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Rama 3 – The Garden of Rama by Clarke, Arthur C.

Kimberly lit a cigarette with a jerky motion and immediately burst into a rambling monologue. “Yes, yes, I know,” Kimberly said, seeing the disapproval in Epo-nine’s eyes. “You’re right, I’m stoned. . . . But I needed it. … Good old kokomo. . . . Artificial feelings of self-confidence are at least better than thinking of yourself as a piece of shit.”

She took a frantic drag and exhaled the smoke in short, choppy bursts. “The asshole has really done it this time, Ep . . . he’s pushed me over the brink. . . . Cocky son of a bitch—thinks he can do whatever he wants. … I tolerated his affairs and even let some of the younger girls join me sometimes—the threesomes relieved the boredom . . . but I was always ichiban, numero uno, or at least I thought I was—”

Kimberly stubbed out her cigarette and began to wring her hands. She was close to tears. “So tonight he tells me I’m moving. . . . “What,’ I say, ‘What do you mean?’ . . . ‘You’re moving,’ he says. … No smile, no discussion. . . . ‘Pack your things,’ he says, ‘there’s an apartment for you over behind Xanadu.’

” “That’s where the whores live,’ I answer. … He smiles a little and says nothing. . . . ‘That’s it, I’m dismissed,’ I say. … I flew into a rage. . . . ‘You can’t do this,’ I said. … I tried to hit him but he grabbed my hand and smacked me hard on the face. . . . ‘You’ll do as I order,’ he says. … ‘I will not, you motherfucker.’ . . . I picked up a vase and threw .it. It smashed into a table and shattered. In seconds two men had pinned my arms behind me. . . . ‘Take her away,’ the king Jap said.

“They took me to my new apartment. It was very nice. In the dressing room was a large box of rolled kokomo. … I smoked an entire number and was flying. . . . Hey, I said to myself, this is not so bad. At least I don’t have to cater to Toshio’s bizarre sexual desires. … I went over to the casino and was having fun, higher than a kite, until I saw them … out in public in front of everybody else. … I went wild—hollering,

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screaming, cursing—I even attacked her. . . . Somebody hit me in the head. … I was down on the casino floor with Toshio bending over me. … ‘If you ever do anything like that again,’ he hissed, ‘you’ll be buried beside Marcello Danni.’ ”

Kimberly put her face in her hands and started to sob. “Oh, Ep,” she said seconds later, “I feel so helpless. I have nowhere to turn. What can I do?”

Before Eponine could say anything, Kimberly was talking again. “I know, I know,” she said. “I could go back to work at the hospital. They still need nurses, real ones— by the way, where is your Lincoln?”

Eponine smiled and pointed to the closet. “Good for you.” Kimberly laughed. “Keep the robot in the dark. Bring him out to clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, cook the meals. Then, whoosh, back in the closet. . . .” She chuckled. ”Their dicks don’t work, you know. I mean, they have one, or sort of, anatomically perfect after all, but they don’t get hard. One night when I was stoned and alone I had one mount me but he didn’t know what I meant when I said ‘thrust.’ … As bad as some men I’ve known.”

Kimberly jumped up and paced around the room. “I’m not really sure why I came,” she said, lighting another cigarette. “I thought maybe you and I … I mean, we were friends for a while. . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I’m coming down now, starting to feel depressed. It’s awful, terrible. I can’t stand it. I don’t know what I expected, but you have your own life. … I’d better be going.”

Kimberly crossed the room and gave Eponine a perfunctory hug. “Take care, now, okay?” Kimberly said. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right.”

It was only after the door closed and Kimberly left that Eponine realized she had not uttered one word while her ex-friend was in the room. Eponine was certain that she would never see Kimberly again.

5

It was an open meeting of i

I the Senate and anyone in the colony could attend. The gallery had only three hundred seats and they were all filled. Another hundred people were standing along the walls and sitting in the aisles. On the main floor the twenty-four members of the New Eden legislative body were called to attention by their presiding officer, Governor Kenji Watanabe.

“Our budget hearings continue today,” Kenji said after striking the gavel several times to quiet the onlookers, “with a presentation by the director of the New Eden Hospital,- Dr. Robert Turner. He will summarize what was accomplished with the health budget last year and present his requests for the coming year.”

Dr. Turner walked to the rostrum and motioned to the two Tiassos who had been sitting beside him. The biots quickly set up a projector and a suspended cube screen for the visual material that would support Dr. Turner’s

talk.

“We have made great strides in the last year,” Dr. Turner began, “both in building a solid medical environ-

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CLARKE AND GENTRY LEE

ment for the colony and in understanding our nemesis, the RV-41 retrovirus that continues to plague our populace. During the last twelve months not only have we completely determined the life cycle of this complex organism, but also we have developed screening tests that allow us to identify accurately any and all persons who carry the disease.

“Everyone in New Eden was tested during a three-week period that ended seven months ago. Ninety-six individuals in the colony were identified as being infected with the retrovirus at that time. Since the completion of the testing, only one new carrier has been found. There have been three deaths from RV-41 during the interim, so our current infected population is ninety-four.

“RV-41 is a deadly retrovirus that attacks the muscles of the heart, causing them to atrophy irreversibly. Ultimately the human carrier dies. There is no known cure. We are experimenting with a variety of techniques for remitting the progression of the disease and have recently had some sporadic but inconclusive success. At this moment, until we score a significant breakthrough in our work, we must reluctantly assume that all individuals afflicted by the retrovirus will eventually succumb to its virulence.

“The chart I’m placing on the projection cube shows the various stages of the disease. The retrovirus is passed between individuals during a sharing of bodily fluids involving any combination of semen and blood. There is no indication that there is any other method of transfer. I repeat,” Dr. Turner said, now shouting to be heard above the hubbub of the gallery, “we have verified passage only where semen or blood is involved. We cannot categorically declare that other bodily fluids, such as sweat, mucus, tears, saliva, and urine, cannot be agents in the transfer, but our data thus far strongly suggests that RV-41 cannot be passed in these fluids.”

The talking in the gallery was now widespread. Governor Watanabe struck his gavel several times to quiet the room. Robert Turner cleared his throat and then continued. “This particular retrovirus is very clever, if I can use that word, and especially well adapted to its human host. As

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365

you can see from the diagram on the cube, it is relatively benign in its first two stages, when it essentially just re-sides, without harm, inside the blood and semen cells. It may be that during this time it has already begun its attack on the immune system. We cannot say for certain, because during this stage all diagnostic data shows that the immune system is healthy.

“We do not know what triggers the decline of the immune system. Some inexplicable process in our complex bodies—and here is an area where we need to do more intensive research—suddenly signals to the RV-41 virus that the immune system is vulnerable and a mighty attack begins. The virus density in the blood and semen suddenly rises by several orders of magnitude: This is when the disease is the most contagious, and also when the immune system is overwhelmed.”

Dr. Turner paused. He shuffled the papers from which he was reading before continuing. “It is curious that the immune system never survives this attack. Somehow RV-41 knows when it can win, and never multiplies until that particular condition of vulnerability has been reached. Once the immune system is destroyed, the atrophy of the heart muscles begins and a predictable death follows.

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