2005 - Vol. 2, Issue 3

The stupid little gnome better need me this time, Alteer Morgan thought, stepping warily from the glittering arch of the stargate, into the humid darkness of Michigan III. She unconsciously fingered the needle gun that hung on her utility belt as she strained her ears, listening for the rumbling grunts of fwhosooms.

Everything was quiet. Her muscles relaxed slightly. Stay alert; don't get sloppy, she told herself. Her hazel eyes continued to scan the matted jungle of faintly glowing vegetation around her. Satisfied none of the carnivorous plants were about, she commenced down the shadowy, winding trail that led to her patient's dome.

The glow plants lining the path shed their emerald light to guide her footsteps. As she neared each plant, it turned bright pods toward the spongy fungal trail, lighting as it detected the heat of her body. Within minutes she had rounded a clump of flowers, whose heady incense was almost overwhelming, and spied the luminous golden dome belonging to Mikenta de la Makootee. Alteer bit her lip. Looks like he's been budding more rooms again, she mused, carefully stepping along the smooth stones that bridged the shallow stream babbling across her path.

When she was within twenty paces of the pulsating surface of the house, she called loudly to its owner, "Mikenta de la Makootee. Are you home? It's Alteer." No one answered.

She turned around and checked the woods, again scrutinizing the foliage for the telltale phosphorescence of fwhosooms and listening for their rumblings. Seeing and hearing nothing, she turned back toward the house. "Mikenta. Are you in there?"

For a few seconds she toyed with the idea of simply leaving. That would serve Mikenta right since he was always declaring a medical emergency that turned out to be nothing more than a scrape or bruise.

If the crazy gnome would buy a bot instead of doing his chores with hand tools, he'd probably not even suffer those minor injuries, she thought. In fact he'd cried wolf so many times that the mechanicals didn't even send the medbots along with her anymore when she was dispatched to his home on bogus medical emergencies.

But there was always a chance, albeit minuscule, that Mikenta de la Makootee really was in need of medical help. He was a Neo–Buddhist; if he ever did sustain a serious injury, treating him would be complicated since his religious beliefs forbid having nonliving instrumentation penetrate his skin. That made most invasive medical procedures impossible.

And Mikenta de la Makootee almost always met her, brandishing his latest Lilliputian wound and demanding she help him immediately. It wasn't like him not to greet her as soon as she appeared. So you'd better find his ugly carcass and see if there's really something wrong this time.

Alteer cautiously approached the giant modified leaf that formed the front door and waited impatiently while the appendage curled back to admit her into the cavernous interior of the dome. "Mikenta?" she called through the dark opening, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the rotten stench that filled the interior of the house.

The heat from her body caused the walls inside to light up, tinting the interior in hues of pink and aquamarine. Still a mess, Alteer sighed, entering the great room. Given his cooking abilities, it's a wonder he hasn't died of food poisoning. She eyed the stacks of half–eaten meals among the piles of papers, books, and empty packing boxes that littered the floor. She'd seen the gnome nibble from a moldy plate of cookies on a previous visit and was puzzled by the fact that he never seemed to suffer from stomach ailments.

Well, unless he's buried himself in one of these garbage piles, he's not in here, she decided after quickly inspecting the room. Where was he most likely to be? Probably his laboratory.

Sidestepping a mound of trash, she crossed through a stemmed archway into the gnome's workshop, which detected her presence and slowly lit itself to reveal long tables burdened by an incredible array of exotic flowers of rainbow hues. She marveled at the flora a moment and then tore her eyes away to continue searching, checking under the tables.

No other archways led from the laboratory. That left only the living quarters above the great room. She frowned at the thought of what the small man's living quarters must be like if his front room was in such disarray. But it was possible he was in serious trouble, and the medical emergency he'd declared gave her the legal authority to go anywhere.

Besides, if he isn't hurt, having me see what kind of dump he lives in might teach him a lesson, she decided. Maybe the horny little toad is going to ambush me. She grinned and shook her head at the outlandish thought; even by Neo–Buddhist standards he was docile. That was one thing she needn't worry about.

She weaved around the rubbish and gingerly climbed the dry, rigid petals that formed a crooked stairway to the buds that formed a balcony. She stooped to enter the narrow hallway, discovering a winding maze of openings.

This could take all day, she thought. If this really was a medical emergency, she didn't have the time to waste. But there was no indication where he might be.

The leaf door nearest her curled open, as if anticipating her decision. She poked her head into the narrow opening. "Mikenta, you'd better be seriously ill if we're going to play hide and seek."

The room glowed a warm yellow to reveal a wardrobe of clothing ringing the room, the diminutive suits carefully hung and arrayed according to their styles and colors. Now that's a surprise. She'd never imagined Mikenta in anything other than a dirty smock. He must go out on the town once in a while. She backed out into the hallway and watched the room rapidly grow dark.

Wait a minute. . . . Of course. The rooms only glowed when someone was in them.

She glanced down the hallway toward the faint glow coming from the opening four doors ahead of her and then hastened toward the room, ducking to avoid bumping her head on a rootlike beam.

She peered into the chamber and found Mikenta de la Makootee sprawled on the floor, half sitting up with his back to the wall. His eyes were closed, his face deathly pale.

Alteer entered, yanked her diagnostic tool from its pouch on her belt, and kneeled beside him. Thumbing the machine on, she reached for the front of the gnome's shirt to expose his chest.

A loud hiss erupted from his shirt, along with the black blur of a striking serpent. Sharp teeth snapped as she jumped back reflexively, kicking at the floor to scoot away from the danger.

Heart racing, she swore under her breath, backing a safe distance away from the creature, which had retreated under the man's tunic. Rising to her feet, she realized what the creature was and that it wasn't overly dangerous. "Mikenta de la Makootee, you've been holding out on me, haven't you?" she muttered, half to herself. "This should set our doctor–patient relationship back a couple hundred light years."

Alteer stroked an eyebrow, forcing herself to calm down. Then she directed the diagnostic toward the still form on the floor and slowly approached him, bringing the instrument toward the man's chest. Let's see how close your little serpent will let me get.

The reptile again hissed, its head snaking out and nipping her hand, nearly causing her to drop the diagnostic extended in front of her.

"You little devil!" she yelled, breaking free of its bite with a jerk of her hand. She extracted a quickaid from her belt and sprayed the bleeding wound. She was surprised how much it hurt; her hands shook from the adrenaline surging through her bloodstream. "How am I going to get you out of the picture so I can take care of Mikenta? You're just trying to protect your master and you're too dumb to reason with, aren't you? Too bad someone didn't put a decent brain in you in case your host conked out."

She cautiously approached her patient and his symbiotic host again, replacing the diagnostic and quickaid into their pouches. She could barely see the serpent peering out of its lair inside the man's shirt, its eyes glowing in the reflected light from the walls. "Guess I'm going to have to let you bite me again," she whispered to the creature.

The trick would be not pulling her hand away when the creature sank its teeth into her skin. "OK, you damned little snake. Let's see you do your thing. Come on, the tension's going to make me chicken out if you don't strike soon."

She continued to inch her hand forward, teeth clenched in anticipation of the pain that the creature would inflict.

Without warning, the serpent struck, sinking its teeth deep into the white flesh along the edge of her palm. Crying in pain, Alteer grabbed the snake with her free hand, clutching it behind its head just as it released her and tried to retreat back into its hiding place.

"Too slow, you little bastard!" she cried, using her free hand to pull back Mikenta de la Makootee's shirt. She traced the scaled body of the serpent back to the broad tail that was rooted to the fleshy fat at the gnome's waist. Alteer studied the base of the creature a moment and then spoke. "Just what I thought: a transgenetic. And you managed to wander away from your rooting pad, planting yourself over this fatty patch of skin instead of the web of veins where you belong."

How in the world should I move this thing back to its rooting pad? Alteer had seen symbients planted on hosts before - that was a pretty basic operation and was growing more common as the Neo–Buddhist sects spread. There was nothing to it; just put the symbient over the pad and let it extend its tendrils into place.

But how do you get a symbient to re–root? And how strong were the roots? Would they break apart, maybe even permanently damage the animal?

She carefully prodded a tendril with one of her long fingernails and was pleased to see the root come loose, retracting toward the snake's body. "That didn't seem to bother you, did it?" she asked, inspecting the creature whose head she still restrained with her hand. "Say, you're pretty docile when someone's got you by the throat, aren't you? Lost all your fight?"

The snake watched her with unblinking eyes as she continued to loosen its roots, prodding each one with her fingernail. The tendrils came free, leaving behind tiny jewels of blood where they'd penetrated Mikenta's flesh.

"Now don't you fasten to me, you crazy thing," she warned, shifting its position and holding its rooting tail with her other hand. The creature squirmed as she quickly aligned it over the patch of raw–looking skin near Mikenta's left nipple, where Alteer knew the transgenetic creature must normally reside.

The medic carefully set the creature's roots onto the skin and watched as they rapidly buried themselves into it. "How's that?" she asked. "Are you going to behave if I let go of you?" She tentatively loosened her grip on the snake, which closed its eyes, coiling into a pouch sewn inside the gnome's shirt.

"Home again, home again. . . ." Alteer grinned. "Now let's see what's wrong with your host."

She ignored the bloody bite on her hand and retrieved the diagnostic from its pouch, switched it on, and held it over Mikenta de la Makootee's ashen skin. "Damn," Alteer swore, studying the readout. "Don't you die on me, you little imp. I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't declaring a medical emergency every few weeks. What in the world's wrong with. . . . Wait a minute."

She hesitated and then placed the tool against his neck, tapping a tiny button on the surface of the instrument. "I know I'm not supposed to penetrate your skin, but this is one time we're going to have to forego our religious convictions, old friend. Otherwise you'll be going to nirvana or wherever the hell Neo–Buddhists go when they die."

The instrument beeped and she checked the readout. "Low blood sugar. With your crazy eating habits, I'll bet you're a type II diabetic, you old dolt." She tapped the button on the side of the diagnostic tool, and it rapidly ran another series of blood tests.

Since a Neo–Buddhist couldn't be operated on for religious reasons, there was no way to replace his pancreas. So the transgenetic snake supplied insulin in exchange for food. But it must have come loose and migrated to the wrong spot, dumping the hormone into fat instead of his bloodstream where it was needed. Probably Mikenta de la Makootee was too busy with his plants to check his symbient when he started feeling woozy. He only had time to send an emergency call and then passed out. Alteer nodded, certain that must have been what had transpired.

Bringing the man around would be simple enough. One shot of insulin and he'd regain consciousness in minutes. The catch was that since Neo–Buddhists weren't permitted to have needles or other medical instruments invade their bodies, giving him a shot was illegal. But waiting for the symbient to supply the massive amount needed was dangerous since the man needed more than the small creature could manufacture in such a short time.

Alteer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This won't be the first time I've broken the laws of God or the machines, she thought, retrieving a thin electro–syringe from her belt. She carefully dialed the insulin dose needed by her patient.

"And what you don't know won't hurt you," she added, glancing toward Mikenta de la Makootee as she waited for the display on the hypodermic to change from red to green. After double–checking the syringe, she bent down and touched the tool to the gnome's neck. She waited a moment and then took one more reading from the diagnostic.

Satisfied he was coming around, she retreated quietly from the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Alteer had retraced her steps, returning once again to the large glowing dome. This time she saw a shaggy head peering from the open doorway ahead of her. "Mikenta de la Makootee, have you brought me on another of your wild goose chases?" she asked, doing her best to suppress a smile.

The gnome said nothing, stomping into the tall grass of his unkempt yard on shaky legs.

"I got here as quickly as I could," Alteer lied. "What's wrong with you this time? A microscopic cut or a tiny bruise on your little finger?"

"Nothing," the gnome said. "I . . . uh. . . . The blasted mechanicals must have got their signals crossed. I've never felt better."

"Yeah, mechanicals are known for their human frailties," Alteer said with a straight face.

"While you're here, you might as well come in and try some of my new fenipher tea. I just cloned a new-"

"Maybe some other time," Alteer answered diplomatically, shuddering when she recalled the stained teapot she'd seen lying on its side on the floor during her trip through the house a few minutes earlier.

"Are you sure you can't stay?"

She checked her thumbnail watch. "Oh, my. I'm late. I better get going if you won't be needing me. I'll see you again in about a month for your checkup."

"Checkup?" Mikenta asked. "Why would I need a-"

"Bye. I don't want to be here when dawn comes. Might meet up with one of your fwhosooms."

"Yeah, right," the gnome said, his face suddenly softening into a crooked, toothy smile. "And thanks for stopping by – even if it was a false alarm."

"See you in a month." She returned Mikenta's wave as she left.