Harry Steinman - Little Deadly Things

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

WEDNESDAY, MAY 19, 2038

2:00 PM

Eva Rozen strode into the waiting room looking like a shrunken wraith—girlish, ghoulish.

The 29-year-old scientist and entrepreneur had pale skin that could be compared to alabaster, if one were to be charitable, like plaster if not. It was pulled taut against the uneven planes of her face to produce an impression of constant tension, of perpetual threat. To look at her for more than a few moments was to falter, to lose one’s balance.

This tidal wave in human form could move with great stealth but today Eva Rozen surged up to the receptionist’s station trailing disturbance like a gunboat’s wake. Sparks flew up from the clinic’s marble floor where her heels struck, and the air boiled around her. The office administrator looked up and froze. She’d been linked, but stopped speaking midsentence and tapped a small skin-toned communication patch just above her jaw to end the conversation.

Eva held out her hand to the attendant. The gesture was not an old-fashioned handshake. She dismissed ordinary social actions, and especially any that required physical contact. Rather, the act was part of a communications protocol. It signaled that Eva was using her datasleeve to gather the receptionist’s cloud data, her public information: Bethany Jamison, genetic female, age 41, no criminal record. Eva’s sleeve displayed all manner of private information as well. Jamison’s credit profile, medical history, sexual preferences, augmentations, and other private and presumably secure data were available to Eva at a glance.

Armed with the administrator’s name, Eva demanded, “Bethany, get Jim Ecco.” Bethany Jamison, genetic female, age 41, no criminal record, did not move.

“Bethany,” Eva repeated, “get Ecco. Now. Tell him Eva is here.”

The administrator struggled to regain her composure. “Uh, I don’t, that is, he’s with a resident,” she managed, “and Mr. Ecco has a full schedule,” recovering.

“His residents stink. Tell Mr. Ecco that Dr. Rozen is waiting.” Then, an afterthought, “Please.”

Rozen’s glare activated Bethany’s survival instincts. The unflappable gatekeeper of Boston’s largest animal shelter jumped up and scurried down a well-lit hallway. Two minutes later Bethany reappeared, stopping well short of the reception area. She looked once more at the visitor and then dove into an examining room like a soldier seeking cover.

In her place stood James Bradley Ecco—behaviorist, trainer, and chief handler of Haven Memorial Animal Shelter’s three-score rescued dogs. Eva nodded a brief greeting that took in her old friend. He smelled of musk with traces of ammonia. Stray hairs left multicolored streaks on his uniform—tan scrubs with a dark blue logo, a paw print, and the word ‘Haven’ embedded over his left breast. His name, employee ID number, photo, and title glowed beneath the logo. His slight frame gave an impression of insubstantiality that belied his strength, speed, and anger.

The dog trainer, husband, and father could claim another distinction: in the entire world, he was Eva Rozen’s only remaining friend.

Jim’s face lit up. “Eva! This is a surprise. What are you doing here? I mean, it’s great you’re here. What have you been—”

He stopped midsentence. Few would have noticed the tightening below her eyebrows and fewer still would have recognized Eva’s sudden impatience. Jim Ecco seldom missed small warnings, neither in dogs nor in people. He adopted a relaxed posture and leaned back imperceptibly, giving Eva an inch more space to signal his respect for her.

“Talk to me,” Jim said. “What exciting plans do you have? Decided to adopt a puppy?”

“Nope. Don’t need any research animals.”

One corner of Jim’s mouth turned up in a half grin. “Ah, Eva,” he sighed theatrically. “Ever the humanitarian.”

“Jim Ecco, ever the idealist. You make any kind of a decent wage cleaning up after dogs? Or does Plant Lady carry you?”

He ignored the barb. “Here to sell me stock in NMech?”

“Not going public just yet. But you should help me. Leased medical nanoagents means—

“Means NMech grows rich. Where on earth did you get the idea of leasing medicine, anyway?”

“I copied my strategy from King Gillette.”

“King who?” asked Jim.

“King Gillette. That was his name, not a title. He invented disposable safety razor blades, figuring that he could just about give away the razor but charge for the blades, as long as they were short-lived. He made a fortune. It’ll work for medicine, too.”

“Rent-a-remedy?”

“Meds for the masses.” Eva’s eyes tightened again. Jim turned just a degree or two. It was the same indirect body posture that he would adopt with an agitated dog in his care. He fixed his gaze just to the side of his old friend and then looked down at the floor. Eva relaxed.

“I need your help,” she said abruptly.

“My help? Or Marta’s?”

“Yours. Hers. Both.”

“We’ve been through that,” said Jim. “We made a family decision.”

“Yeah, well, I can sweeten the deal. I have something that will interest the Plant Lady.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Take my word for it. She’ll like what I can put on the table. First I have to know if she can give me what I want.” Eva, the Needy.

“First, I need to see my patients. You know, the stinky ones? Then we can talk.”

“Patients? The vets have patients. You have shovels.” Eva, the Relentless.

Jim did not respond. She would take any response, even correction, as tacit approval.

“I’ll wait,” she said. Eva, the Unexpected.

Jim stared. “You’ll wait? Now I’m confused. You stormed in, a woman on fire. You lit up poor Bethany, demanded to see me, and now you’ll wait? Why didn’t you just link to me? I’d have been expecting you.”

“I need to talk to you, that’s why.”

“Yes, Eva, but most people link ahead. Courtesy doesn’t take that much work.”

“Overrated,” she snapped. “When it’s time to do something, it’s time to do it. Besides, I checked your schedule and I knew you’d be here.”

“You checked my…?” Jim looked down at his datasleeve and frowned. “You’re still up to your old tricks.”

When Eva said nothing, Jim conceded, “Okay, it must be really important. Make yourself at home.” He smiled and walked back to the kennels.

Eva stood still in her friend’s cramped office. Only her eyes moved as she examined her surroundings. After a few silent minutes, she frowned and ran stubby fingers across her scalp, leaving rows of dirty blond hair like freshly-plowed farmland.