Foxfire
Foxfire liked to peddle her bike home the long way, along the berm that sheltered her neighborhood
from the noise of Ganj Dareh's drome. Not that she paid much attention: she typically focused on
her day, the patients, the problems, the successes, the areas where she lacked knowledge, the areas
— more and more — where she could see her own growth. In the process, she put the day away, into
future or into history, depending on whether she had something to work on or not.
And all the time, the alley surrounded her, a lane of structured nature that buffered her and
caressed her, reminded her of context, yet separated her from the mundanity of it all.
This time, she almost went straight home instead of using the alley. Nurse Poplar had called a
last-minute lecture: short, interesting, inspired by Foxfire's own struggle with Possum; but it
took time already shortened by her impromptu duty as escort that evening. Would Meyer be O.K.
with the cancellation? Yeah, sure, why not?
Foxfire started to review the lecture, catalog its high points, but doubts rose through its
content. Can I really do any good for people if I have anything less than Nurse Poplar's level of
skill? How many people will I kill or maim before I get there?
Failure blossomed from the doubts, growing, bloating. It crushed air from her lungs. It
chilled her spine.
She hated this reaction, so primal, so powerful, so wrong. She should fear failure no more than
anybody else, yet she did; the emotion persistently cowered inside her, ready to lunge up through
her, any time a stray thought triggered it.
She grappled for perspective, a counter-balance to those doubts about her nursing talents. Nurse
Poplar rose as inspiration — and foil. I wonder how many people she maimed getting where
she is now? Irreverent, the thought splintered the seige of panic. Its shards spun away, leaving
her gasping.
Foxfire glanced around, surprised to find herself coasting along the alley. Do I have time to go
this way? she wondered with a touch of panic. Too late; enjoy it, she countered with her regained
composure. Glory in Life!
On the left, the berm slope climbed toward a mellow stretch of purpling sky. Close on her right,
blocking out the neighborhood, a row of hard-puff trees kept a rigid parallel, but that's where
humanity's undeniable mark ended. Sure, Foxfire knew, somebody had selected the vegetation,
installed it, balanced it, and checked up on it — Glory in Life again! — but there was such
proliferation, such abandon, such beauty, that the planters had no more than guided it — Glory in
the Lord!
Sort of like a Nurse does with a patient.
Of course, the automata helped. They performed the tests and the repairs. They invaded bodies
with inhuman objectivity, even ruthlessness, and put things right or stanched a malignancy. But
they didn't care for the patient. They didn't add the human factor that really healed.
From within and from without. Nurse was the pinnacle of
human medicine. I will be a good one, she vowed, as promise to herself and as ward against her
demon insecurities.
A flare of trickle vines, like an invasion from the drome, dropped down over the berm and slashed
through the jackrabbit grasses. Foxfire depended on its abrupt kelly-green to mark her way out of
the alley. She caught sight of the exit path among the shadowed feet of the trees, then swooped
into it. Ahead, shops surrounded a transport interchange. Another turn would take her into a
winding chain of houses, including the one supporting the cottage she was renting.
She didn't need to slow for this turn, though. It banked along the backside of Ammaerln
House-row. The long, thin building offered consecutive yards, their gardens gone fallow, their
windows morose reminders of their emptiness. No one had lived there since Foxfire first headed out
for certification training at the clinic.
A man waded through a garden! A woman peered into a window! Gaia's toenails!
Foxfire's thumb jammed down the brake stud. The bike seemed to slide back, its tires hissing with
friction. Foxfire grunted as she held her place on the bike and slowed with it. The bike began to
tip because she never rode with the gyro engaged. She caught herself with a foot.
Could they be looking for housing? No, The Tangent leased no property for gong-she anywhere in its
neighborhood. Could they be part of that stream of unemployed come for the futures rendezvous?
No, they didn't wear the clothes of people on-the-dole. Who are these strangers?
She picked the closest intruder and hollered, "Hey, what are you doing in there?"
The man pivoted, his calm face turning toward her. He pushed air with his palms and said, "It's
not a problem. We're thinking of renting here."
"Where are you from?"
"Why? Does it make a difference?"
Of course it does: this neighborhood belongs to The Tangent — and we like our privacy! But she
couldn't say that. That just wasn't done on Yeibichai. "No. Just curious." But I don't like
it.
She averted her face to the bike and put it back into motion.
What if they expose our Bears? A shiver swept up her spine. Here in Ganj Dareh, the Circle of
Humanity — everyone else — tolerated The Tangent, as they should, but they also looked aside from
the Bears, which they didn't have to.
After all, a Fundamental Pattern of Yeibichai forbade deviations from the Complete Standard Human
Genome — as every child halfway through the Network of Learning knew. The Founders saw the human
genome as a model for pattern languages themselves. So much could vary and not alter the
human-ness of its effect, yet so much defined specifically what it was like to be human and what
humans liked. Like the genome, Yeibichai's Pattern Language defined the human condition, what fit
well within it and what didn't, where diversity worked and where it didn't.
Appearances especially didn't matter. Tall or short, narrow or wide, dark-, medium-, or
light-skinned, red-haired or black, blue-eyed or brown, twisted or straight, or any of the
naturally evolved variations in between. None of these kept an organism from being an inheritor of
the rights and obligations of being human. Nor did intelligence or talent or personality trait.
All these were included in humanity. Nobody adjusted or tampered with these parts of the genome.
You were born as your parents made you, as parents have been making new humans ever since they
began.
The Tangent didn't argue with that. The Lord's arms spread very wide in love and acceptance.
Other traits, though, did define "human." Foxfire couldn't remember them all. Fully erect posture
and bi-pedal gait, sure. Larynx low and out of the way for articulate speech. Two true feet and
two true hands. Unique system for regulating body temperature. About twenty-eight traits
altogether.
Nobody tampered with these parts either — except where flaws occurred and threatened an
individual. Genetic diseases had been cleaned up long ago, but only enough to preserve life and
eliminate chronic pain. The Founders did not tamper with deformity, whether mutated or inherited,
nor other variations, as reminders that life is not fair and it's not what happens to you that
matters, but what you do with it.
The Tangent didn't argue with that either — as long as "human" was not equated with "intelligent
being" and that other such beings — if Humanity ever encountered them — would be accepted
equally. The Lord had made it very clear that Se kept other sheep in other pastures. Since the
Founders had omitted such considerations while emphasizing tolerance, The Tangent chose to see an
overlap there, too.
However, in the matter of humans changing into non-human ... The Lord had thrust The
Tangent into that cusp. They had originally chosen Yeibichai as the vehicle for their deliverance
from Gë's intolerances, and at the time, Complete-Standard-Human as a Fundamental Pattern
had proved no obstacle. Now, though, since Bear's birth, the rules —
No, the rules have not changed, but we have changed within them. Do we leave Yeibichai? No, the
Ruling Elders have decided we can't afford such a move for all of us. And the Bears? No! Foxfire
quailed at the demands of such a trip of these frail, wonderful people. So we have to stay and
work within the rules.
And so many different sets of rules! And how they overlapped! The Lord's Rules dominated, of
course, but even there, they accommodated if Life required. Yeibichai defines how to become a
Nurse, but I chose to become a Nurse for our Bears.
Ah, ndito, she scolded herself. Sometimes, it's not that easy.
Like, people were not allowed to exempt themselves officially from a Fundamental Pattern like
Complete Standard Human Genome, but unofficially ... neighbors could be so generous, even taking
the higher, harder road around Life's petty inconsistencies. Foxfire smiled as the warmth of
acceptance smoothed away the shiver.
But can we depend on strangers to do the same? Prickles rose again. Can we tolerate strangers
when they aren't supposed to tolerate us?
Foxfire trembled all over.
Who can I report this to? The question seemed odd, as if her conscience disagreed with her
feelings.
Okra, I have to tell Okra.
And I could take the chance to ask about going to work for him.
Not now. After I graduate with Honors on my Nurse's Cap, then I'll be ready to ask him.
Kaparos!
No, just cautious.
Foxfire headed for home and its private entrance to the Mirnaya Direvnya.
