Sims

“You know how to work this sort of rig?” Patrick said, leaning over his shoulder.

“Not really, but it seems to be a dedicated system, and if the menu’s at all intuitive…”

The menu formed on the screen and Zero groaned. It looked like a crossword puzzle with numbered feeds and rows ofinput from andoutput to and acronyms he didn’t understand. Suddenly the air in the balcony seemed too thin. He ripped off the mask and took a deep breath. He looked down at his trembling fingers poised over the keyboard. It wasn’t just the computer program, it was everything…the huge responsibility that he’d taken on over the past couple of years…he felt as if it were all crashing down on him at once. Everything he’d been living for hinged on what he and these good humans did here tonight.

He took another breath and focused on the screen. He could handle this.

A little trial and error, a lot of intuition…he could do it. He had to do it.

Meerm so ver fraid. Not fraid needle. Fraid this place. And fraid hurt. Hurt so bad.

“Okay now, Meerm,” say mask lady. Nice lady. “I’m going to make the hurt go away.”

Meerm feel warm, feel hurt go. This ver nice lady.

“I’m going to put you to sleep now, Meerm,” lady say. “And when you wake up, you’ll have a baby. Won’t that be nice?”

Yes. Baby. Meerm baby. So nice. Meerm want hold, want kiss. Make baby safe. Hold-hold-hold and nev let go.

Sleepy now, but not stop think baby…Meerm baby…Meerm ver own baby…happy Meerm…

23

“Stop!” Luca shouted. “Pull over right now!”

Lowery slammed on the brakes. As the Jeep screeched to an unexpected halt, the two following vehicles skidded past and swerved to stops ahead.

“Where’s the blower?” Luca shouted. “Give me the fucking blower!”

“Here,” Lowery said, slapping the PCA into his palm. “What’s the matter?”

“I am so stupid,” Luca said, punching in 4-1-1. “So fucking stupid!”

“Are you going to tell me—?”

“Ca

He got the number from information, punched it in, and asked for Dr. Ca

“Dr. Ca

Shit! “I really need to speak to Elizabeth personally. This is her brother and we’ve got a family emergency that needs her immediate attention.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ll try her house and—”

“I’ve already called and she doesn’t answer.”

“Maybe she’s at the hospital. I can page her if you wish.”

“Would you? That would be wonderful.”

Luca waited on hold, feeling the time drag by, and then the operator was back on.

“I just spoke to the hospital. Dr. Ca

Surgery? Could it be…?

“Which hospital?”

“Nassau Community. Do you want me to—?”

He cut her off and turned to Lowery. “Nassau Community Hospital. You know where it is?”

“Not a clue. Give me the address and the GPU will—”

“Right.”

Luca punched 4-1-1 again. He’d call the switchboard and ask for the address.

“Why didn’t I see it?” he shouted. “The sim’s in labor! That’s why Ca

Lowery gri

“Yes, we did,” Luca said, patting his HK. “The exploding kind.”

24

Romy, capped, masked, and garbed in surgical green, stood between Betsy and Joa

“Work the lather into the skin,” Betsy was saying, her voice slightly muffled by her surgical mask, “especially between the fingers and around the nails.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Romy said. She was shaking inside. “It’s not the blood or the cutting, it’s just that I’ve never even seen—”

“You’ll be fine,” said Joa

“She’s crashing!” cried an accented voice from the operating room. “Something’s happened!”

“Oh, God, her uterus!” Betsy said. “It’s ruptured!” She grabbed three packets of sterile gloves and handed them out. “Just put them on! Forget about gowns and sterile procedure. We’ll worry about sepsis later. Right now we’ve got to move or we’ll lose her!”

The next ten minutes were a crimson-tinged blur through which Romy watched Betsy and Joa

Seconds later, Patrick, looking even more frightened than he had after they’d been run off the Saw Mill, stumbled through the doors into the OR.

“What do Ido ?” Patrick said as Joa

“No Butterfly McQueens allowed,” the nurse told him. “Madhuri will talk you through it.” Then she turned back to the furious activity on the operating table.

Patrick turned to the anesthetist. “Madhuri?”

“Take it to the table over there,” she replied in a voice that was at once lilting and rapid fire. “There’s a basin of warm water. Rinse it off, wipe it down, and then wrap it tightly in one of the blankets.”

“But—”

“Hurry! Get it wrapped up! You don’t want hypothermia! I’d help you but I can’t leave—” She glanced at a monitor and called out, “Heart rate up to one-sixty!”

Gingerly cradling the slippery baby in his arms, Patrick stepped to the cleaning table and placed it on a towel. And now, as it screamed and thrust out its ski

He looked over to Madhuri to ask, Now what? but she was busy hanging a new IV bag, a small, red one, on an IV pole so loaded with infusion bags it looked like a Christmas tree. The baby was still crying so he lifted her into his arms—he felt a little more confident now that she was dry and blanket wrapped—and held her tight against him.

Amazingly, her wails tapered off. And now that he had a chance to look at her, he marveled at how human she looked. He’d never seen a real live newborn. He’d seen photos, of course; whenever the associates at his old firm had entered fatherhood, they always brought in pictures taken right after birth showing these homely, scrunched-up elfin faces that everyone pronounced beautiful. But this babywas beautiful. Maybe because she hadn’t been extruded through a birth canal. A nice symmetrical face, a tiny nose, little bow lips, a light down of hair on her head but none on her body. Damn, she looked human. More so than some of those associates’ kids.