Nestor stepped aside curtly, without replying, and Edwina began her march toward the time clock.
Tim turned his back. He went into the HR office and took all his personal days: two weeks. He grabbed his coat and bag from his locker and was out through the suction tubes before Edwina had a chance to find him.
Tim booked spots for himself and Mimi on a package tour to Tanzania. First, though, he took her to the vet to be tested for pregnancy. The results were negative, but the vet did suggest a contraceptive.
“It’s very easy,” he said. “Just a small insertion under the skin, quite painless, and she can romp around as much as her randy little heart desires.”
But Tim refused. If pregnancy remained a possibility, he figured he’d have good reason to keep Mimi housebound at all times, out of reach of any unfixed vagrant humans. Maybe, he thought, with vague benevolence, a weekly playdate with the vasectomized Yoyo could be arranged, under his strict supervision.
“Up to you,” said the vet. “But I should also let you know—and this is really just speculative at the moment, no official confirmation, but better safe than sorry—that there are reports of an extremist contingent of viruses living off grid, hostile to the continued presence of humans among us, to what they call the sleeping threat of humankind as well as to the cost to animal society of caring for humans that have been abandoned or are injured or elderly. These viral factions are said to have renounced their mandate for noninfection, and to have begun invading humans through sexual contact. Herpes simplex is rumored to be among the terrorists, as well as hepatitis and even HIV.”
“Herpes?” said Tim. “I thought they were one of the extinct species we were unable to resurrect.”
“It seems a few remaining colonies may have formed underground cells, in time attracting others to them. As I say, there’s no rock-solid confirmation right now. But we do have vaccines, synthetic for herpes and composed of volunteer viruses for the other strains, and if Mimi is promiscuous, then I must recommend—”
But Tim wasn’t interested. After the disaster with Sunny, it was hard for him to even pay attention to this kind of complex issue. Or to care. “My insurance won’t cover it,” he said. “I’ll keep her inside.”
And Mimi nodded vigorously. Tim could see that the whole idea of hosting a vaccinating hive inside her little body totally freaked her out.
In Tanzania, Mimi rejoiced and Tim relaxed. They went to see the trailer parks of nomadic human tribes still living in RVs in the safari park, practicing their native customs. Bristling with piercings and mohawks, they welcomed the animal tourists into their ceremonial fire dances, during which they shot aerosol flames ten feet into the air and then huffed the aerosol fumes from contraband plastic bags that they’d squirreled away for generations. Mimi screamed with laughter and hooted derisively at their savagery, but Tim saw her approach one of the tribesmen and lick his arm before rubbing it against hers, trying to blacken her skin like his own. Gently, Tim led her away, giving the puzzled tribesman one of the gumdrops provided by the tour guide to hand out as treats.
They went to the bathhouse and received deep-tissue rubdowns from the elephant masseurs, followed by exhilarating spraydowns and then a pounding under the gigantic cataract of mineral-infused warm mud. Human ownership was much rarer here than in Tim’s own country, and he had worried that he might not be able to take Mimi along to all the attractions, but several of the other travelers on his tour had their humans with them as well; and anyway, the Tanzanian animals doted on her, cooing and clucking and praising her long hair and the tender soles of her feet.
They went to the huge open-air market where they could bet at rooster boxing rings or try to win prizes at booths run by buzzard buskers. There was a giant termite maze in which they were lost for quite a long time, and an ancient, withered manta ray in a cloudy tank told their futures. Tim was going to travel in space, she promised, and Mimi would see something that nobody alive, human or animal, had ever seen before. The market specialized in cryptomeat, something Tim had never tried: kabobs of minotaur, twice-fried unicorn, a sweet, thick chupacabra stew. One of the stalls sold synthetic human meat, which upset Tim very much. But Mimi begged to try it, so at length he gave in. Once she had tasted it, she didn’t like it, so he ate it for her, and found it delicious: light and flaky and seasoned with lemon and honey and dill.
And their hotel was wonderful. The lobby had a 4D arcade where Mimi could amuse herself for hours while Tim browsed the fossil displays showing animals in all their evolutionary stages, or rested in an easy chair shopping for souvenirs on a complimentary compy preloaded with his personalized consumer data. In the mornings a humancare provider came to collect Mimi and take her for a run on the beach and a dolphin-supervised swim in the miniocean with the other guests’ humans. Alone for an hour, Tim had café au lait and tangy, spongy flatbread on the balcony.
At those times, he could grow a little depressed. He was not disloyal enough to try to avoid thoughts of Sunny, but he was surprised by how little her image haunted him. Tim had to admit that he didn’t really miss her. Anyway, he understood that whether she had died or not, he might never know, and either way, he’d certainly never see her again. But the grief of her absence could be quite overwhelming. It wasn’t her he was obsessed by, somehow, so much as the devastation he was feeling now that she’d gone.
But then Mimi would come back and cover him with kisses and Tim would feel that his empty space had been plugged, however imperfectly.
They got back home from the airport late at night and fatigued: Mimi whiny, Tim grouchy, encumbered by the weight of four additional bags of souvenirs and oppressed by the stale smell of the closed-up house. He zapped some tater tots and corn dogs for their dinner and put Mimi to bed without a tooth brushing, not forgetting to close the new human-proof lock he’d installed on her window. This is the new routine, he reminded himself. This is our safe haven. Kissing her forehead, her lips, and her two cheeks softly, he closed the door.
Done in, and distracted by the new routine, he forgot the most important part of the old routine: the bolting of the front door. He had trouble falling asleep, maybe because of the jet lag, or perhaps because he was subconsciously waiting and listening. In the early hours of the morning, it came: the squeak of the hinges, the groaning of the floorboards, the whisper in the dark, the excited murmuring. Tim was not shocked or upset. He felt grim; he felt decisive. Silently, he took from his suitcase the thing he had bought in Tanzania, the thing that was not approved as humane here in his own country. He crept down the hall and eased open Mimi’s door without clicking on the light. The wild male had her in his embrace, standing there holding her, kissing her eyelids, her hair, and her mouth.
“Out!” roared Tim. He extended a flagellating bulge with whiplike power, and it struck the male on the side of the face. The intruder wheeled around, whimpered, then menaced.