November 30
Elton picked up his newspad and touched the download button. He selected the Ross Times and a few seconds later the headline appeared: "Fish Rediscovered Near Sea Floor Vents." He touched the animation icon and a silver-gray fish swam across the screen, its tail and fins moving in perfect synchrony. "Now that's a beautiful fish." admired Elton. He was talking to himself, but Martha overheard.
"What fish?" she asked in surprise, as she put the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher.
"It's on the front page of the Ross Times." Elton read the article and condensed it for her benefit. "They found four new species of fish near the Mid-Atlantic hydrothermal vents. They eat the smaller tube worms, which thrive on the nutrients near the vents. It's a pretty amazing ecosystem. ... Hmm. These are old fish; scientists thought they went extinct long ago. Well here they are! There's a picture of, um, some kind of halibut I guess. It's very pretty, the way it swims. I suppose a lot of fish have relocated to the cooler depths; we just don't know they're there."
"Life finds a way, doesn't it." replied Martha as she came in from the kitchen. She avoided the coffee table with practiced ease and sat down on the couch next to Elton, who was turning virtual pages by touching the next button.
"Not much in the news today." He tapped the weather icon. "That's odd. Looks like a storm is headed this way." He called up the weather map, where arrows protruded from thick black clouds, indicating speed and direction. "Or maybe it'll pass to the north; I can't tell. No rain yet, but lots of heavy clouds."
"Rain?" asked Martha. "Why it's practically December!" Steam from the boiling equatorial waters usually moved towards the colder pole, and condensed into welcome winter rains that refilled lakes and aquifers, while the summer pole dried up and baked under the hot sun. But weather was, and always will be, unpredictable.
"Yeah, that's a little odd," replied Elton, "but I'm not complaining - we could use the water. We didn't really get our share last winter."
Elton skipped past the comics, which weren't terribly funny today, and perused the sports section. "The Reds beat the Blues yesterday, 6 to 3. Bout time - we've lost the last five games." There were only two professional baseball teams in Antarctica, the Reds and the Blues, and they played in the one and only air-conditioned stadium. Elton was a Reds fan, for no particular reason.
He put the newspad back on the table. "Not much happening today." he summarized.
Martha went over to her favorite recliner and started her computer. "Linux 21.13.58, speech enabled." announced the synthesized voice.
"You're workin tonight?" asked Elton.
"No, just thought I'd send a couple of emails to our kids." Martha was referring to two girls and three boys that were assigned to them under the Big Brother Big Sister program. Part-time parents with few responsibilities; that suited them just fine.
"Oh that reminds me," said Elton, gently trumping the stream of high-speed synthesized speech. Martha tapped the pause key, and Elton continued. "You don't have to write to Terry, he's coming over tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday you know, and he hasn't seen us in at least a month. I hope that's all right - I didn't think you had any plans."
"No plans." she replied. "That'll be great."
"He wants to come early if he can, maybe for breakfast, so if I'm still in bed, ..."
"No problem." she assured him. "We'll have breakfast and talk."
"Good, and then, maybe we can go to the zoo. They've got a new exhibit, giant cats. Lions and tigers, or something like that - cats big enough to eat a person. Or maybe we can go see the Reds play tomorrow. Terry likes that."
Martha's computer was talking again, a subtle hint that the conversation was over. Elton went into his bedroom, leaving Martha to her correspondence. He decided to work out on the treadmill, take a shower, and get to bed at a decent hour, in case Terry came early.
Terry's alarm went off at 7, and he sat up in a daze, wiping the sleep from his eyes and the fog from his brain. "Where is everybody?" he wondered, as he surveyed his empty bedroom. A large wooden dresser stood in the corner where Frank's bed should have been. Then he remembered. "Oh yeah, I'm not in the foster home any more." It had been 9 months since the Hansons adopted him, and he still wasn't use to the change. Sometimes he dreamed about his foster home, and sometimes he even dreamed about his birth home, 5 years ago, and he could see the rooms, the furniture, and the faces of his birth parents, as though they were standing right in front of him, clear as day. He could feel his mother's hair, and smell his father's aftershave. He could taste the pancakes they made for breakfast. Just a store bought mix, but it never jumped into Mrs. Hanson's shopping cart. She preferred another brand. No better, no worse, just different, and that was the whole point - it was different. He was tired of different, tired of change.
His world turned upside down one day when he came home from kindergarten to find a policeman sitting in his livingroom. "I'm afraid your parents were in a car accident. We're still investigating, but we think two magnetic sensors failed at once. This is very very unusual you know." Somehow that was suppose to make him feel better. "The car slid off its guideway and into a guardrail. They were traveling at the standard freeway speed, 200mph. Well, um, people just don't, I mean, your parents, well, I'm sorry, but they died in that accident. I am truly sorry." Terry had no other living relatives, and became a ward of the state. The foster home was ok, with two brothers and a sister thrust into his life. It was different, but he got use to it, and now that he was use to it, it was difficult to reclaim his former status as an only child.
Terry stumbled out of bed and located yesterday's pants in a heap on the floor. "Maybe I'll get a new brother or sister someday." he thought as he pulled on his pants. "Maybe soon." The Hansons wanted to adopt again, and had started to climb the mandated mountain of paperwork for a second time. They didn't talk about it much, but Terry knew what they were doing. He continued to daydream as he pulled on his socks. "Maybe a brother sister pair. Kinda like Frank and Susan in the last house. That would be good, as long as they're younger than me. Don't want no older kids coming into this house and bossing me around!"
Terry liked the Hansons, his new parents, his "forever" parents, if there was such a thing, but he wanted something more, which is why he agreed to join the Big Brothers program. He met Elton and Martha in the middle of the long winter night and liked them instantly. Martha was a lot of fun, once you got use to her, and Elton seemed to know all the great places to go in the city. Where would they go today? Maybe the stadium; there was a ballgame today. And Elton would buy lots of hotdogs and soda for everyone.
Terry kicked yesterday's shirt under the bed and walked over to the closet to select a new one. "Light, short sleeve, blue." he concluded with satisfaction. "Going to be hot today, and I might want to walk." The Hansons had granted him outside access six months ago, after along lecture about responsibility, and a couple of horror stories of kids who wandered too far away and died in the summer heat. He always wondered if those stories were true, or something grown-ups invented to make a point. No matter, he had access, while many 12 year olds did not! He could come and go as he pleased, and he did so often. He still had to ask permission of course, "Can I go over to see Elton tomorrow?", but at least he didn't need an escort through the front door, and that was a significant milestone on the road to maturity. Today, like so many other days, he was prepared to exercise his freedom. He didn't have to wake his parents; he could simply walk right out the front door.
Terry buttoned up his favorite blue shirt and looked in the mirror. His hair was a dirty brown mess, and Mom would probably want him to wash it, but she wasn't up yet, so he just smoothed it into place. "Now where did I leave my outshoes?" he wondered, rummaging about under the bed. He pulled them out, slipped them on, took one last look in the mirror, and went downstairs. "Should I eat something?" he asked as he tiptoed through the kitchen. "Nah - I'll have breakfast with Martha. That's what we usually do anyways."
Terry stood at the front door and placed his hand on the panel. He was a short boy, only 4 foot 8, and he had to look up to read the status bar. "Outside temperature, 155 degrees - relative humidity, 26%." Terry began his mental gymnastics. "Dad said I should probably call a car if it's over 150. But I like walking in the outdoors, and we're only a couple degrees over, and it's just a little over a mile to Elton's house. ... A couple degrees won't matter. ... It'll be all right." He picked up a silver-white shade and spoke in a voice that was quiet, yet confident, filled with the certainty of youth. "Exit." The door slid open and he stepped out into the hot sun. The fury of the bright orange star practically pushed him back into the house. The heat pressed against his arms and penetrated his thin cotton shirt, and the glare overloaded his eyes like two sensitive CCD cameras. He unfurled his shade, which resembled an old fashioned umbrella, only lighter, and silver white, designed to reflect the sun's heat. He held it out in front of him at an upward angle, pointing the shaft directly into the sun. The sky around the shade was a featureless dark blue, with a white half moon off to the right. Terry had seen brilliant blue skies before, but only in old pictures and movies. The sun, now tilted towards the red end of the spectrum, provided only a modest amount of blue-violet light,just enough to tint the sky and hide the stars. Beneath the shade the path stretched ahead, a strip of ground cleared of rocks and debris. For two short months in the spring the path cut through fields of grass and tiny white flowers buzzing with insects, but this was summer, and the grass, withered and brown, lay flat against the earth, looking like just another layer of dirt. To the left and right there was nothing but rocks of various sizes and wisps of desiccated vegetation. Farther to the right, the last four feet of lake water formed a perfect mirror, an Terry could see the moon reflected in its surface. It almost looked like two moons, one just above the horizon and one below. Yes, the sky was beautiful, but Terry was getting hot despite the protection of his shade. No time to dawdle. He set a steady pace that would not tax or overheat. As he moved away from the shelter of his home Terry felt a strong wind at his back. It blew the sweat from his hair and kept him cool. He held the shaft with both hands as the shade pulled him along like a sail. Walking was almost effortless, with the shade in front and the breeze behind.
It had been about ten minutes, and Terry was lost in thought as he walked the path like an automaton. The brown earth, the white-gray rocks, the dark blue sky, and the pale half moon in the distance. Suddenly a sharp pain wrenched him from his trance. "Futsack!" he shouted, slapping the back of his neck. "You pissing desert wasps will sting anybody, and for no bloody reason either." Terry paused for a moment and realized spring was long gone. The sun had driven insect life underground for another 10 months. There were no wasps. As if in confirmation his hand struck nothing but skin, moistened by sweat. He moved the shade to the side and looked at his hand under the sun. No blood. What could it be? Finally Terry did the obvious; he turned around, and couldn't believe what he saw. A blanket of heavy black clouds filled the sky, and erased all traces of blue. The storm was a living breathing monster, moving towards him with the speed of the wind. He felt another sting of pain on his stomach, and slapped it instinctively. His shirt was hot, as though it came out of the dryer; but it wasn't completely dry. A damp spot betrayed the location of the invisible wasp. Of course there was no wasp; he was attacked by a large scalding raindrop, and that was merely a harbinger of things to come. In the distance sheets of rain fell from the sky, as clouds of steam covered the land. His house was gone, hidden behind the curtain of falling water and steam. Another drop slammed into his chest, and another struck his arm. Terry continued to stare, like a deer caught in the headlights. Finally he realized his life was in danger, and his adrenaline kicked in. He turned around an ran from the storm like a hunted gazelle. He kept the shade behind him, allowing the sun to roast his face and arms. "Pat, plop, pat." The drops were spattering against the shade faster and faster. Some of them blew in under the shade and slammed into his legs. When he lowered the shade drops began to attack his head. They drilled through matted hair, anxious to burn the tender scalp beneath. Terry raised his shade again and ran as fast as he could through the oppressive heat. Elton's house was still a half mile away, and he literally couldn't breathe. His lungs gasped for air and found only steam. Deprived of oxygen, his muscles seized up and would not move. Terry stood still on the path, his shade behind him, trying to catch his breath while the sun beat down on his face. He closed his eyes against the glare and tried to think of a way out. There were no other houses along the path, and he couldn't go back through the rain to his own house. No - there was only one option, forward march.
Terry opened his eyes again and looked below the sun. Elton's house was clearly visible in the distance. If he set a steady pace he might make it. He would have second degree burns on his legs, but he'd make it. Terry marched along, gritting his teeth against the pain in his lower legs, while the rain drummed against his shade. He had taken ten steps, maybe twenty, when a gust of wind ambushed him from the side and tore the shade from his hands. The rain beat against his unprotected body. It burrowed through his thin shirt and burned tiny red spots into his skin. He had to get the shade back, and fast, or those little spots would blend together into giant red blisters. He ran off the path and jumped over rocks and stones as the shade bumped along the ground just ahead of him. A mad lunge, and his hand clutched the edge of the silver white fabric. He reeled it in like a fish, and held it once again between himself and the driving rain. He turned back towards the path, but it was gone. Everything was gone! Black clouds blocked the sun, and steam diffused the remaining traces of orange light. The storm had taken his sight, and would not be satisfied until it blew the life right out of him.
Terry thought of one last option, and it was a long shot. Perhaps the storm would blow over as fast as it came. He crouched down low to the ground and huddled beneath his shade. Hot water fell in torrents around him, but the shade provided ample protection. For the first time, Terry was grateful for his diminutive stature, as he curled beneath his aegis like a turtle inside its shell. Yet that only solved half the problem. Steam rolled in from beneath the edges, attacked his skin like a corrosive acid, and condensed inside his lungs. Terry put one hand over his mouth and breathed through his fingers like a filter. This helped a little, but he couldn't hold out much longer. The storm had to abate, and soon.
The Hansons usually paid a little more for quality, which is why the shade was still intact. Light weight composite rods formed a stiff skeleton, and a high performance nylon fabric spread across the frame. The silver-white coating sent 90% of the suns rays bouncing back into space. "Durable, and light weight." proclaimed the box with pride. And indeed it was. However, a shade is built to repel sunlight, not a hammering rainstorm. Hot water beat against the fabric like a paper boat in a dishwasher. Weakened by the relentless assault, one of the seams, from center to circumference, split along its entire length in one catastrophic failure. Scalding water streamed in along Terry's arm and chest, and for the first time, he let out a scream, which was swallowed up by the wind and the rain as soon as it left his mouth. More screams would follow, one after the other, until his heart reached 106 degrees and fell silent within his chest.
Martha listened to the rain beating against the window. "I guess Terry decided not to come, what with the rain and all."
Elton peered through the window, but the outside was almost black. Giant drops slammed into the glass and rolled down the pane, only to be replaced by more drops. Behind them, only a veil of white steam. someone could position a sodium lamp ten feet from the window and he wouldn't see it. "Incredible." he marveled. "There's nothing like a summer rain." Finally he processed Martha's question. "Oh I don't know. Terry could take a car, with a driveway pickup at his house and ours. But maybe he figured there isn't much to do on a rainy day. I'll call just to make sure."
Melissa Hanson woke with a start and looked out her bedroom window. She'd seen a few summer rains before, but none like this. "Garit, wake up! It's pouring outside." She poked her husband to make sure he was listening.
"Huh?" mumbled Garit as he sat up in bed. "Pouring?" He heard the rain beating against the house and saw the steam on the other side of the window. "Wow. You don't see that every ..." The phone interrupted his sentence with a jangle that seemed more insistent than usual. Melissa cleared her throat and picked it up.
"Oh hi Elton, how are you?"
Garit sat on the bed quietly, listening to Melissa's half of the conversation. "Oh no, we've been awake for a while." she lied.
"Terry?" It only took 20 seconds for her lie to become a tangled web. If she'd been awake for a while, didn't she know where Terry was? She created an excuse on the fly. "Well we're still upstairs, and you know how quiet Terry can be, so he's probably downstairs having breakfast."
"No. No. I'm sure he wouldn't venture out on a morning like this." Her words belied the sick feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach.
"Yes, he said he wanted to see you today, and we said ok, but he probably decided against it when he saw the rain, or maybe he called a car."
"Yes of course, I'll check."
"Yes I'll call you back right away."
"Goodbye."
Melissa ran downstairs and went to the front door. "Log." she blurted out, and the status bar showed recent activity. "Exit, Terry Hanson, 07:18:43." Melissa suppressed a scream. Her mind thrashed about like a frightened animal trapped in a cage. "Ok, so he left the house. He saw the storm coming and came right back inside again." She looked at the log again. "No, that can't be. The status would show somebody entering after 07:18. So ok, he poked his head out and saw the clouds, and before the door closed he pulled back inside. Then he called a car." She ran to the carport and checked the log: Garit's trips to and from work, and her trip to the store; there was no activity this morning. Reality was closing in on all sides, and there was no escape. She ran through the house calling his name. "Terry! Terry! Terry where are you?"
Garit met her at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed her arm. "What's wrong?"
"He's not at Eltons, and he left the house, and no cars, and, ..."
Her words were jumbled, but he knew exactly what she meant, and he condensed the awful truth into five short words. "Terry's out in the rain." He ran to the phone and dialed 911, knowing it was utterly pointless. Now it was Melissa's turn to listen to half the conversation.
"We're pretty sure my son is out in the summer rain."
"No - no protection at all, except perhaps a shade."
"Yes, that's my address."
He glanced towards the window. "I don't know if he's in the yard; you can't see a thing through the steam and the rain! Look, we know where he went, he was walking from our house to Elton's, and the storm..."
"Elton Bramark, 3249 Farris Lane, ..."
"Yes, that's the one. There's a foot path from here to there, he's somewhere on that path, you need to find him!"
"We can't wait til the storm is over! We need to find him now, before..."
"I know you can't see through the steam, but you've got to do something!"
"Can you at least have the helicopters overhead, on standby, so the moment the storm blows through you can..."
"Ok, good. The minute the steam clears I want you..."
"Yes, I suppose he could have found some shelter somewhere, I don't know." But he did know. The path was nothing but dirt and rocks. There were no caves, no structures, no places to hide. And he knew the thin little shade would never stand up to the pounding rain. Even if it did, the steam would kill you, it would just take a little longer. He knew is son was dead. He held Melissa in his arms and they watched the window together, waiting for the storm to clear.
Hans looked out the window at the landscape below. The steam was clearing under the bright morning sun, and patches of earth were becoming visible. He turned back to Nova, and thought she looked a bit incongruous sitting at the controls. She was a large burly woman, and Hans could almost picture her in a vintage helicopter, before fly-by-wire, even before hydraulics. He could see her adjusting the control surfaces of her air ship with the strength of her arms and legs. What a pilot she would have made, in those early days. Now, 1.2 billion years later, her large hands manipulated thumb wheels and joysticks that were almost too small for her.
"I think it's safe to take her down a little." Hans reported. "The steam is just about gone, and there's good visibility." Nova eased the joystick forward and the helicopter obeyed. "You might go back to the Hanson house and follow the path again." Hans suggested. Nova moved the stick to the right and the helicopter circled back around. Winds blew in unpredictable patterns, remnants of the storm, But she compensated perfectly, and the craft held a steady altitude of 150 feet. She ran the path again, between the two houses, but this time Hans could see the ground.
"Wait a minute." shouted Hans. They were about halfway between the two houses. "Over there to the right. See it?"
Nova guided her craft towards the glinting object. "Looks like a reflecting shade." she commented. "He's got to be nearby."
"I see him." said Hans. "He's dead all right. About 100 feet from the shade. Go ahead and take her down."
On any other day the whirling blades would have kicked up a blinding sand storm, but today the ground was damp and hard packed. The copter landed as gently as a leaf, and Nova cut the engine. They grabbed shades, camera, and body bag, and climbed out of the now-silent copter. A light breeze blew from the west, then from the north, then the west again. They walked slowly towards the tattered shade. "There's no question as to the cause of death," remarked Nova, "but take pictures anyways. It's standard procedure." Hans held a finger on the GPS/time stamp button and snapped several pictures of the shade from various angles. Then they went over to the body, prone, with arms and legs askew. Once again Hans took several pictures, then stooped down to get a closer look. The left humorous and radius were exposed, as skin and meat fell away from the bone like a chicken that had been boiled for too long. The same thing had happened to the face, exposing large sections of skull and teeth. Hans had seen mutilated bodies before, but the smell, it was different. Like boiled meat - almost like the chicken stew he made last night. It almost smelled good, and the flicker of cannibalism that flashed across his mind drove him away from the scene. He leaned over a large rock and threw up.
"Take a few minutes." advised Nova. "I can just put him in the bag, if you don't need to see anything else."
Hans was silent for several minutes, trying to regain his composure. "Hold on." he called back. "Don't bag him yet - something's bothering me." Part of the mystery was that smell, which was both appetizing and revolting at the same time. Suddenly he knew what it was. When he cooked meat at home, the blood was gone, but here, he could smell the salt and the hemoglobin. He could smell it, but he couldn't see it. Where was the blood? There should be quarts of it. He returned to the body on unsteady legs. Hans unbuttoned the blue shirt and pulled it open, disrupting several layers of skin, fat, and muscle in the process. Hans turned away again, took a long deep breath, and turned back, resuming his work. He pulled the shirt away and looked beneath the body. Sure enough, Terry's back was soaked in blood, and now Hans spotted the small trail, leading down hill and into a stagnant pool of water. The rain washed all the blood away, except for the blood that was immediately beneath the body. The pink puddle, 20 feet away, would dry in the sun and leave a red stain on the earth that would probably go unnoticed under the rutilant rays of the sun.
"Never mind." mumbled Hans. "Go ahead and bag him. I'll be in the helicopter. I mean ... I just need some cool air. Can you handle it?"
"Sure, go ahead." Nova slid the small body into the bag without much effort, while Hans went ahead into the physical and emotional sanctuary of the air-conditioned cockpit. He tossed his soiled gloves into the disposal unit and pulled the door to. Fans whined as the environmental unit compensated for the blast of hot air that followed him into the cab. Nova was not far behind, the bag slung over her shoulder. She opened the back hatch and tossed the body inside. When the hatch was closed, Hans pushed the freeze button and the back compartment began to cool down quickly. Sometimes Hans had to laugh at this by-the-book procedure. If an undiscovered corpse bakes in the summer sun for months, does it really matter if we freeze it right away? Is there some critical piece of evidence that would be lost in the next half hour, during transport? Hans had to chuckle, but today he was grateful for the procedure. The smell was gone, and the ice-cold body would be nearly odorless when they performed the autopsy later that afternoon.
Nova climbed in beside him and closed the door against the summer heat. She was about to start the engine when Hans looked out his window and said, "The shades." They had both been so busy with the body, they forgot about their shades, lying open on the ground. Hans jumped out and retrieved them.
"You really need a shower when we get back." declared Nova as they rose into the sky.
Hans wiped the sweat from his head, and swallowed the blunt advice from his superior as best he could. "Yeah, it's really hot, and I ..."
"Not just that." interrupted Nova. "You've got blood on your arms." Hans glanced down at the red streaks above the glove line and was somewhat embarrassed. "Don't worry," she assured him, "I'm going to get a shower too - then maybe we can go home. The autopsy isn't going to tell us anything we don't already know; it can wait til Monday. I don't know about you, but I'd rather spend Saturday afternoon with my family." She smiled at Hans and he nodded in agreement, feeling a little more at ease. "Just don't touch anything with those arms until we get back." she added.
"I'm sorry, I kinda lost it out there today." mumbled Hans. "I've never seen a body like that."
Nova put the copter on autopilot. "Truth is, I haven't either. It's amazing what a scalding summer rain can do." She leaned back as the copter reached its cruising altitude. "Well, try to put it out of your mind. Go home and think of fun ways to spend your overtime pay." Hans smiled at the thought. That was the only good thing about being on weekend call.
Nova set the copter down on the helipad at police headquarters and cut the engine. The autoroof slid across, closing the lid on a large room that protected the copters and their drivers from the elements. "Give the room a few seconds to cool." reminded Nova, as large, noisy fans sent the ambient air back outside and replaced it with cool air. Two policeman came out to greet Nova as she opened her door and stepped down.
"The commissioner says you found him." said the first policeman, without so much as a hello.
"Yeah. He's in the back. Take him to the morgue."
"Did you confirm his identity?"
"No." replied Nova. "We didn't take a portable DNA kit. Didn't think it was necessary. I mean, it's gotta be him."
"I know," insisted the policeman, "but it's procedure. We'll do it when we get to the morgue, and the commish can notify the family. He gets that pleasant task."
The second policeman was already dragging the body bag out of the back hatch, and the first man went around to help. "Thanks." said Nova. "Listen, we're going to call it a day. The autopsy can wait til Monday. Let the Commish know we're punching out. He can page me if he has any questions."
"You all right?" asked the lead policeman as he saw Hans climbing down from the copter. "You look a little green, and it's not just the lights."
"I'm ok." Hans assured him. "It's just that, well, the body's a real mess. Look in the bag and you'll see what I mean."
"No thanks." chuckled the policeman in response, while he and his silent partner carried the bag off. They left the copter room through the west gate, heading towards the morgue. Nova shut down the copter, closed the doors, and put the keys in her pocket. "Let's go." she said as they headed south towards the office complex. They walked down one deserted hallway and then another. Saturday morning, and all was quiet.
"I didn't really bring any extra clothes." remarked Hans as they entered the shower room.
"Well if you take your time about it," advised Nova, "the quickwash unit can probably get your things clean and dry by the time you're finished." She laid her pants on the bench and slid her shoes underneath. "The jeans take too long to dry." she explained. She tossed her shirt and undergarments into the quickwash, and Hans followed her lead. She pressed the start button, and the machine hummed to life. Hot water filled the tub from the side while a scoop of soap dropped in from behind. Wisps of steam escaped from the corners of the lid as the agitator started its rhythmic motion. Satisfied with the progress of the quickwash, Nova and Hans went over to the showers. Six showerheads lined the walls, three on each side. Nova selected the first one on the left, and Hans took the one across from her. After checking the temperature, he jumped in right away and reached for the soap.
"Take your time." said Nova. "I know the quickwash is quick, but it still takes 25 minutes if you want to put on dry clothes. Besides, you need to unwind a little before you head home."
Hans knew she was right. She was always right. He slowed his frantic pace, and started to feel human again.
"Did you see the dog here on Thursday?" asked Nova, trying to pretend it was just another day at the office.
"Dog?" replied Hans in surprise. "Dog? No."
"Sergeant Zimmer down the hall. You know him. Well he went to an old lady's house. She died in her sleep, but she had a dog. The house had a partially enclosed yard and a small push door, so the dog could go out, do his thing, and come back in. Well anyways, he couldn't leave the dog there, in the empty house, so the sergeant brought him back here. I'd never touched a dog before. A yellow lab I guess it was."
Hans just nodded. Nova moved away from the falling water to wash her hair. "The softest fur!" she continued. "And the happiest creature I think I've ever seen. But we really didn't have anything for him to eat, and no place for him to relieve himself, so Zimmer took him over to Animal Central right away. They'll figure out what to do with him I suppose. Darned if he wasn't a nice animal though. Makes me think I should get one, but it's so expensive to get a partially enclosed yard."
She continued to make small-talk, so Hans would have something pleasant to think about, and in short order they were both clean and dressed, and standing in the front vestibule. They called for two cars, since they lived in opposite directions. "You take the first car." offered Nova, as it pulled into view.
"Thanks." said Hans as he passed through the outer door. "See you Monday." The second car pulled up a minute later, and Nova hopped in. Back to her family, and her normal Saturday afternoon routine.