Charles Sheffield - The Mind Pool

Within minutes she realized that he was not following any of his usual paths. The Tracker showed that he was off on some wild new excursion, sometimes far away, sometimes veering in close to her, but always inaccessible. Tatty did her best to follow, and found she was running into blind ends. According to the Tracker, Chan was just on the other side of that well — and there was no way to reach it. She hurried on, following the Tracker’s memory of each twist and turn. There was no possibility that he could actually escape; Horus was a maximum security facility, and Tatty had hopelessly explored all the possible routes for herself.

But he could certainly do himself damage. She had to find him, and as soon as possible.

It took over three hours. And when Tatty finally reached him she realized that it was no credit to her. Chan was sitting quietly on an old excavating machine, staring at the molecular decomposition nozzles. The corridor behind him was clear. Had he chosen to do so, he could have gone on running.

Tatty approached him warily. She could shoot tranquilizer from as far away as ten yards, but there was little sign that it might be needed.

“Chan.”

“Here, Tatty.”

“Are you all right?” She saw the dried tears on his cheeks.

“No. Anything but all right. I mean … I don’t know. If was all right before, then not all right now.”

Tatty’s skin quivered into gooseflesh. The baby-talk overtone was still there, with Chan’s awkward articulation. But the cadence and meaning had changed. It was a stranger talking.

“Chan, how do you feel? Are you hurting?”

His long silence was not the usual blank of indifference. He seemed to be pondering her question, searching for an answer and finding it impossible to reply. Twice he began, and twice he halted before completing a word.

“Feel … strange,” he said at last. “Just the same, and not same. All things are … mixed. I don’t know more, all same things in my head. But now …” He frowned. “Same things, but things not the same. Now I can see them. Before, I didn’t notice.” He stood up, and swayed on his feet. One arm went blindly to the side, to support himself against the excavating machine. “I … feel … like …”

He was falling forward, eyes closing. Tatty stepped forward to support him. For a change she welcomed the weak gravity maintained on Horus. She could carry Chan to his bedroom for examination without too much strain on herself.

All the way back he remained unconscious. But his breathing was regular, and when she laid him on the bed the monitors showed his vital signs as normal. Tatty sat next to him as the monitors completed a more detailed examination. She wanted to talk to Ceres and tell Flammarion what was happening, but it was surely more important to stay here. He seemed all right, but suppose that he suffered another convulsion while she was away? She was the only other person on Horus. More than that, suppose this were the breakthrough point for the Stimulator treatment. Then she had to be there when Chan awoke. Flammarion had emphasized that often enough, without ever explaining how she was supposed to manage it and still tell Ceres exactly what was going on.

Tatty made up her mind. Chan might need her help for the next few hours, and that took priority over everything else.

She ran through into the kitchen, grabbed containers of drink and packaged food, and rushed back to sit beside Chan. He remained unconscious while she ate a makeshift meal, but he was beginning to mutter and whimper in his sleep. Tatty was increasingly reluctant to leave him. She glanced at her watch. It was almost time for Chan’s scheduled sleep. She dimmed the chamber lights and quietly lay down at his side.

Such vigil was no novelty. She had sat often with Chan after a Stimulator session, telling him stories until he was relaxed enough to go to sleep. Soon after their arrival on Horus she had changed his bed for a much broader one, so that she could stretch out beside him and tell simple tales of life on Earth and in the Gallimaufries, stories that drew his attention until the tears ended and exhaustion took over.

Tonight was not much different. Chan drifted toward wakefulness, snuggling up close as he did so. His forehead was a little warm, though not enough to be called a fever.

Tatty closed her own eyes. The significance of the day’s events was coming home to her. Suppose that Chan had made a crucial breakthrough? Then he might be on the road to normal intelligence. That was the finest news in the world — she had grown as fond of Chan as she had ever been of anyone. But there were other implications … great implications …

If his treatment is ending, I’ll be free! Out of this prison. Free to leave Horus, free to return to my own life on Earth. Less than two months, but I feel as though I’ve been away forever. Can I go back there, now — and what will I do about Esro? Do I want to torment him, as he has tormented me?

“Tatty!” Chan jerked up out of half-sleep.

“Here.” She put her arms around him. “You’re all right. Everything’s all right.”

“No.” He put his arms around her. “It’s not all right. I wish I could go back. It used to be easy, and now it’s hard. It’s … what is the word? … complicated?”

“That’s the real world, Chan.”

“It was the real world before. My real world. Tatty, I don’t like this. I’m scared.”

“Hold on to me, Chan. You’re right, it’s not easy. Being human is never easy. But you have friends. I’ll help you, and I’ll take care of you.”

Chan nodded. But he began to cry again, deep-chested sobs that went on minute after minute. Tatty felt the tears in her own eyes. It had seemed so obvious that Chan would be better if the Stimulator worked, that afterwards everything would be better. Now she sorrowed for the loss of the innocent child. Her baby was gone, and he would never come back.

She cradled him to her, stroking his head and patting his shoulders. She became aware of another change in him, one that filled her with foreboding. Chan was becoming physically aroused, moving his body uneasily against her.

Tatty had been warned of this in the first briefing. Flammarion had told her that Chan’s adult body might announce its presence, and he had emphasized that rejection would be bad for Chan. There could be permanent psychological damage. Tatty had listened and nodded. There were far bigger problems to worry about.

“Tatty!” Chan was frightened. Long past puberty, he had always been blissfully unaware of his own sexuality. Now uncontrollable urges were possessing him, and he had no idea what was happening.

It was the fear in his voice that made Tatty ignore her own worries. “It’s all right, Chan. You’re going to be fine. It’s not a bad thing.”

Not bad for you. Bad for me. It makes no difference. Chan needs me, and no one else cares if I even exist.

Gently, Tatty guided Chan along another critical segment of his rite of passage from child to man. She held him, and at the same time despised herself.

Worst of all was her inability to remain aloof. Two months was a long time — too long. Tatty felt her own growing response and fought against it. She shivered, hesitated, resisted, but finally groaned and clutched him to her.

During lovemaking he had begun to weep again, long mournful sobs that shook his body. At the moment of his climax he cried out, “Leah! Oh, Leah.”

At the height of her own passion, Tatty wept also. Her tears were silent. But she thought of Esro Mondrian, and in the final seconds she at last whispered his name.

Twenty thousand years ago humans had hunted the woolly rhinoceros and fought the sabertooth tiger. Five thousand years ago the quarry was wild boar and bears and hippopotami. One thousand years ago, out on the great plains of Africa and India, the prize kills were lions, elephants, and tigers.