The Year's Best Science Fiction: Fifteenth Annual Collection by Gardner Dozois

Author:Gardner Dozois [Dozois, Gardner]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-04-13T21:00:00+00:00

Here she was still in APRT 24, not in Budapest, not in the South of France. With Victor’s banishment, her sister’s teetering state of health had finally collapsed. Nothing Zoranna did or the autodoc prescribed seemed to help. At first Zoranna tried to coax Nancy out of the apartment for a change of scene, a breath of fresh air. She rented a wheelchair for a ride up to a park or arboretum (and she ordered Bug to explore the feasibility of using it to kidnap her). But day and night Nancy lay in her recliner and refused to leave the apartment.

So Zoranna reinitialized the houseputer and had Bug project live opera, ballet, and figure-skating into the room. But Nancy deleted them and locked Zoranna out of the system. It would have been child’s play for Bug to override the lockout, but Zoranna let it go. Instead, she surrounded her sister with gaily colored dried flowers, wall hangings, and hand-woven rugs that she purchased at expensive boutiques high in the tower. But Nancy turned her back on everything and swiveled her recliner to face her little shrine and its picture of St. Camillus.

So Zoranna had Bug order savory breads and wholesome soups with fresh vegetables and tender meat, but Nancy lost her appetite and quit eating altogether. Soon she lost the strength even to stay awake, and she drifted in and out of consciousness.

They skirmished like this for a week until the autodoc notified Nancy that a bed awaited her at the Indiana State Hospice at Bloomington. Only then did Zoranna acknowledge Death’s solid claim on her last living relative. Defeated, she stood next to Nancy’s recliner and said, “Please don’t die.”

Nancy, enthroned in pillows and covers, opened her eyes.

“I beg you, Nancy, come to the clinic with me.”

“Pray for me,” Nancy said.

Zoranna looked at the shrine of the saint with its flat picture and empty votive cups. “You really loved that, didn’t you, working as a hospicer.” When her sister made no reply, she continued, “I don’t see why you don’t join real hospicers.”

Nancy glared at her, “I was a real hospicer!”

Encouraged by her strong response, Zoranna said, “Of course you were. And I’ll bet there’s a dozen legitimate societies out there that would be willing to hire you.”

Nancy gazed longingly at the saint’s picture. “I should say it’s a bit late for that now.”

“It’s never too late. That’s your depression talking. You’ll feel different when you’re young and healthy again.”

Nancy retreated into the fortress of her pillows. “Good-bye, sister,” she said and closed her eyes. “Pray for me.”

“Right,” Zoranna said. “Fine.” She turned to leave but paused at the door where the cartons of heirlooms were stacked. “I’ll send someone down for these,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if she even wanted them. Bug, she tongued, call the hotel concierge.

There was no reply.

Bug? She glanced at her belt to ascertain the valet was still active.

Allow me to introduce myself, said a deep, melodious voice in her ear. I’m Nicholas, and I’m at your service.

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