MINEOLA, NY
DECEMBER 22
Romy had called first thing in the morning and told Patrick to pick her up. They had a doctor's appointment, she said.
After she'd settled herself in the car she explained that the appointment was with an obstetrician. That had taken him aback until she explained that it was Dr. Cannon, and they were visiting her to discuss Alice Fredericks.
Betsy Cannon worked out of a small office attached to her home, a modest two-story colonial on a tree- lined street in Mineola. She'd already made her hospital rounds; her office hours didn't start until 1:00P .M. so they had plenty of time. Looking casual in a loose turtleneck sweater and khaki slacks, she served them coffee and Entenmann's crumb cake in her roomy kitchen.
"Is there a Mr. Dr. Cannon?" Patrick whispered as Betsy stepped out of the room to take a call from the hospital.
Romy shook her head. "No. Never was, and I doubt there ever will be, if you get my drift."
"No kidding?" Patrick said. "Never would have guessed."
Betsy returned then and seated herself on the far side of the kitchen table. "You wanted to ask me about this Fredericks woman?"
"Yes," Romy said. "Her story is such a mishmash of fact and fiction, we were hoping you'd be able to separate the two."
Patrick appreciated the "we." It hadn't even occurred to him to run the story past Dr. Cannon. And considering that she'd spent years as head of sim obstetrics for SimGen, he was disappointed with himself for not thinking of it first.
Betsy smiled. "Well, I'll be glad to try. I can explain parts of her story - especially the ones about being abducted and impregnated by space aliens - with one word: psychosis."
Patrick said, "That's pretty strong, isn't it?"
"She's delusional, she has a persistent break with reality that interferes with her day-to-day functioning. That behavior fits the diagnosis. The sad thing is, she can be easily helped. The right medications could restore her neurochemicals to proper balance and she'd come back to the real world."
"Neurochemicals," Romy murmured. "They'll get you every time."
Patrick shot her a questioning glance but she only shrugged and waved it off.
"Delusional or not," he said, getting back on track, "she gave us the check. And unless I'm delusional too, it looks pretty real."
Betsy smiled. "I'm sure it is. And you'll notice I didn't include the part about her giving birth to a sim as one of her delusions."
"You don't really think...," Romy said, frowning. She glanced at Patrick. "I mean, how...?"
"It's obvious when you think about it," Betsy told her. "Human surrogate mothers were a necessity in the early stages of the sim breeding process."
Romy's face twisted in revulsion. "Why on earth - ?"
"Because sims are considerably larger than chimps. A small chimpanzee uterus couldn't carry a sim baby to term, but a human uterus would have no problem."
Patrick was dazed. "So part of what she's saying might be true?"
"Perhaps not about birthing the very first sim, but...how old is she?"
"Forty-seven - she says."
Betsy nodded. "Then she's about the right age. Think about the implantation process - flat on her back on a table, bright lights overhead, surrounded by doctors in caps, masks, and goggles as they insert an in-vitro - fertilized ovum into her uterus. You can see how an unbalanced mind might later reinterpret this as an alien abduction."
"But to go through all that for five thousand dollars?"
"I'm sure it was more like fifty thousand: say, five in advance, then five every month until delivery. The process is no different from being a surrogate mother for a human couple."
"Except that at the end you don't deliver a human baby," Romy said.
Betsy nodded. "Right. And perhaps that unbalanced an already fragile mind."
"Which makes her one more casualty left in SimGen's wake," Romy said.
"But she couldn't have been the only one," Patrick said. "How come we haven't heard about this before?"
Betsy shrugged. "I'm sure there were many human surrogate mothers before SimGen developed its breeding stock. I'm also sure they signed non-disclosure agreements with stiff penalties."
"Not exactly the sort of thing I'd want to trumpet from the rooftops anyway," Romy added.
Patrick leaned back, thinking. He had a sense that something important had slipped past him here, something Betsy had said a moment ago.
A small chimpanzee uterus couldn't carry a sim baby to term, but a human uterus would have no problem.
And then he knew.
"Oh, Christ! Meerm is carrying a half-human, half-sim baby. Won't it grow too big - ?"
"Too big for her to carry full term?" Betsy said. "Absolutely. Normal sim gestation is eight months, but we don't know when Meerm conceived, so we don't know her due date. That's why you have to find her. If she goes into premature labor while she's in hiding, the baby won't survive. If she's too far along the baby will be too big for a vaginal delivery, which means she'll need a cesarean."
"And if she doesn't get one?" Romy asked, and Patrick could tell from her expression that she didn't want to hear the answer.
"We'll lose both of them."
Romy closed her eyes for a heartbeat or two, then stared at Patrick. "We'vegot to find her."
"Tome is set to go tonight."
Zero had called Patrick this morning to tell him he'd gone back to Newark before dawn and followed the sim bus into Manhattan. He saw where it dropped off the sims at a Harlem sweatshop. Assuming pick-up would be at the same spot, the new plan was to put Tome on line with the workers as they boarded the bus.
"If Tome gets the job done tonight, we could be bringing Meerm here tomorrow morning."
Betsy smiled and raised her coffee cup in a sort of toast. "I'll be waiting."
