Mind Over Ship

“What are mickeys designed to do?”

“That’s the most secret part. Mickeys aren’t designed to do anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They’re not in security, the military, bloomjumping, accounting, administration, domestic service, gardening, hospitality, or anything else that iterants do.”

“Then what are they for?”

Georgine giggled. “You won’t believe it.”

“What?” Mary and Ellen chorused.

“Pets. They’re designed to be pets.”

Mary and Ellen were duly astonished. “Human pets?” Mary said. “Don’t we have enough animal pets?”

“Ah, but not like these. Mickeys are small and cuddly and very attentive, and they can talk and pretty much take care of themselves. You can go away for a month and not have to worry about them at all.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “Wouldn’t that be like having some guy hanging around the apartment all day, eating all of your food, and never giving you any privacy?”

“Not at all. First, mickeys are really small people and don’t eat very much. And they’re very trainable, like dogs, but independent like cats, and you can train them to behave.”

Mary and Ellen had scores of questions about this new germline, and they talked about it until everyone said they were hungry and they decided to break for lunch. Mary ordered the door to unlock, and immediately the nusses came in. They stopped in amazement to find the three women in bed.

“We’re hungry,” Georgine said. “Take our lunch order.”

“I’ll call an arbeitor to serve you,” the head nuss said.

“Not on your life,” Mary growled. “You will serve us, personally. So write this down.” As Ellen watched without comment, the nuss found a slate, and Mary said, “Bring a cold plate: beef sliced so thin you can see through it, croissants so buttery they smell of clover, bleu cheese from France, feta cheese from Greece, alfalfa sprouts that sprouted within the last hour, baby corn, sliced dill pickles, and black olives stuffed with jalapenos.” She looked at Ellen and Georgine. “That’s what I’m having. What about you guys?”

Georgine laughed. “I’ll have the same, along with baked sourdough crackers with sesame seeds. And little cups of borscht would be nice.”

“Oh, yes, borscht,” Ellen agreed.

“And hummus, not too garlicky, and spinach artichoke dip while you’re at it,” Mary added. “And for dessert, jasmine tea and brownies. That should do it. Got all that?”

The nuss nodded and, together with her sister, left the room.

MARY AND GEORGINE took turns feeding little nibbles of this and that to Ellen while Georgine continued her tale about her mickey pet.

“Just how small are these mickeys?” Mary prompted her.

“I can put mine in my pocket.”

“Impossible!”

“I kid you not.” Georgine took a pickled ear of baby corn from the tray and compared the tiny kernels to Ellen’s fingers. “His fingernails are about this big,” she said, pointing to the smallest kernel.

“And his ears,” she went on, “remind me of Ellen’s.” She tried to touch Ellen’s ear, but the baby hand clamped over it.

“Don’t make fun of my new ears,” she said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Georgine said, tugging the little hand away. “I absolutely adore your ears.”

“They look ridiculous.”

The evangelines laughed. “You’re crazy. They do not,” Mary assured her. “Well, maybe only a little, but give them time.”

“Look here, Mary,” Georgine said. “What do you call this part of the ear, the flappy part?”

“The lobe?”

“No, that’s the part at the bottom.” She tugged Ellen’s earlobe. “The flappy part is called the pinna. I looked it up. Doesn’t she have the most darling pinna?”

“Yes, so fresh. Like a dried apricot.”

“My mickey’s looks just the same!”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. And look here.” She pushed Ellen’s pinna forward to expose the back of her ear. “Most people’s ears — our type included — join to the scalp with just a crease of skin. But Ellen’s has this little like valley area. That’s very rare.”

“What do you call that?”

“I don’t know. I looked it up but couldn’t find it, so I coined my own word. I call it a runnel.”

“A runnel, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“I think runnel is a perfect word.”

“My mickey has runnels too!”

“It’s not fair!”

“I know. I can’t get over it. Sometimes I just look at his runnels for hours while he’s sleeping. But do you know what I really like to do?”

“I’m dying to know.”

“Would you really like to know, Mary?”

“Tell me this instant!”

“What about you, Ellen?”

The woman/child nodded.

“I’ll show you. I like to push his pinna forward like this, exposing the runnel like this, and —” She leaned over and kissed Ellen behind the ear. Ellen closed her eyes and smiled.

“Oh, my God, Georgine, can I try it?”

“Be my guest.”

Mary leaned over Ellen’s large head and kissed her behind her tiny ear and lingered to inhale the doughy scent of her baby skin.

AFTER LUNCH, THE three of them felt like watching a vid or something. They agreed that they didn’t want to watch the novelas that their Leenas were in or any of Burning Daylight’s pictures. In fact, they wanted to watch an oldie, something pre-holo, and they settled on the flatscreen classic Yurek Rutz and the Long Lake Fisherwoman. It featured a trained squirrel named Pepe who bossed the main character around, much like Georgine’s mickey tried to boss her, and it was funnier than any of them remembered.

ELLEN WAS ASLEEP when Cyndee arrived to relieve them. “Good job, Mary,” she whispered. “Good job, Georgine.” She motioned for them to join her in the hallway. “Clarity is holoing in the Map Room. She wants to talk to us.”

“What about?” Georgine said.

“I don’t know. She wanted to wait until we were all together.”

In the Map Room, Ellen’s business partner stood before the ceiling-high globe of Mars. She turned when they entered and zoomed over to them. “Thank you for taking the time,” she said. “How’s Ellen? Those snotty new nurses won’t tell me a thing.”

“She’s been through a rough patch,” Mary said, “but she’ll be all right.”

“Good, good. I’m so glad you three are still on the job. I’m almost afraid to call her in case she tries to quit the business again. Nurse Eisner was keeping me updated, but now she’s gone.”

“I’ll tell the new head nurse to keep you informed.”

“Thank you, Mary, and welcome back. How’s Fred?”

“Fine. He’s fine.” Mary went to the chart table and took a seat. Georgine gave Clarity a look, and they and