Brain Plague

With faith and patience, we'll learn to love even the meanest ones as we do God Herself.'

Red, yellow, green—Chrys shook her head, as if she could clear out the lot of them. 'Go, then, and do so.'

'And the heretics?' asked Jonquil. 'What shall we do with them?'

'Pteris, why can't you stay and make Eleutheria better?'

'Our own god calls us,' said the green one. 'We'll return every year, until you let us go.'

'Not every year. Or there'll be an eclipse of the sun.'

For some seconds the letters vanished. Chrys guessed they all had plenty to say to each other. Then Jonquil asked, 'How often will the god allow?'

'Once a generation.' Chrys sighed, her eyes aching. Microbial rejection.

And today was her own day to be tested. What if the tester heard of Jonquil's little 'visit'?

Her tester now was Pyrite of Azuroth, a nanodesigner from the Comb, who looked even younger than Daeren. Pyrite arrived a few minutes late. 'Sorry,' he apologized, 'I was delayed below. A vendor tried to talk me into a trophy, a giant caterpillar claw.' He smiled, obviously trying to put her at ease; Chrys knew their routine now. 'How are you? Anything I need to know?'

Her heart pounded in her chest. 'They visited a non-carrier,' she forced herself to say.

His brows lifted. 'With children?'

'Certainly not. Just two elders.'

'You let them?'

'My friend insisted. She's upset because the doctor put her way down on the list.'

'I see.' Pyrite nodded. 'Well, let's sit down and have a look.' His irises flashed green, like Opal's. Perhaps his people came from hers. Pyrite nodded again. 'Once you let them explore a 'virgin,' they get all kinds of ideas.'

'I don't understand,' exclaimed Chrys. 'Before, they were perfectly happy with me. They're welcome to visit any other carrier.'

'When humans discover a new habitable planet, what happens?'

Nervously, she clasped her fingers. 'So what can I do?'

'Put up with it. After a few generations they may forget.'

'Not Eleutherians.'

Pyrite thought this over. 'With luck, we may find a recipient soon. But there's a long waiting list for emigration.'

Chrys frowned. 'If there's a waiting list for hosts, as well as emigrants, why not let more go ahead?'

'Both need to meet our standards, and make a good match. The streets have enough slaves already.' Pyrite's eyes defocused, and he nodded again, as if to someone unseen. 'The good doctor wants to know who they visited. We have to check her out.'

Chrys gripped the chair. 'You reported it already?'

'Of course.'

'Moraeg will be furious.'

'She shouldn't be, if she's a serious candidate.'

'Why should she be way down the list?' Chrys wanted to know. 'She's a totally together person. She's been married a hundred years.'

'Is her spouse a candidate?'

'I don't think so.'

Pyrite shook his head. 'We take singles, or couples, but not half a couple. Too many problems.'

'That's hardly fair,' Chrys exclaimed.

'Maybe not, but we can't afford mistakes.'

Chrys sighed. Another old friend lost.

Pyrite leaned forward. 'Are you the real 'Azetidine'? The one who does the portraits?'

She smiled, recalling her provocative signature. 'I'm afraid so.'

'Awesome,' he exclaimed. 'Could I have your autograph? I mean, after my two months testing you.'

Over the next two days, the would-be emigrants kept their word, asking each night for their Promised World. The rest seemed happy as usual, and Jonquil was thrilled to help her new compositions. But now each day ended with sadness.

The day came for her to test Lord Garnet, with Daeren's help, of course. Daeren stopped at her studio, where her painting stage displayed her latest work in progress, a couple of children in a nightclub hung with luminescent proteins. As he turned to watch, Chrys stole a look at him, his deltoids nicely filled out, a pleasing valley between the shoulder blades.

Daeren nodded. 'I like that one best.' He turned to her. 'Are you ready? Remember to sell off your investments.'

Her investment with Garnet had grown considerably. 'I'm not sure I can afford to,' she realized. 'I just gave Xenon a raise.'

'You'll just have to work for a living.'

They started up the street toward the Hyalite complex. One of the neighbors had a new grillwork of stunplast, forming pretty stars and moons with an angel on top. Chrys took care to avoid a touch. 'Are you sure I'm still allowed?' she asked. 'My people got in trouble.'

'Don't let them do it again,' Daeren warned. 'If they had smuggled children in, they'd all be dead.'

'They know better.'

'Do the would-be emigrants give you a hard time?'

'Only once a day.'

Daeren smiled, and his dark hair glinted lava in the sunlight. 'Just like Fern, and the one I couldn't see.' Fern and Poppy—she could imagine. It seemed so long ago, yet it was only a few months. 'You did a good job the other night,' Daeren added. 'The Committee was pleased.'

She realized he meant Pearl. 'How is she doing?'

'She's making progress. She's lucky to have a caring partner.'

'That's for sure,' Chrys exclaimed. 'If anything real bad ever happened to me, I don't know what I'd do.'

'Chrys, you know we'd always help you.'

'It's not the same,' she said. 'Not like .. . having a friend.' Her eyes filled and she quickly looked away. The devil take Topaz, and those stupid emigrants, and whoever else.

Ahead, before Garnet's house, stood the first pair of golden caryatids. Their style had altered subtly since her previous visit. Each caryatid had its own pose, one carrying a platter of grapes, another a glass of wine. She could not help admiring the artfulness of each pose, the way the gown draped over the ankle. Even Xenon could learn a few tricks here.

At the end of the colonnade they faced the door with its cornucopia of gems. Seeing them approach, the door came alive. 'Please, friends,' begged the door. 'We've so much to share.'

Without thinking Chrys looked down at the gems.

'Chrys ...' warned Daeren behind her.

She remembered. Straightening her back, she gave the door a murderous glare.

'Very well,' sighed the door. 'Just remember—all that's gold doesn't glitter.'

Inside, they were met by a chorus of birds, their plumage like a rainbow. The hall had redone itself in decorative panels topped with finials. Lord Garnet smiled. 'Please excuse our door, I'll have a talk with him.' From his tone, Chrys suspected he had indulged the door for years. 'A pleasure to see you, Azetidine,' he told her with a bow. 'We share such good taste.'

'She's training, as you know,' Daeren told him. 'Thanks so much for helping out.'

Looking slightly aside, Garnet smiled. 'It's always a pleasure to receive Eleutheria.'

Daeren glanced at the finials and the singing birds. 'The conference room, if you don't mind.'

The floor glided down the hall until they reached a massive arch at right. Inside the conference room, the table was long enough to span an ordinary house. Three chairs slid around together.