Brain Plague

Chrys blinked hard. 'Just make it go away.'

Rose said, 'Get closer, to meet the eyes.'

Meeting those eyes was the last thing Chrys wanted. Steeling herself, she moved forward, at once repelled yet ashamed at herself for adding to the poor creature's misery.

The stench of the victim overwhelmed her; her stomach contracted. His labored breath rasped louder, faster. Another step closer, and its eyes chanced to meet hers. For one long moment, Chrys saw the creature as a human being, the human it would have been before it sank so low.

A shriek split the air. The bloated head turned, tucked under an arm, as if lasers had put out its eyes. Then the creature picked up its feet and slowly shuffled away.

Unnerved, Chrys shook so hard she could barely move. The cheerful lights of the soup kitchen beckoned. She turned slowly, her thoughts full.

As she walked back, she thought she heard faint footsteps behind her, quicker than her own. Her head turned to look.

The creature had changed its mind and come back. This time it moved with surprising speed, as if with all its last strength. The horror froze her for a moment; then she turned to run. In the darkness, she stumbled on the curb and fell.

As she picked herself up, the creature lunged toward her. Instinctively, she raised an arm before her face. The vampire caught her arm. With a cry, she flung the creature from her. It fell in a contorted heap on the street, completely still. The street was dark and eerily silent.

But its teeth had sunk into her arm. The wound stung, as she frantically wiped it of blood mingled with the creature's saliva. Trillions of fanatic microbes lay dying with their host, but a lucky, deadly few had made it to their next victim.

'Plan Ten, Emergency,' she blinked, brushing the tangled hair from her face. She sprinted for home.

'Mayday—Capture invaders,' flashed Aster.

'Get them all in dendrimers, every one.' The medic would exterminate them.

'There are too many; and they're hiding all over your body. We don't even know their language. Set Rose free to help translate.'

A ringing tone filled her head, like an internal smoke alarm.

'They've reached the forbidden zone.' Where Poppy had gone; the alarm that should have gone off. Instead, Chrys had awoke in that hospital, bones burning with pain.

'Can't you stop them, like Fern did?'

'We're trying to find them, but that region has a billion neurons. '

She reached her house. The stairs carried her up between the caryatids. At the top, she stumbled. Her mind clouded over, and the room receded.

In her mind opened a window, a new kind of window, vast as the universe. All the lights of heaven flooded in. The light lifted her onto a lava stream of pleasure and desire. It was the first kiss of her boyfriend, swooning amid the campion on the mountainside; and it was her first taste of Topaz, her mind spinning amid all the colored lights of Iridis. It was ten times more than that, every inch of skin crying out for more yet, until the colors grew and merged into blinding endless light.

Abruptly, the light clouded over. Her surroundings somehow were gray—the banisters, the ceiling, the caryatids, even Xenon's new furniture. Her feet sank like lead, glued to the floor, which now seemed unaccountably dirty and verminous, though when she looked hard she saw nothing. Her skin felt covered with slime that would not rub off.

'We found them, Oh Great One,' said Aster. 'We captured the masters before they caused permanent damage.'

The master micros; they had tried to take her over. The thought left her shaking. And yet... where was that place they sent her? Was there no way back?

Below, at the foot of the spiral stairs, two medics arrived. 'You're on record as a carrier,' said one worm-face, as if reciting a history.

'We'll check you out,' said the other, 'but we can't touch the micros till your agent arrives.'

Her skin was starting to recover, but her head ached, and her stomach felt unsettled. She sat down in the kitchen, in case she needed the sink.

The limb of a worm-face slapped a bandage on her arm, then its tendrils sank into her scalp, pressing more roughly than Doctor Sartorius. 'Disgusting,' he or she muttered. 'Why don't you let us just clear them out?'

'Some lifestyle,' the other medic remarked.

'Great One, these nanos are unfriendly,' flashed Aster. 'Please, Great One; don't let them hurt us. We did our best; we caught all the invaders we could find.'

'Look,' said the medic, 'why do you put up with this? We could clean you out completely.'

'You're on Plan Ten,' said the other. 'You could live forever. Instead, you're a menace to society.'

Chrys glared back. These medics sounded like Sapiens. Maybe they'd burnt her cat.

The first medic waved its worms smoothly, in a motion meant to be pleasing. 'If you want to feel good, we have ways. We can shape your mind however you please, just as we shape your body.'

Mind-suckers. Chrys sketched the handsign against evil.

Xenon chimed for a new arrival. There stood Daeren, at the foot of the caryatids. Chrys sighed with relief.

'She's been exposed,' the worm-face told Daeren as he came up the stairs. 'We have to file a report.'

'Section oh-three-five-one,' Daeren agreed. 'If you're done, please wait outside.'

The medics hesitated, obviously reluctant to give up their patient, but they finally packed in their worms.

Daeren put a patch at his neck. 'Next time, call us first, the purple button,' he advised Chrys. 'We make sure they send the right medics.' For some reason, his eyes seemed to blink brighter than usual. Pulling back her tangled hair, Chrys squinted, unable to look straight.

'Oh Great One, we don't need testing today. It's all under control.'

'If it's under control,' Chrys told them, 'you have nothing to worry about.'

Daeren pulled up a chair. 'Try and relax, Chrys,' he told her. 'Can you keep your eyes open?'

Chrys held her eyes open. The blue rings round his eyes flashed furiously.

'That's better.' He held out the transfer patch.

'No, no!' begged Jonquil. 'Not today— another generation.'

'We're too busy. We can't see blue angels today.'

Chrys frowned. 'Why are they afraid?'

Daeren held out the patch. 'Don't keep the blue angels waiting.'

'God of Mercy, they'll kill all the new children.'

'Is that true?' Chrys asked. 'You'll kill all the vampire's children?'

His voice quickened. 'Chrys, I can't answer that. You have to take the patch.'

'Just answer my question.'

'If you don't take the patch, you're a slave. Those medics out there will wipe you clean. Section oh-three —'

'Promise me you won't kill anyone.'

He threw up his hands. 'I'm the last one to want to kill them; you know that. But I can't make a promise I won't keep. I don't yet know what I'll find.' He took a deep breath. 'Chrys—for god's sake, take the patch.'

'So instead of their slave, I'm yours?'

For a moment every tendon stood on his neck. Several different thoughts seemed to cross his face. 'All right,' he said in a monotone. 'I promise.'

She put the patch at her neck. The minutes passed. Daeren's hair over his amber-colored forehead reminded her of Moraeg. The Seven; how she missed them all.

Suddenly, he sank back and relaxed, satisfied by the signals his investigators sent out her eye. 'Your Eleutherians are okay. Just tell them to quit hiding the vampire's children—I don't care what their math scores