!”

  “Emmy, you mustn’t say things like that, sweetie,” Gwendolyn scolded. “Sandy, you’re teaching her bad language.”

  “Wanna sweetie?”

  I couldn’t fault Emmy for her opportunism.

  “’Conservationists outraged as restrictions on hog poaching lifted,’” read Idesta. She shook her head. “That’s dumb. Lifting the restrictions makes perfect sense. Hogs are delicious. Ooh, and check out these comments …”

  Idesta flopped onto her tummy and read headlines from her slab while I wished for her to go away so I could close my eyes and sink into oblivious sleep.

  Sandy gave me a mental poke. “Ask her about space travel. Maybe there are ships that can land on Earth. Or maybe she knows something else that can help us escape.”

  “She scares me,” said Mitch.

  “I’m not saying become her best friend,” snapped Sandy. “We need to look into any possibility for escape. Idesta knows Jane’s from Earth but hasn’t turned her in yet. So, she’s the perfect person to pump for information.”

  “Um, Idesta?” I asked, sitting up and pushing a cushion behind my back.

  “Uh-huh,” said Idesta as she stared intently at her tablet.

  “Have you ever been on Zhian’s spaceship?”

  Idesta’s eyes jumped away from the screen to meet mine through narrowed lids. Her lip twitched. “That’s not a euphemism for something, is it?” she asked.

  “No! No!” I spluttered as my cheeks heated. “I’m asking about his ship—the one that brought me here. I wanted to know if you’d ever flown on it, been in space.”

  Her eyes relaxed slightly. “Sort of,” she answered. “I’ve been on the ship, but not in space.”