Impossible Places by Foster Alan Dean

Author:Foster, Alan Dean [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2007-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

THE BOY WHO WAS A SEA

I adore the ocean. I love the way it feels against my skin, the way it envelops me in another medium when I’m diving, the loving yet ferocious force with which it tumbles me end over end when I wipe out while boogie boarding or bodysurfing. When asked, I’m prone to say I have saltwater in my blood.

And to think that would-be writers worry about where to get ideas . . .

“I think I’ve found the trouble. Your boy has saltwater in his veins.”

George Warren turned uncertainly to his wife. Eleanor Warren put a protective arm around their son Daniel, who continued to play contentedly with his transformer robot toy while blissfully ignoring the adult conversation.

“He’s always liked the ocean, but I don’t see how that explains what’s wrong with him.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t mean that he’s attracted to the sea. I mean that he really has saltwater in his veins. And not just plain, ordinary saltwater. Seawater. See?” Taking a thumb-sized vial from a pocket of his white lab coat, he passed it to George Warren, who held the small glass tube close to his face and up to the light.

After a moment’s contemplation he passed it to his wife. “There are things moving around in it.”

Kindly Dr. Lowenstein nodded sagely. “Very unusual things. Exceptional things. One might even go so far as to say extraordinary things. Things without precedent. Tell me; when was the last time Daniel suffered a severe cut or laceration?”

Mr. and Mrs. Warren looked at one another. “Daniel’s never had a bad cut, Doctor,” his mother replied uneasily. “Is there something wrong with his blood?”

“Wrong? Dear me, no, Mrs. Warren. There can’t be anything wrong with your son’s blood because he hasn’t any. Not in the conventionally accepted sense, anyway. His circulatory system is full of seawater. Ordinary, standard-issue, Pacific-normal seawater. Furthermore, it is inhabited.”

George Warren was a hard worker and a devoted husband and father, but he was not an especially imaginative man. He was having some trouble following the doctor’s explanation.

“You mean Daniel’s veins and arteries are full of ocean water instead of blood?”

Lowenstein nodded again, solemnly this time.

“Then how can he live?” an understandably concerned Mrs. Warren inquired.

“Deuced if I know.” The doctor rubbed the little patch of white whisker that clung like a paralyzed moth to his lower lip. In his spare time, infrequent as it was, Dr. Stephen Mark Lowenstein liked to play the trumpet. This in no way inhibited his work or made him less kindly. He was quite a very good pediatrician. “Along with other minerals, there’s a lot of iron in seawater. In the case of your son there seems to be enough to supply adequate oxygen to his system with the aid of some as-yet-undetermined hemoglobin supplement. It’s all really quite fascinating. For consultation, I don’t know whether to call in a biochemist or a marine biologist.”

“But will he be all right?” Mrs. Warren asked earnestly.

Dr. Lowenstein’s shoulders rose and fell.

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