The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Six Read online

  Phoebe nodded. “Focus Biggioni, can you tell me why you hunt Monsters? What advantages do you have over the normal law enforcement agents?”

  Another canned question. “Well, Miss Shanks, your question gets into what is special about a Focus.” At least special from the public’s perspective. Behind her, Sam and Bobby were struggling with Curtis’s body, and she heard Bobby swearing under his breath. “As you know, female Transforms produce too much juice and male Transforms produce too little juice. A Focus – as I am – can move juice from women to men and keep them alive.” Though no one had ever figured out exactly how this movement happened. It was physical – put a Transform in an airtight room, and Tonya couldn’t adjust his juice levels. Nevertheless, Tonya could move juice at range, even outside, even in wind and rain (though not as efficiently), so Tonya doubted the standard story that she was somehow directing juice, as a vapor, from one Transform to another. Well, the fact the researchers hadn’t figured out the details didn’t keep the juice from moving.

  “To be able to move juice, though, means the Focus needs to be able to sense juice. What you in the media know of as ‘Transform telepathy’, and what we Focuses call the metasense. Well, the metasense has another use, as well – I can sense the juice of Monsters, even when they’re hiding, though my range is short. In most circumstances, I need to be within a hundred yards of a Monster to sense it.” Not true, but the reporter didn’t need to know the details. Her metasense wasn’t infallible – which she had known for years, and which the murderous rodentoid Monster had proven today. On the other hand, at times when Tonya did her rural Monster hunting, her metasense range seemed much longer – and correspondingly less detailed. “Being able to spot a hidden Monster gives me a very large advantage over normal police and other law enforcement agents.”

  Phoebe chattered on, asking question after question, few of which taxed Tonya’s ability to answer. She kept track of her people as they continued to clean up the hunt aftermath. Sam slammed the car door, Curtis finally successfully loaded in the back seat of the car. Out of sight of the others, Rhonda knelt beside a tree, and lost herself in hysterics. That would not do, but Tonya wouldn’t give her personal secretary grief over her loss of control. For one thing, Tonya wanted to lose control, herself – and Rhonda had found a place to break down where only her Focus knew. Tonya pumped Rhonda, increasing the amount of juice the woman Transform held in her system. Not too much – too much would turn Rhonda into a Monster – as too much juice turned any woman Transform into a Monster. Just enough extra juice to support Rhonda, make her feel better, make her loss easier to cope with.

  “What can you tell us about failed Focuses, Focus Biggioni?” Phoebe said.

  Ah, finally. The meat of the interview, the real reason why the public would be interested in Transforms at all right now. Public interest in Transform issues rose and fell, mostly a total disinterest, unless they had to interact with a known Transform (which the general members of the public didn’t like, which led to many problems), or there was some fracas in the Transform community bringing the Transforms back to the public attention. Transform Sickness itself was old news, though always changing news, discovered and named in the early 1950s.

  “I assume you are talking about Stacy Keaton?” Tonya said, putting her full attention on the reporter.

  “Yes,” Phoebe said. “The public knows about the manhunt, um, womanhunt, uh, after her, and the many people she’s killed, and the killing spree she went on last year. What they don’t know about her is what she’s like as a Transform – how she fits into the Transform universe.”

  What Tonya wanted to say was that she didn’t know what to make of Stacy Keaton, either. “No one is quite sure if Stacy Keaton is a failed Focus, because she was held in seclusion by the government after her transformation – and they aren’t talking, because of what they term ‘national security’. A great many people consider Stacy Keaton to be simply a Monster, just like the one my people disposed of today,” Tonya said. “Consider, though, that Keaton still can pass as human. She can rob liquor stores and banks. She can use firearms, drive cars, and talk. This isn’t Monster behavior. We do know she was found during what appeared to be a Focus transformation, but that something went dreadfully wrong and her attendants died.”

  “Attendants?”

  Tonya glared, her charisma – the number one Focus benefit she wouldn’t ever tell the reporter about – useless at the moment with the reporter’s interest so engaged.

  “When a Focus transforms, three or four nearby women most commonly transform as well, what is termed an induced transformation. These are the Focus’s attendants.”

  “They become woman Transforms? I didn’t know that. I didn’t think Transform Sickness was contagious,” Phoebe said. “I mean, Transform Sickness’s been traced to the Listeria bacteria and food poisoning, right?”

  “Yes and no,” Tonya said. “Transform Sickness is caused by two, apparently new, variants of Listeria. These variants multiply on carrion, including things as innocuous as road-kill, and are now apparently everywhere. However, most of the time, nearly everyone is immune to them.” That wasn’t the right terminology, Tonya knew, but she wasn’t a doctor, heaven forbid! It wasn’t immunity, actually. “However, a Focus’s attendants don’t catch Transform Sickness. They just Transform. No one is sure why.”

  “Very strange,” Phoebe said. Tonya nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She knew far more on the subject, much more frightening things that she wasn’t about to discuss. “So Stacy Keaton’s attendants died, and because of this she went insane, and has become a psychotic killing machine?”

  “I don’t believe they are connected,” Tonya said. “All I know is that Stacy Keaton has a hunger for juice, and can take juice from Transforms. This is half of what a Focus does. She’s also rumored to be unable to move juice at range like a Focus does – according to what I know, she has to touch her victims to take juice from them. Lastly, when she takes juice, she kills her victims – which a Focus can do without harm. This may make her a failed Focus, but there are other possibilities.”

  “Pardon me for asking this question this way, Focus Biggioni, but if something happened to you and you went insane, could you become as successful a serial killer as Stacy Keaton?”

  Tonya met the reporter’s eyes, and smiled. “Be serious. Do I look like any sort of threat to you?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “You look like a college kid who plays tennis several times a week,” the reporter said. Exactly as Tonya desired. Tonya’s true opinion was that if she cracked and turned into a killing machine, she would be able to mow through several orders of magnitude more victims than that damned Monster, Keaton. Although she wouldn’t do so by becoming an over-muscled fake man, as Keaton had turned herself into – or Transform Sickness had turned her into. With the damned juice at work, you could never tell.

  “I’ve done some investigating around and caught a few rumors that Stacy Keaton isn’t unique,” Phoebe said. Damn. Tonya was hoping to avoid the subject.

  “You ever hear of Armenigar’s Syndrome?” Tonya asked.

  Phoebe nodded. “Yeah. Armenigar’s Syndrome is supposed to be a fatal malady that strikes new Focuses, isn’t it, Focus Biggioni?”

  Tonya nodded to the reporter, and snagged her eyes again. “Although the government is not talking, my researcher contacts believe Stacy Keaton had Armenigar’s Syndrome, and survived it,” Tonya said. “So did a Focus in Canada and one in West Germany. There may be others.”

  “So Stacy Keaton’s an Arm? That’s the way the Canadian press refers to the one in Canada,” Phoebe said. “The Canadian Arm isn’t a serial killer, is she?”

  The comment brought an inner smile to Tonya, as the term ‘serial killer’ hadn’t even been used before Stacy Keaton started her criminal career. “She killed a few household Transforms in her day, before she was tamed by a group of Canadian Focuses.” Using methods they won’t share with us because of stupid politica
l games, the bitches. “To anticipate your next question, no, the American Focuses haven’t been able to tame Stacy Keaton, either. We haven’t been able to find her to even try.”

  ---

  “You have a visitor,” Honey Landis whispered to Tonya, just after she stepped through the door into her office. Office, and living quarters, and storeroom, all in one. At one point, this place had been a motel, until the owners had read the writing on the wall, or the City Council meeting notes in this case, and let it decay into decrepitude. Tonya’s household had picked it up as a rental unit while she and her people worked on making their new place, a former inner-city hotel, livable. In a few months, workers would tear down this suburban motel to make room for a new interstate highway. All in the name of progress, to cut down on the traffic jams and make Philadelphia a more vibrant city.

  “Who is it?” Tonya said. She had hoped to get at least a few moments of rest, perhaps even a little time to grieve, a little time to comfort those who had been close to the Luke brothers.

  “Ma’am, she said she spoke for Focus DeYoung.”

  “Spoke for?”

  Honey shrugged. Honey was Tonya’s head of household, her number one Transform, and, to be honest, her head snitch as well. Tonya heard about any of her people who got on Honey’s bad side, and if warranted, punished them. Lowered their juice to painful levels. Tonya’s job was to maintain the flow of juice from Transform to Transform, to keep them as close to the optimum as possible. However, she could use her ability to move juice against Transforms as well, as punishment. Having low juice was painful, a good lesson for those who slacked off in their work or who didn’t obey orders. A Focus household wasn’t a place for laggards and malcontents, with everyone crammed together and always in each other’s hair – they had to get along, and work hard, or else.

  “You have her in the office area?”

  Honey nodded. The formal motel office and lobby were the only place large enough for people in Tonya’s household to meet, and served not only as the common meeting area, but also as their common kitchen and dining room. They didn’t have much choice in the matter – society wasn’t kind to Transforms, and few employers would take on a Transform if they could help it. Many of Tonya’s Transforms were unemployable, simply because they were Transforms.

  “Send her up here,” Tonya said. She glanced quickly around her room to verify her people had cleaned it properly. Neat narrow bed, plumped pillows, two chairs beside a small table with a vase of several fresh marigolds, several boxes of used children’s clothing and old household accounting ledgers stacked neatly behind the chairs. Slightly messy desk, but no one but Tonya ever touched her desk. She sat behind the small desk and thought.

  DeYoung was three years younger as a Focus than Tonya, and had a reputation for being both talented and uncooperative. Not a local, either – she lived in Richmond, Virginia, and was part of the Southern Region of the overall Focus organization, the UFA. Tonya belonged to the Northeast Region, and was rather important, as well – for a year, she had been their official representative on the Focus Council, the national governing board that coordinated all Focus activities.

  Honey brought the woman, to Tonya’s surprise a Transform woman, to Tonya’s office. The woman was stern looking and young, with wavy black hair, a half head shorter than Tonya.

  “Come in,” Tonya said. She didn’t rise from behind her desk. “I’m Focus Biggioni.”

  “Poe,” the woman said. “I speak for Focus Martine DeYoung.” No last name, Tonya read on her, to Tonya’s surprise. The woman possessed exceptional control and poise, giving off almost no emotional signals at all. Trained by her Focus, perhaps?

  “You’re one of her Transforms, then? All the way from Richmond?”

  Poe nodded. “I am held in high trust by Focus DeYoung, Focus Biggioni. I have represented her throughout the country.” Strange. Few Transforms would stand for that, Tonya knew. Most had a hard time leaving the town the Focus lived in – and some weaker-willed Transforms had hysterics if they were forced to leave their household unaccompanied by their Focus.

  “Have a seat,” Tonya said, and motioned the woman Transform to a chair. She pulled it up to in front of the desk. “What can I do for you today, Poe?”

  “Martine and several of us in the DeYoung household have decided to do something about the deplorable state of Transform life.”

  “I see,” Tonya said, turning frosty. Individual Focuses, especially young third generation Focuses like DeYoung, weren’t supposed to act on their own initiative. Doing so could bring the wrath of the normal authorities down on the necks of all the Transforms. “How are you going to be accomplishing this miracle?”

  “We’re putting together a group of like-minded Transforms, both here and in other countries, to lobby for Transform rights,” Poe said. “The laws of all nations, save the nations who have criminalized all Transforms, are silent on the question of citizenship rights of Transforms. This gives the local authorities free reign to persecute Transforms as they wish, it gives businesses free reign to discriminate against Transforms as they wish, and it gives Focuses free reign to treat the Transforms in their own households as they wish.”

  Tonya’s gaze turned even frostier. “Have you enslaved your Focus?” Focus enslavement had happened before. Although the UFA tolerated such aberrations, the Council didn’t give the slavemaster Transforms the right to act politically in their Focus’s name. Tonya’s question was a powerful charismatic demand.

  Poe shrugged off the charismatic demand, and sighed. “No. Martine is out talking to other Focuses and Transforms in the Southeast Region. I was picked to handle the Northeast Region.”

  “The Council won’t stand for this,” Tonya said.

  “If we can convince intelligent and forward looking Focuses like yourself to support our goals, then we will end up working with and for the Council.”

  “I will never do so,” Tonya said. Radicals. Not unexpected. She thought the first generation of Focuses – the ones quarantined by the government and who had later and illegally broke free of their quarantine – held their power too tightly. They had apprenticed the leading members of the second Focus generation, which Tonya belonged to, and brought some of them into the inner circle, but they had brought in none of the third generation of Focuses. The first Focuses had suffered greatly under the quarantine, and they and their people carried mental wounds that would never heal. To some degree, they had shot their bolt breaking free of the quarantine, and were now working on giving power over to the second Focus generation so they could retire. One of the hot items on Tonya’s agenda was politicking for the Council Presidency, as the current Council President, a first generation Focus by the name of Wini Adkins, had already announced she was going to retire after the next full Council meeting in early October. Wini, one of Tonya’s closer friends among the Focuses, favored Tonya for the position, but not all the first Focuses did. There were two other candidates, both current Council members.

  Poe shook her head. “You know as well as I do that Transforms have to move to secure their own civil liberties, or we’ll be consigned to be second class citizens forever. We have to make common cause with the other downtrodden minorities in America and throughout the world. More importantly, we must come to some agreement regarding how Focuses treat their own Transforms – a Focus who enslaves her own Transforms is as bad as the Transforms who enslave their Focus.”

  “All very interesting, and all Council business,” Tonya said. “Is your Focus interested in sitting on the Council?” The South Region representative, first Focus Faith Corrigan, needed replacing. She dutifully represented first Focus Sarah Teas on the Council, but otherwise didn’t put any other effort into Council business. Her mental efforts, such as they were, were all involved with the new Focus mentoring program. Focus Teas wanted Faith out of the seat as well, but Faith possessed her own independent power-base, and so far showed little interest in retiring.

  “Only as a l
ast resort,” Poe said. Tonya frowned, and exerted her charismatic will. She wanted a better answer than that.

  Poe nodded, answering Tonya’s charismatic jab. Yes, this was a well-trained Transform. Few would even notice Tonya’s charismatic efforts. “As the Commander, Martine does not believe it would be correct for her to sit on the Council.”

  The Commander? Tonya didn’t have any idea what Poe was talking about, but her comment did rattle Tonya’s juice. “I know of no Commander,” Tonya said. “Is this something Focus Teas dreamt up?” Teas’ head was always full of schemes and nonsense, one of the reasons the South Region was always a mess.

  “It’s something Martine realized, after the car accident,” Poe said. “We’ve been keeping it quiet until now, but after learning about the Major Transform conflict in Europe, and after the rise of Focus Monster Keaton, we convinced our Focus to go public with her epiphany. The time is right for all us Transforms to claim our rightful place in American society.”

  Strange, very strange. The ‘car accident’ prompted something from Tonya’s memory. Almost two years ago, a Focus died in a car accident, pronounced dead at the scene, only to revive herself a day later, in a County morgue. Tonya concentrated and charismatically ordered forward her memories of the incident. Yes, that was Focus DeYoung. Focus DeYoung lost two of her three Focus attendants in the accident, a loss that left the inventive young Focus mentally unstable.

  “You may be right,” Tonya said, non-committal. “I’ll think about what you’ve said.” And make some phone calls to some first Focuses who needed to know about this development as soon as possible.

  “Thank you,” Poe said, and stood. “I’ll let you get back to your business, then.” They shook hands, and Poe left. After the door closed, Tonya looked at her hand and metasensed it.