Tears in Rain Part 12

This was followed by several other articles with anatomical and ethological details, but Bruna skipped them. She looked at the animal again. It was still trembling.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," the detective said gently.

The b.i.+.c.ho had blood on its arm: maybe a cut from a piece of the broken gla.s.s. The blood was red and s.h.i.+ny, like human and rep blood. Bruna stretched out her hand very slowly and the bubi squashed itself up against the closet even more and emitted a little moan.

"Shhh...Be quiet...Calm down...I just want to see your wound."

The animal's hair was thick and strong, but not nearly as rough as Bruna was expecting. She slightly separated the curls, which were stuck together with blood, and inspected the wound carefully. It wasn't much. A small, superficial cut that was no longer bleeding. Under the reddish hair, the skin was gray.

"Okay...it's nothing. See? Calm down."

She stroked the nape of its neck and its back a little. She could see why greedy-guts were so popular; they were cute little b.i.+.c.hos that inspired affection. The animal's s.h.i.+vering was lessening under her hand, although it continued to stare at her with a watchful gaze. Bruna stood up.

"And now what am I going to do with you?"

"Bartolo. Cata. Bartolo beautiful, Bartolo beautiful," said the bubi.

And having said that, the creature took the torn corner of the carpet out from behind its body and, holding it delicately with its two little gray-fingered hands, started gnawing at it.

Cata, thought Bruna. Meaning that Cata Cain had a pet bubi? And Bartolo must be the animal's name. She'd have to get in touch with some shelter that took care of animals.

"Bartolo? You're Bartolo?"

"Bartolo beautiful," repeated the greedy-guts, still chewing.

Judging by the surrounding destruction, Bartolo had been on his own and without food for the past nine days. Frightened, he had probably escaped to the patio during the police search, and that was why the police hadn't found him, although when she'd come in with the janitor, she hadn't seen him either. Could he have escaped earlier? Let's a.s.sume that Cain was a.s.saulted and they injected the mem using force, thought Bruna. Let's imagine the bubi witnessed the attack and took off through the window. Would he be capable of recognizing the aggressor? Didn't they say the bubi was a very intelligent animal? She observed him with a critical eye as he applied himself to chewing the carpet, and she wasn't very impressed with what she saw.

She decided to extricate herself from the pet for the moment and got down to searching the apartment with rapid efficiency. The bedroom, the bathroom, and finally the living room. She didn't find anything worthwhile. The bubi had followed her timidly into all the rooms, but would sit in a corner and not bother her. When she'd finished searching the kitchen area, which was lacking in even the basics, Bruna turned toward the animal.

"What the..."

In two strides she reached the bubi and yanked her wool jacket from his hands; or rather, the half-eaten remains of her genuine wool jacket. She'd left it in the lounge room when she came in and hadn't noticed that the greedy-guts was eating it. She looked at him indignantly.

"Bartolo hungry," said the bubi with a contrite expression.

I'm going to call an animal shelter right now to come and take him away, she thought, enraged. But then she decided it would be better to check first where the pet came from. She bent down and picked up the animal. The bubi clung confidently to her neck. It had a hot, sour smell, not unpleasant. A smell of moss and leather. The rep left Cain's apartment, closed the door, and removed the tweezers so that the police beam would reactivate. Then she went in search of one of the janitors who lived in the huge apartment complex. She managed to find one, the same one who'd accompanied her to Cata's the day of the attack. She'd clearly woken him up from his nap, and he was in quite a bad mood.

"It's Sunday, Husky. You tenants think that because we live here we're your slaves," he grunted through a waft of bad breath.

"I'm sorry. Just one question: do you know if this animal belonged to Cata Cain?"

The man looked at her with sleepy, spiteful eyes.

"I don't know if it was this one, but Cain had one like it, yes."

"Then why didn't you say so when we went to her apartment?"

"Was it important? Anyway, it would have been better if it had disappeared. If it were left to me, I'd ban all those wretched pets. No dogs, no cats, no birds, no nothing. All they do is make a mess. And then who cleans it up? The slave, of course."

"Okay, okay. Thanks, and sorry for bothering you," said the rep, giving him a ten-gaia bill.

So Bartolo was indeed Cata's animal companion, Bruna thought. The detective stood in the middle of the landing with the greedy-guts in her arms, not quite knowing what to do next. Then she heard breathing, light and regular. A gentle snore. The bubi had fallen asleep, his head resting on her shoulder. What the h.e.l.l, she thought. I'll take him home with me for now, and then we'll see.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Bruna woke up with one foot frozen and the other boiling hot, and when she sleepily sat up in bed to see why, she discovered with amazement that one of her extremities was uncovered and the other was covered by a sort of fluffy, red cus.h.i.+on. It took her a few seconds to recognize that the cus.h.i.+on was in fact an animal, and to remember the bubi she had rescued from Cain's apartment the previous afternoon. The greedy-guts was curled up on her right foot and was calmly chewing the thermal blanket. He had already made a considerable hole in it, through which her left foot was now protruding. With growing annoyance, the rep now verified with revulsion that her foot was soaked by the creature's drool, which explained why it felt so cold. The android let out a roar and sent the bubi flying to the floor with a kick. The creature yelped.

"Bartolo beautiful, Bartolo beautiful," he babbled.

"I'll give you Bartolo beautiful! I'm going to call that animal shelter right now," the android scolded as she put on her Chinese bathrobe and bent over to inspect the hole.

At that moment, a call from Nopal came in. Unconsciously, Bruna stretched, cleared her throat, and tried to look vivacious. The writer was very brief. He said he had some interesting information for her and asked to meet her. The rep expressed her delight at the news and accepted, but she couldn't avoid a stab of unease, a worry she failed to decipher to her satisfaction. The memorist made her nervous. Very nervous. Was that merely because he was a memorist? Or because of the way he was? Opaque and ambiguous, arrogant and at the same time, too amiable. There was something about the man that hypnotized her while still sending s.h.i.+vers up her spine. The fascination of a snake.

They had arranged to meet at 13:00 in the Bear Pavilion, and Bruna, who had gone to bed early the night before, had woken up feeling really well despite the business with the greedy-guts. It was the second morning in a row that she had awoken without the shadow of a hangover, a feat she hadn't been able to achieve for quite some time. Now she was standing in the middle of the lounge room, reasonably pleased with life, which was something she rarely felt. She looked at the frightened bubi and again felt sorry for him; the creature had in fact scarcely eaten the night before, because the rep had very little food in the apartment. It was no wonder that he had started to nibble. Never mind the anxiety he must be feeling because of the violent loss of his owner, the abandonment that followed, and so many other changes. Anxiety was something that Bruna could understand. She, too, often felt like chewing and biting, except that she resisted the urge.

"All right. You can stay here for now. You may yet be able to help me, but you have to behave better."

"Bartolo good. Good Bartolo."

Bruna was impressed. The little animal really did seem to understand what she was saying to it. She called a Super Express and ordered cereals with fiber, apples, and prunes for the bubi, and a small shopping list with a bit of everything for herself. Express stores were very expensive, but she didn't feel like going out. While she was waiting for the robot courier, she gave Yiannis a brief holo-call and introduced him to Bartolo, and she even had time to add four pieces to the jigsaw puzzle. Then the food arrived and they both ate a big breakfast. The bubi sat sprawled on the floor, his back against the wall, the living picture of satisfaction. Bruna squatted down beside him.

"Bartolo, do you know what happened to Cata? Did you see anything? Did someone hurt her?"

"Yummy, yummy," said the greedy-guts, a satisfied glow in his eyes.

"Listen, Bartolo: Cata? Hurt? Ouch? Pain? Cata Cain? Attack? Bad people?"

Bruna didn't really know how to speak to him or how to reach his little brain. She acted out an attack with gestures: she grabbed her throat and shook herself, rolled her eyes. The bubi watched her, fascinated.

"Dammit, do you know what happened to Cata or don't you?"

"Cata good. Cata not here."

"Yeah, I already know she's not here. But do you know what happened? Did you see anyone? Did someone hurt her?"

"Bartolo alone."

Bruna sighed, scratched the tuft of stiff hair on top of the bubi's head and stood up.

"Hungry!" yelled Bartolo.

"Again? But you've only just finished eating a huge amount of food."

"Hungry, hungry, hungry!" repeated the greedy-guts.

Bruna grabbed a bowl, filled it with cereal and handed it over.

"Take it and shut up."

"No, Bartolo no! Hungry, hungry, hungry!" repeated the animal while he kept pus.h.i.+ng away the bowl.

The rep looked at the creature, taken aback. She offered him the food again, and again he refused.

"Hungry!"

"I don't understand."

The bubi lowered his head, as if discouraged by the lack of communication. But immediately afterward, he happily started to scratch his tummy.

"Bartolo good."

He's a scatterbrain, Bruna thought to herself; it would be odd indeed to be able to get anything useful out of him. When she got back from her appointment, she'd call an animal shelter to take care of him.

The meeting with the memorist was at 13:00. There was still a couple of hours to go and the rep was bursting with energy, so she tidied up the apartment a bit and did a set of exercises with light weights. She didn't want her muscles to deaden her agility. After that, while the bubi was snoozing (apparently they spent their days sleeping and eating), the rep spent an unusually lengthy period of time getting dressed. She even tried on several outfits. Eventually she chose a form-fitting, rust-colored jumpsuit with wide pant legs. She was almost on the point of heading out when, on the spur of the moment, she put on one of the only two pieces of jewelry she owned: a large, geometric pectoral made from a sheet of gold as light and as fine as tissue paper. It was the famous gold from the mines of Potosi, where it was subjected to a secret chemical process that ensured that the fine metal sheets wouldn't break. The pectoral had been a gift from a human whose life Bruna had saved during some riots, when the rep was still doing her military service and found herself stationed on the remote mine planet. Bruna had made two teleportation transfers, from Earth to Potosi, and back to Earth. Fortunately, she appeared not to have suffered any of the consequences typical of TP disorder. Although you could never be absolutely certain.

"Be sure you don't do anything naughty, Bartolo. And in particular, don't even think about touching the jigsaw puzzle! If you eat anything, I'll throw you out on the street. Do you hear me?"

"Bartolo beautiful, Bartolo good."

So Bruna left the apartment, dressed as if for a party and somewhat perplexed at the excessive care she'd taken with her appearance. But she was in high spirits, almost happy, feeling healthy and full of life, her TTT still a long way off. In complete control of the perfect machine that was her body. The feeling of well-being became somewhat tarnished when, having barely left the entrance to her building, she saw the wretched bluish-green extraterrestrial on the corner, in the same spot as the night before. The Omaa of canine patience. Dammit! Bruna had forgotten about him-that is, she had managed to forget him. But there was Maio, surrounded by a small circle of curious onlookers, and prepared to stand forever in front of her door. Was that the way things were done where he came from? A cultural misunderstanding? Should she have fulfilled some specific farewell ritual, like giving him a flower or scratching him on the head or who knew what? The rep bit her lip with concern, regretting that she hadn't paid more attention to the doc.u.mentaries aimed at spreading information about alien cultures. All the Omaa fauna suddenly seemed to have decided to become part of her life. It was like a curse. Without stopping to think about it, she resolutely walked up to Maio.

"Hi. Look, I don't know how it is in your land, on your planet, but here, when we say good-bye to each other, we go. I don't want to be rude, but..."

"Calm down. I know. You haven't done anything wrong. You don't have to say anything else to me. I know the meaning of the word good-bye."

His sentence sounded like the hiss of a wave breaking onto the sh.o.r.e.

"So why are you still here, then?"

"It's a good spot. I can't think of a better one. No one is waiting for me anywhere else. It's hard to find friendly Earthlings."

The importance of what the b.i.+.c.ho had said registered with the rep. So, then, does that mean he thinks I'm friendly? she wondered. Me, the person who rudely threw him out and who's just thrown him out again. The scene that Maio's words were conjuring up was too much for Bruna, something she didn't feel capable of handling. So with that, she turned on her heel and marched off without another word.

She was walking quickly and had gone about 200 yards when someone grabbed her arm from behind. Irritated, she turned around, thinking it was the b.i.+.c.ho, but she came face-to-face with a pale, ghostly person whom it took her a few seconds to recognize.

"Nabokov!"

It was Chi's lover, the head of security at the RRM. The thick knot of her bun had come loose and her hair, tangled and dirty, was now hanging down around her shoulders. She seemed to have lost an incredible amount of weight in the three days since Bruna had last seen her, or at least her face had become sharper and her skin, grayish and withered, was stretched over a frame of prominent bones. Her feverish eyes were sunk deep within the rings around them, and her body was shaking violently. It was Total Techno Tumor in full flight. Bruna had seen it too many times not to recognize it.

"Nabokov..."

Valo continued to hang on to Bruna's forearm, and Bruna didn't move away for fear the rep would collapse if she lost her support. Valo was leaning to the right and didn't seem capable of maintaining her balance. Her huge fake b.r.e.a.s.t.s now looked like a grotesque addition to her broken body.

"Habib has told me...Habib has told me..." she stammered.

"What? What has he told you?"

"You know it too. Tell me!"

What do I know?"

"They're like scorpions, worse than scorpions; a scorpion gives a warning."

She had a wild look about her and her hand was burning into Bruna's arm.

"Nabokov, I don't understand you. Calm down. Let's go to my apartment. It's close by."

"Noooo...I need you to confirm it for me."

"Let's go to my place and we'll talk."

"The supremacists. They're like scorpions."

"Yes, they're absolute swine, but-"

"All humans are supremacists."

"You need to rest, Valo, listen-"

"Habib told me."

"Well, let's go and talk to him."

Bruna tried to move the arm to which Nabokov was still convulsively clinging in order to free her mobile computer and call the RRM to ask for help.

"Revenge!" moaned the woman.

The detective became alarmed.

"Did Habib tell you that? Did he mention the word revenge?"

Valo gazed briefly at Bruna with wild eyes. Then her mouth distorted in a grimace that was perhaps an attempt at a smile. Her gums were bleeding.

"Noooo," she whispered.

She let go of Husky and, in an extraordinary effort, straightened her battered body and managed to gather enough energy to start walking with a relatively firm and quick step. The detective went after her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait...Valo, let me-"

"Let go!"