get any sleep, I might as well do something useful.
At six in the morning I was playing the short video of Tom over and over again, obsessively. I called Spanner’s number for the tenth time. Nothing. I ran the video again. By the magic of digital imaging, Tom stood at a slide pole, looking bewildered; faced the image of his bank-account representative and wept; threw a book against the wall in frustration. Text drifted across the pictures: You can help. Send money now. The account numbers would be inserted later, when I got them from Spanner.
I tried her number again.
I had started out taking notes: shave a frame here, a pan there; add a zoom focus and fade. Now I was just watching, over and over.
It was after seven. This time when there was no reply from Spanner, I knew there was something wrong.
There were no lights shining around Spanner’s door seal; no reply to my knock. I tried the handle. It swung open.
“Spanner?”
No reply. I went in.
“Spanner?”
No one in the living room. I put my head in the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen—and stopped abruptly.
She was standing very still by the kitchen counter, profile to the window. “I was worried to death! Why didn’t you—”
She turned her head very, very slowly.
“Oh, dear god.” She tried to smile and I felt my face stiffen in shock. I reached out to hold her, support her, but stopped short of touching her. She was standing rigidly and her face was a grayish, doughy color. Pain. Pain would do that.
“Is the medic’s number on your system? No, don’t try to nod. Just . . . just blink if the answer’s yes.” She blinked. I raced into the living room, punched in his number. It was his service. I told him to get here right away, then, worried I might be garbling my words in shock, told him everything all over again. I ran back into the kitchen. Spanner was still standing there, helpless.
“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you. Do you need to lie down?” She blinked twice.
I couldn’t touch her. She wouldn’t lie down. She couldn’t seem to talk. We stared at each other. Her breathing was stertorous. I smiled. I didn’t know what else to do.
“You’ll be fine. The medic’s on his way. He’s very good. But you know that. Remember how he fixed me? You’ll be fine.”
I don’t know how long I kept up that inane chatter, but when the medic banged on the door my throat was beginning to feel sore. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Spanner. “In here!” I called. “The door’s open.”
He came in in a blast of cold air and had his coat off before I could even say hello. “Tetany,” he said to no one in particular. “Saw that in a horse, once.” A horse? “It’s the pain.” He had his bag open. “Have you tried to touch her?”
“No.”
“Any idea where she hurts?”
“No.”
“Can you talk?” he asked Spanner. She blinked twice.
“That means no.”
He grinned at me over his shoulder, and it occurred to me that he thought we were some kind of comedy act. No. And she says no, too. My legs started to shake.
He held up a spray hypo.
“No!”
He looked at me, raised his eyebrow. “Allergic?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I am, but she isn’t.” He waited patiently. This is not the past! “No, I’m sorry. It’s all right. She’s not allergic.”
He reached up to touch Spanner’s shoulder, but she flinched visibly so he sprayed it into her left buttock instead. “Watch.”
She began to shudder like a dog, and sweat. Her breathing came in great gasps.
“Help me get her to the bed.”
Between us, we shepherded Spanner into the bedroom.
“She won’t want to lie down.” She balked at the bed. “I can give her one more shot, but it’ll put her out. Can you authorize payment?” I nodded. He squirted the stuff into her right buttock this time. “Catch her!”
She fell as I imagined a robot might: arms and legs stiff and not swinging quite right.
“We need to get her clothes off.”
I think the worst thing was that I couldn’t see anything wrong: no burns or cuts or rashes. No bruises or welts. Nothing.
We had her clothes off and he was palpating this and that, bending knees, thumping her chest, nodding to himself.
“She’ll need watching for twenty-four hours.” He laid out six hypos. “Painkillers and antibiotics. One every four hours. Then I’ll come back.” He had pulled on his coat, held out his reader for