A Fire in the Sun by George Alec Effinger

Author:George Alec Effinger [Effinger, George Alec]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Adventure, Cyberpunk, Genetic Engineering
ISBN: 9781497605671
Google: Kg8eAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00J3EU612
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

One of the firemen rinsed me with sterile water, then wrapped me in a sheet and rinsed me again. "Here," he said, handing me a glass of water. "This'll make your mouth and throat feel better. You're gonna have to go to the hospital."

"Why?" I asked. I hadn't yet realized how badly I was burned.

"I will go with you, yaa Sidi," said Kmuzu.

"Papa?" I said.

"He also needs immediate medical attention," said Kmuzu.

"We'll go together then," I said.

The firemen led me to an ambulance. Friedlander Bey had already been put on a stretcher and lifted inside. Kmuzu helped me up into the vehicle. He beckoned to-ward me, and I leaned down toward him. "While you're recuperating in the hospital," he said softly, "I will see if I can learn who set this fire."

I looked at him for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. I blinked and realized that all my eyelashes had been burned off. "You think it's arson?" I said.

The ambulance driver closed one of the rear doors. "I have proof," said Kmuzu. Then the driver closed the sec-ond door. A moment later, Papa and I were speeding through the constricted streets, siren screaming. Papa didn't move on his stretcher. He looked pitifully frail. I didn't feel so well myself. I suppose it was my punishment for laughing at Hexagram Six.

y mother had brought me pistachio nuts and fresh figs, but I was still having some trouble swallowing. "Then have some of this," she said. "I even brought a spoon." She took the lid from a plastic bowl and set it on the hospital tray table. She was very self-conscious about this visit.

I was sedated, but not as sedated as I could have been. Still, a mild dose of Sonneine from a perfusor is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Of course, I own an experimental daddy that blocks pain, and I could have chipped it in and stayed completely clearheaded and lu-cid. I just didn't want to use it. I hadn't told my doctors and nurses about it, because I'd rather have the drug. Hospitals are too tedious to endure sober.

I lifted my head from the pillow. "What is it?" I asked in a hoarse voice. I leaned forward and took the plastic bowl.

"Curdled camel's milk," said my mother. "You used to love that when you were sick. When you were little." I thought I detected an uncharacteristic softness in her voice.

Curdled camel's milk doesn't sound like something that could get you to jump out of bed with glee. It isn't, and I didn't. I picked up the spoon, however, and made a show of enjoying it just to please her. Maybe if I ate some of the stuff, she'd be satisfied and leave. Then I could call for another shot of Sonneine and take a nice nap. That's what was worst about being in the hospital: reassuring all the visitors and listening to the histories of their own ill-nesses and accidents, which were always of far more trau-matic proportions than yours.

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