F Paul Wilson - Sims 05 (4 page)

 
          
MINEOLA
,
NY

 
          
DECEMBER
22

 
          
Romy
had called first thing in the morning and told Patrick to pick her up. They had
a doctor’s appointment, she said.

 
          
After
she’d settled herself in the car she explained that the appointment was with an
obstetrician. That had taken him aback until she explained that it was Dr.
Cannon, and they were visiting her to discuss Alice Fredericks.

 
          
Betsy
Cannon worked out of a small office attached to her home, a modest two-story
colonial on a tree-lined street in Mineola. She’d already made her hospital
rounds; her office hours didn’t start until 1:00P .M. so they had plenty of time.
Looking casual in a loose turtleneck sweater and khaki slacks, she served them
coffee and Entenmann’s crumb cake in her roomy kitchen.

 
          
“Is
there a Mr. Dr. Cannon?” Patrick whispered as Betsy stepped out of the room to
take a call from the hospital.

 
          
Romy
shook her head. “No. Never was, and I doubt there ever will be, if you get my
drift.”

 
          
“No
kidding?” Patrick said. “Never would have guessed.”

 
          
Betsy
returned then and seated herself on the far side of the kitchen table. “You
wanted to ask me about this Fredericks woman?”

 
          
“Yes,”
Romy said. “Her story is such a mishmash of fact and
fiction,
we were hoping you’d be able to separate the two.”

 
          
Patrick
appreciated the “we.” It hadn’t even occurred to him to run the story past Dr.
Cannon. And considering that she’d spent years as head of sim obstetrics for
SimGen, he was disappointed with himself for not thinking of it first.

 
          
Betsy
smiled. “Well, I’ll be glad to try. I can explain parts of her story—especially
the ones about being abducted and impregnated by space aliens—with one word:
psychosis.”

 
          
Patrick
said, “That’s pretty strong, isn’t it?”

 
          
“She’s
delusional,
she has a persistent break with reality
that interferes with her day-to-day functioning. That behavior fits the
diagnosis. The sad thing is
,
she can be easily helped.
The right medications could restore her neurochemicals to proper balance and
she’d come back to the real world.”

 
          
“Neurochemicals,”
Romy murmured. “They’ll get you every time.”

 
          
Patrick
shot her a questioning glance but she only shrugged and waved it off.

 
          
“Delusional
or not,” he said, getting back on track, “she gave us the check. And unless I’m
delusional too, it looks pretty real.”

 
          
Betsy
smiled. “I’m sure it is. And you’ll notice I didn’t include the part about her
giving birth to a sim as one of her delusions.”

 
          
“You
don’t really think…,” Romy said, frowning. She glanced at Patrick. “I mean,
how…?”

 
          
“It’s
obvious when you think about it,” Betsy told her. “Human surrogate mothers were
a necessity in the early stages of the sim breeding process.”

 
          
Romy’s
face twisted in revulsion. “Why on earth—?”

 
          
“Because
sims
are
considerably larger than chimps. A small
chimpanzee uterus couldn’t carry a sim baby to term, but a human uterus would
have no problem.”

 
          
Patrick
was dazed. “So part of what she’s saying might be true?”

 
          
“Perhaps
not about birthing the very first sim, but…how old is she?”

 
          
“Forty-seven—she
says.”

 
          
Betsy
nodded. “Then she’s about the right age. Think about the implantation process—flat
on her back on a table, bright lights overhead, surrounded by doctors in caps,
masks, and goggles as they insert an in-vitro–fertilized ovum into her uterus.
You can see how an unbalanced mind might later reinterpret this as an alien
abduction.”

 
          
“But to go through all that for five thousand dollars?”

 
          
“I’m
sure it was more like fifty thousand: say, five in advance, then five every
month until delivery. The process is no different from being a surrogate mother
for a human couple.”

 
          
“Except
that at the end you don’t deliver a human baby,” Romy said.

 
          
Betsy
nodded.
“Right.
And perhaps that unbalanced an already
fragile mind.”

 
          
“Which
makes her one more casualty left in SimGen’s wake,” Romy said.

 
          
“But
she couldn’t have been the only one,” Patrick said. “How come we haven’t heard
about this before?”

 
          
Betsy
shrugged. “I’m sure there were many human surrogate mothers before SimGen
developed its breeding stock. I’m also sure they signed non-disclosure
agreements with stiff penalties.”

 
          
“Not
exactly the sort of thing I’d want to trumpet from the rooftops anyway,” Romy
added.

 
          
Patrick
leaned back, thinking. He had a sense that something important had slipped past
him here, something Betsy had said a moment ago.

 
          
A
small chimpanzee uterus couldn’t carry a sim baby to term, but a human uterus
would have no problem.

 
          
And
then he knew.

 
          
“Oh, Christ!
Meerm is carrying a half-human, half-sim baby.
Won’t it grow too big—?”

 
          
“Too big for her to carry full term?”
Betsy said.
“Absolutely.
Normal sim gestation is eight months, but we
don’t know when Meerm conceived, so we don’t know her due date. That’s why you
have to find her. If she goes into premature labor while she’s in hiding, the
baby won’t survive. If she’s too far along the baby will be too big for a
vaginal delivery, which means she’ll need a cesarean.”

 
          
“And
if she doesn’t get one?” Romy asked, and Patrick could tell from her expression
that she didn’t want to hear the answer.

 
          
“We’ll
lose both of them.”

 
          
Romy
closed her eyes for a heartbeat or two,
then
stared at
Patrick. “We’ve got to find her.”

 
          
“Tome
is set to go tonight.”

 
          
Zero
had called Patrick this morning to tell him he’d gone back to Newark before
dawn and followed the sim bus into Manhattan. He saw where it dropped off the
sims
at a Harlem sweatshop. Assuming pick-up would be at the
same spot, the new plan was to put Tome on line with the workers as they
boarded the bus.

 
          
“If
Tome gets the job done tonight, we could be bringing Meerm here tomorrow
morning.”

 
          
Betsy
smiled and raised her coffee cup in a sort of toast. “I’ll be waiting.”

 
          
NEWARK
,
NJ

 
          
Meerm
hide in cold dark place and hurt. Hurt so ver bad.
Tummy go
kick-kick-kick. Was food bad? Meerm not think. Not feel sick tummy, just hurt
tummy.
Hurt-hurt-hurt, then stop.
Then hurt-hurt-hurt
again, then stop.

 
          
Now
hurt stop again. Meerm close eyes and breathe. So good when hurt stop.

 
          
What
this?
Leg feel
wet.
Meerm touch.
Yes, wet and warm. Put wet from leg near light from steel door crack. Red wet.
Blood?
Where
blood
come?
From inside?
How come from inside?

 
          
Now
Meerm cry. Don’t want bleed. Don’t want die. What wrong Meerm?

 
          
MANHATTAN

 
          
Tome keep
head down and walk far back in bus like Mist
Sulliman say do. Sit seat and wait. Other sim come, say, “My seat, my seat.”

 
          
Tome
stand wait for bus move, then find other seat.

 
          
“Who
you?” say she-sim next Tome. “You not shop sim.”

 
          
Tome remember
what Mist Sulliman tell him say. “Yes, not
shop sim.
Just old sim looking for friend.”

 
          
“Who friend?”

 
          
“Meerm.”

 
          
To
me know not true, but Mist Sulliman
tell
say this.

 
          
She-sim
say
loud, “Beece! Beece! Come see old sim!”

 
          
Tome look
and see he-sim come down aisle.
This
Beece big.
Look down Tome.

 
          
“Why here old sim?”

 
          
“I
am Tome. Look for Meerm.
She friend.”

 
          
Beece
get mad face. “You lie! Bad mans send! You want hurt Meerm!”

 
          
“No!
Good mans send.
Friend all sim.
Best friend sim have.
Try to make sim union. Try—”

 
          
“What
yooyun?”

 
          
Tome try
tell but Beece not understand. So Tome tell Beece
bout how Mist Sulliman hurt by bad mans, house burned by bad mans who hate sim.

 
          
Beece
eyes ver wide. “House burn? Because help
sims
?”

 
          
All
other sim who hear turn round, look Tome.

 
          
Tome say
, “Yes! Good man! Best man. Now want help Meerm.
Save her from bad mans.
Also Meerm ver sick.”

 
          
All
sim
nod
. Yes, some say.
Meerm ver
sick.

 
          
“Good
man help make better. Where Tome find Meerm?”

 
          
Beece
not speak.

 
          
She-sim
next Tome say, “Beece not know. No sim know.”

 
          
No
sim speak long time.
Tome ver sad.
Want help Mist
Sulliman but fail. Touch phone in pocket. Must call and tell.

 
          
Then
Beece say, “Beece know. Not know exact, but can help.” Beece look hard Tome.
“Must tell true.
Must help Meerm.”

 
          
“Tome
help
Meerm.”
So ver happy now.
“Tome
help
good.”