Interlibrary Loan

by Gene Wolfe

  “Biology says that living things grow and reproduce. You see the difficulties, I hope.”

  I took a chance and said it seemed pretty narrow.

  “It does not merely seem narrow, it is narrow. A hen lays a fertile egg. Is that egg alive?”

  I said no, that it was the chick inside that was alive.

  “A good answer. Let us assume that the chick hatches and in time becomes a hen. That hen lays more fertile eggs. Hasn’t the egg we began with reproduced?”

  I thought that one over. “I don’t think so. The hen’s reproducing, not the egg. Besides, the egg hasn’t grown.”

  “Nicely reasoned. I suppose you know how viruses reproduce?”

  I shook my head.

  “They move into living cells and alter the mechanisms of those cells so that they produce viruses. That is, they produce viruses of the same kind, the kind that reprogrammed them. The viruses don’t grow larger, only more numerous.”

  “I’ve got it. According to the rule, viruses aren’t alive, but we know they are.”

  “Exactly. Let’s not dawdle around trying to produce a better rule. I say that those undecayed corpses are alive. I say it, and I have proved it. In some cases, the heart still beats, like the heart of the cadaver Peggy opened. The heart beats very, very slowly. Perhaps one beat in a week. In others, it does not beat at all. It would be entirely reasonable to assume that the difference is of great importance. In point of fact, it is not.”

  “The frozen people…” I let it trail off, not sure what I wanted to say.

  “The great majority of them are truly dead, in the sense that they cannot be returned to life.” Dr. Fevre hesitated. “At least not by me. Perhaps another, knowing more than I, might do it. Possibly I myself will be that other in ten years, or twenty.”

  I asked, “How can you tell?”

  “Without trying? I can’t tell for sure. I look for bodies that show no signs of injury, no knife-thrust now hidden by a new shirt, no damage to the skull, no sign of disease now more or less disguised, no obvious cancers. When I find such a body, I attempt to revive it. More often than not, I fail. Occasionally, I succeed.”

  I said, “What about old people?”

  Dr. Fevre shook his head. “What would be the point? A heart that has failed will soon fail again. These girls? I examined both carefully, and could not discover the cause of death. Clearly then, they were ideal subjects.”

  “They died, just the same.”

  “Of course. The freezing point of seawater is lower than the freezing point of freshwater. Did you know that?”

  I shook my head.

  “It is. Ice floating on the sea is most often the result of rain or snow—freshwater—falling upon seawater not cold enough to freeze. Someone may have thrown these girls into the sea.” Dr. Fevre paused. “People say that God is dead, by which they mean that religion is dead in the modern world. Religion, we now discover, is delicate stuff. Superstition is tougher.”

  “You think they were sacrificed.”

  He shook his head. “No, I think they may have been. Beautiful girls, virgins of fifteen or sixteen? Many cults might consider such girls ideal sacrifices. Later their friends or relatives may have stumbled upon their bodies washed up on a beach, or found them floating in the freezing sea. They carried them home and interred them decently in an ice cave thirty or twenty or ten years ago.”

  I whistled. “I was thinking hundreds of years.”

  “I doubt it. Their breasts would have been covered then.”

  An hour or so later, Chandra returned with Peggy and Audrey. Audrey, who was pretty well terrified of it, returned the green box (I’ll have a lot more about that later) to me; and we left pretty soon after I got that squared around. There were no spare coats for Ricci and Idona, or for Sven either. The angels wrapped themselves in blankets; Sven signed that he was okay the way he was.

  Outside it had started to snow again, so we waited in the mouth of the cave until we heard the jingle of sleigh bells. I do not know whether Dr. Fevre had told the driver to come back at a certain time or called him somehow. It was pretty hard imagining that driver with an eephone, but you never can tell.

  All this time, I was itching to get out the map and check to see if the cave mouth was really the rectangle on it, but I did not dare do it with our patron there in the sleigh with us. She did not know I had pulled it out of the book, contrary to orders, and I was still planning to paste it back in the first chance I got.

  12

  SOMETHING YOU DO ON A BOAT

  Maybe I ought to skip over a good many things now, but I am going to give some of them, like the sleigh being pretty crowded going back to the village. I sat on the floor with Ricci on one side of me and Idona on the other. That was to keep me warm, Dr. Fevre said. I hate people who laugh at their own jokes.

  Audrey had a nice, comfortable seat—she sat on my lap. This was one of the few times in my life I’ve enjoyed being uncomfortable. You never know.

  Sometimes the four of us talked, and sometimes it was just Audrey whispering to me, or Ricci, or Idona. Audrey mostly whispered catty things about the two blondes. Ricci told me the story of her life, only without much background and way too many she’s and he’s, and not enough names. She was a sweet kid, and she had always wanted to go south of the island she was born on. I kept telling her that she was there now and not to be fooled by the snow. She said she knew it was someplace different because she could not hear the sea. (Only when we got nearer the village, we could.) Besides—here she glanced at me and looked away—the people were different. Nicer.

  Idona wanted to talk about sex and did. Had I ever done this? Well, how about that? Did I like it? Did the lady like it? Was it true that two girls could do this to each other? How did I know? Had I watched? Well, didn’t I think it was all right for people to watch? Why not? And a whole lot more pretty much like that. Animals and dolls and she used to have a dildo made of walrus ivory. Mostly it had been better than the real thing, only it wasn’t warm and couldn’t kiss her.

  Sometimes I told the truth and sometimes I did not, which was more fun. Of course I was storing up facts and notions all the time. Audrey had been good for sex most nights, but that was bound to stop sooner or later. When it did, would Ricci and Idona be around? And willing? Maybe so—and maybe not.

  Ricci would be cozy and a lot of fun, but hard to get rid of if I ever wanted to get rid of her. Also she would make every guy who saw her jealous, which might get me in a lot of scrapes. Idona would be hell on wheels. Sometimes that means lots of fun in bed, but she would be hell on wheels twenty-four/seven.

  Prof. Peggy Pepper’s flitter seated four, so Dr. Fevre, my patron, Chandra, and Prof. Peggy herself flew back in that. How the rest of us slept on the boat going back doesn’t really matter, but I am going to give it anyway in case you care. Audrey and I had Cabin One, up toward the bow and slept on the bunks there, just like two fully humans would. Ricci and Idona had Cabin Two, and Millie and Rose Cabin Three. None of which matters much.

  The refrigerated bins were full of cadavers, and when I lay awake at night I used to wonder whether any of them were still a little bit alive, and whether those living ones were conscious sometimes or anyway semiconscious. I wanted to open the bins up and have a look, but the boat wouldn’t hear of it. Sure, I had chartered it originally, but I’d signed it over to Dr. Fevre and pocketed the refund. So he was the boss now and an old customer and whatever he said went.

  Millie and Rose joined me at the rail the first morning when I was standing out there alone. All three of us kept quiet at first, looking at the sea and the sky. After a while Rose and Millie started talking, how beautiful it was and how grim, both at the same time.

  So I said, “This is something you do on a boat when you’re out of sight of land—or anyway, that’s how it’s been for me. On land nobody does it.”

  Rose shook her head. “You’ve spent both lives in the city, Ern. Farmers do. In the evening when they
’re tired especially. They lean over on the fence and look up at the sky, the immensity of it and all the sun and rain, all the fog and snow, and all the winds and birds it holds. All the peaceful still days, and wilder storms than city people have ever seen.”

  I asked whether she had lived on a farm.

  “Yes, I did. I—I mean the first me—was a farmer’s daughter, just like the girl in a thousand dirty jokes.” Rose smiled, a secret, private smile. “I wrote and wrote when my mother thought I was doing my homework.”

  Millie said, “You were, in a way.”

  “I suppose. Then after I got out of school, I wrote when my folks were asleep. I wrote five books, and then the next one sold. That was Across Magic River. It sold, and I was so proud! But I didn’t tell my folks until I got the advance. Then I showed them. Nobody laughs at a writer with a check.”

  I wanted to know if they had tried to take her money.

  “No, but they told me how to spend it. No matter what they said, I never promised I would. I’d just nod and say I could see where that might be a good idea.” Rose laughed. “What I really did was buy a nice new dress that looked romantic and get my hair done, and have my picture taken. The publisher hadn’t asked for a picture, but I decided he might next time. He did, and I sent that one.”

  I said I would like to see it.

  “So would I. I haven’t seen it. Not this edition of me, I mean. I’ve looked in the library, looked every place I could think of.”

  Millie said, “You should hire a detective. I know a good one, and he works cheap.”

  “You mean Ern.”

  “What you really need,” I told her, “is a librarian.”

  Rose nodded thoughtfully. “We’re going back to that little library in Polly’s Cove, aren’t we?”

  Millie said, “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “It’s old,” I told Rose, “and small. Small libraries like that one often keep things that larger libraries would throw out.”

  “Such as my books.”

  “And mine.” I shrugged.

  “Oh, they wouldn’t dare!” She was being kind, and I knew it and blessed her for it in my thoughts.

  Millie said, “It’s not much of a life, being a library resource.”

  Rose shook her head. “Don’t let them hear you say that. They’ll burn you.”

  Millie ignored it. “Do you know what part I liked?”

  I said, “I can’t guess. What was it?”

  “Cooking with our hostess in that cozy cottage in the village. That’s what Dr. Fevre checked me out for, and of course the library would never have permitted it if they’d known.”

  Rose said, “Must I tell what he got me for? Really, do either of you want me to?”

  I said, “I’m not curious, Rose.”

  “You mean you know already. He’s got Ricci and Idona for that now.”

  Millie put in, “Plus Peggy, that fully human girl.”

  “Plus Peggy. Right.”

  “Which must be why Ricci and Idona are here on the boat with us.” Millie looked thoughtful. “He was afraid they’d make a scene.”

  “Huh!” Rose was disgusted. “He’s afraid Idona will stick her knife in him.”

  Later I remembered that conversation. It was not important, but I couldn’t have forgotten it if I had tried.

  13

  THE CHEAP DETECTIVE

  We got back to Polly’s Cove almost a week later than Peggy and the Fevre family. Here I would stop writing if only I could pretend my adventure ended here. The rest gets spooky, and the one-armed edition of me—of your humble narrator, Ern A. Smithe—who cut his own throat was bad enough. Ever since I figured out what must have happened, I’ve known I may kill myself someday. I don’t like it, but I know it’s the truth. The thing that I will never do is leave a record like this incomplete. If I’m going to tell my story—and I have already told a lot of it—then I damn well ought to stay alive long enough to complete it.

  So I’ll try. Here goes.

  Chandra returned Audrey and me to the Polly’s Cove Public Library. We were both overdue, so there were fines to pay, but they were subtracted from the deposit and just shaved the edge.

  Did we mind being returned? Audrey did and it showed, so Chandra kindly checked her out again. I was happy to be back on a library shelf. For years I had wanted to have a real adventure, something truly interesting, complicated, and astonishing, during all those quiet days when I had stood untouched and tried to remember the ins and outs of Shasta the Cougar or whatever.

  All right, my adventures had come and they had been the real thing, but they were over and done with. Now it was time for me to think about them from 360 angles, how things had looked and how they had sounded. The smell of the sea, and the taste of the various things I’d eaten during those wildly shining days. Would I have put all of them in my books if I could? That was something I thought about a lot; you are holding the answer. I’ve been scribbling away, and I’m trying.

  Then Chandra came in and checked me out for the second time. This time the library did not have to screen Adah. Chandra herself paid the deposit. In cash.

  When we were out of the library I said, “It’s great to see you again.”

  She nodded, no smile and no words.

  “You seem to be serious as all hell.”

  She nodded again and took a deep breath. “We need you. The rest of them might not agree with me, but if they don’t they’re wrong.”

  I thought that one over and said, “Let’s start here. You’re in the money. Where did you get it?”

  “From my father’s stash.”

  “Dr. Fevre’s?”

  Chandra nodded, her lips clamped shut.

  “He gave it to you?”

  “It would take me a long time to explain, Mr. Smithe, and that part’s not important.” Her eyes were bright with tears, and she was starting to sniffle.

  I said, “I’m not going to cross-examine you, Chandra. When you’re ready to tell me why you want me, and whatever else matters—”

  “I hardly knew him!” It was blurted out. “He was my father and I maybe talked to him a couple of times, but he—he…”

  “He was your father. Are we talking about Dr. Fevre?”

  She nodded miserably.

  I said, “Now something bad’s happened. We don’t have to talk about it now.”

  “I want to! I have to!”

  “And I want to get back to the Spice Grove Public Library,” I said. “Sometimes we just have to wait.”

  We had left the Polly’s Cove Library by then and were on our way up the hill, headed toward Adah’s high white house with the widow’s walk. It was colder now than it had been when we were threading our way through the floating ice on that fishing boat, and there had been a northwest wind that would freeze your marrow. Now Chandra had a red wool coat that made her look grown-up, and a red wool cap with a big tassel to remind you that she was just a kid. I had one of those see-through dust jackets the libraries give us if we are checked out in winter and have enough sense to ask for one. There is no warmth to them (and no batteries, you bet) but at least they stop the wind and keep our clothes clean. I still wanted a cap; that winter it seemed to me that I had been wanting a cap all my life. Climbing the hill to Adah’s should have warmed me up, at least a little. Possibly it did; if so I didn’t notice it.

  Chandra was wiping her nose. When she finished she said, “He’s dead, Mr. Smithe.”

  “Your father?”

  Miserably, she nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “Nobody knows. That’s why I got you.”

  I thought about it. “You want me to investigate. I’m to identify the guilty party and tell you. If I can, you want me to assemble enough evidence to get a conviction or a confession.”

  “Y-yes.”

  I thought about that, hard. In the first place, as far as I could see there wasn’t one damn thing in it for me. In the second, the killer was probably her
mother; she had sure as hell been the one who had mutilated that earlier edition of me.

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  “Last week. Last Friday.”

  “Is that when it happened, or is it when you found his body?”

  Chandra blew her nose twice. “I’m sorry I’m such a baby, Mr. Smithe.”

  “Your reaction is perfectly natural. If you acted as though your father’s death meant nothing to you, I’d suspect you seriously. Now I don’t.”

  Dabbing at her tears, she nodded.

  “Did you find his body?”

  She shook her head.

  “Who did?”

  “The lady captain.”

  “Audrey? Is that who you mean?”

  A nod. “Captain Hopkins.”

  “You said this was Friday. At about what time?”

  “Just before supper.”

  So three full days, plus a few hours. I thought about that and all the rest until we got to the house. In a big stiff-looking room I would have called a parlor I asked Chandra, “Did your mother find anything else? Anything besides the body?”

  Chandra shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll have to question her, of course.” I was talking mostly to myself. Louder, “Who called the police?”

  Chandra thought about that one. After a few seconds had passed she said, “I think it must have been the house. Mother wanted to keep it quiet.”

  “Is she angry at the house?”

  “I think so, but we don’t talk about it.” Chandra paused. “She went to bed before they came.”

  I nodded. “Still, they must have seen her and talked to her.”

  “Yes.” Chandra sounded wretched. “They did, some of them. They woke her up and everything.”

  For half a minute or more, my forefinger drew circles on the brocade arm of my chair. “What’s the name of the investigating officer?”

  “I don’t know.” This, plainly, was a relief. “It seems like there’s always a new one.”

  “I’ll have to find out about that.”

  Chandra was silent. I don’t believe she spoke again until she had wiped her eyes and blown her nose, a polite little sound like the chug of a toy train; then she said, “He’s gone. I guess you’d like to see … but he’s not here.”