‘I can handle them,’ Juno interrupted.
‘I have a nutrition guide around here, actually…’ Fae turned around to open a drawer and began rifling through her things, sifting through paper-clipped sheets of paper and files. ‘I know I have it somewhere. You were probably given one when you arrived, but maybe you need a quick reminder; about what artificial gravity does to your joints, about the importance of protein and fish oils…’ She huffed out a frustrated breath, and scratched her head. ‘I was sure it was here. I was meaning to put it up in the kitchen, actually. Perhaps I left it in my room.’ Opening a final drawer, then slamming it shut, Fae said, ‘I might go see if I can find it. Wait here a moment,’ and then walked out.
Juno sat alone on the gurney, swinging her legs, when her eyes caught a pile of laminated folders Fae had left splayed across her desk. Juno glanced at the closed door and then, on a surprising impulse, slid off the gurney and grabbed one. Names were printed across them in Fae’s neat hand. Juno’s fingers found the thickest one, the one with Igor’s name written atop most of the sheets. There were dense pages of text, letters signed off by several different doctors, charts, measurements, blood pressure readings. A glossy leaf slipped out onto the desk in front of her, and she caught it. A chest x-ray. She recognized the ivory cage of his lungs, the pale mass of a heart on the right-hand side, and held it up to the fluorescent light.
Something had been circled in green marker and, leaning in to examine it, she noticed a chalky smudge of white that filled the top left corner of the image of his lungs.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor made her heart leap. If Fae caught her looking over someone else’s notes she would be furious. She might even dismiss Juno from training with her. As the door flew open, she jumped back and the papers fluttered across the desk.
‘You?’ Harry stood on the threshold, looking just as startled. Juno exhaled, scrabbling to put the files back in order.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked as she pushed the x-ray back into the folder and tucked the whole thing under the file marked Jesse Solloway.
‘None of your business.’ She could tell that her flushing cheeks had given her away, so she added, ‘Fae asked me to find something for her, that’s all.’
When she turned again, she realized that Harry wasn’t really listening. He was looking back at the door in alarm. ‘Hey… er—’ he lowered his voice. ‘You know, I’m glad you’re here actually.’ As he stepped further from the shadow of the doorway, she saw how terrible he looked. A brown crust of dried blood was still visible under his nose and the skin on his face was starting to swell. The colour and texture of butchered meat.
Juno opened her mouth but Harry held up a hand, quickly. ‘Look, I know what you’re going to say.’ Her impulse had been to tell him to go away but his shoulders slumped.
‘Look, about what happened… I didn’t mean to – I mean – I didn’t – I didn’t… I’d had a lot to drink, okay.’ His voice had been a little slurred in Juno’s memory. Juno raised an eyebrow. ‘It went too far. It was a mistake. I’m sorry.’
‘Have you said that to Jesse?’ Juno asked.
‘I will,’ he promised. They stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Harry said, ‘I have a lesson tomorrow. With Commander Sheppard on the simulator. He’s finally going to teach me how to dock with Orlando.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘And I don’t want to look like a mess.’
‘You want my help?’ Juno said.
‘Please? I promise not to mock your Damocles Document.’
‘Really?’
‘Even if you drive us all into a communist dystopia. I’ll say, “Heil, Juno.’ ”
‘There are so many things wrong with that statement.’
‘Do I have to beg?’
Juno sighed. Her job as the ship’s trainee medical officer forbade her from actually denying treatment, so she pulled the first aid kit off the shelf, glad to have an excuse to avoid Fae’s nutrition chart.
They walked over the bridge and entered the upstairs bathroom. Harry pushed down the lid of the toilet seat and then sat down, the single hanging light shining between them and into his bloodshot blue eyes.
Juno worked in silence, wiping his skin, examining the cuts. Harry closed his eyes, slowly breathing in the disinfectant smell of the cubicle. His translucent skin was stretched tight across the freckled ridge of his nose. A bruise was just coming up on his cheekbone.
Two years ago, Harry’d been on the cover of Seventeen magazine. His skin had been sprayed bronze so that the blond hairs all over his body were like threads of silver. Throughout his adolescence, he had always looked three years older than he actually was, and the pages had been torn out and stuck to the backs of doors in the girls’ locker room, biro-ed with hearts and names, and moustaches. Then there were the girls who arched their backs for him behind the iron walls of the sports shed as he pushed his fingers under the waistbands of their netball skirts. Juno had never understood the attraction.
Harry jolted upright as Juno touched the disinfectant to the torn skin on his lower lip. Opened his eyes and sucked air through gritted teeth.
‘Does it hurt?’ she asked. Harry nodded.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m glad it hurts.’
SHE FOUND JESSE A couple of hours later in the games room. She tried not to shudder at the sight of him. He was still in the Christmas jumper he’d worn the day before, only patches of blood matted the wool at his collar. His lip was purple and swollen like a plum. Behind the translucent display on his goggles she could see that one of his corneas was bleeding, and his eyes had a wild insomniac glint in them.
‘Jesse,’ she said, ‘you look terrible.’ Her heart filled with tenderness for him.
‘Not now,’ he said, with a frown of concentration.
‘This is what you’ve been doing?’ Juno said, incredulous. ‘Playing a game?’ Coagulated blood flaked at his knuckles and the fists in which he held the controller were swollen. The computer whined and the words GAME OVER appeared on the screen.
‘You distracted me,’ Jesse said, pulling off his VR goggles and tossing them aside in fury.
‘You look—’
‘Stop looking at me, then,’ Jesse snapped.
‘Have you been doing this all night?’ she asked, pointing to the simulator.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ Jesse gritted his teeth. When Juno realized that he wasn’t going to tell her, she knelt down in front of him. ‘Will you let me help you?’
‘How?’
‘I’m a medic.’ She indicated her first aid kit.
‘I need to keep trying,’ Jesse said, picking up the controller again. She watched him in silent concentration: he was stuck on the eighth level, a twin player where he was co-piloting with a virtual commander. They kept losing control of the ship, running out of fuel before they entered interstellar space.
Juno watched him quietly for a while, although she suspected that her presence was making him even more self-conscious, unsteady and faltering, constantly pushing the wrong buttons.
‘You know something,’ said Juno, after two more failed attempts. ‘Once my piano teacher told me—’
‘You can play piano?’ Jesse asked, rubbing at the marks carved into his face by the tight edge of his VR goggles.
‘Well… now, I can only play “Chopsticks” and “Clair de Lune”. But back when I used to play, my piano teacher said—have you ever heard of painting by numbers?’ Jesse shook his head. ‘It’s a canvas with numbers for the colour of the paint. Kind of like colouring-in.’ She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. ‘Well, anyway. He said that my piano playing was like “painting by numbers” – I was playing the notes in the right order and the right way but with no overarching understanding of the piece that I was playing.’