Burn | Page 8

after all, to get better as fast he could and rejoin the unit. He had not been sent
to hospital to bother the High Gregory of Kenning, luck maker of the L'ung -- whoever
they were.
But trouble never arrived. He stayed as far away from his room and the tell as he could
get. He played cards with Val Montilly and Sleepy Thorn from the Sixth Engineers, who
were recovering from smoke inhalation they had suffered in the Coldstep burn. They
were undergoing alveolar reconstruction to restore full lung function. Their voices were
like ripsaws but they were otherwise in good spirits. Spur won enough from Sleepy on a
single round of Fool All to pay for the new apple press he'd been wanting for the orchard.
Of course, he would never be able to tell his father or Comfort where the money had
come from.
Spur savored a memorable last supper: an onion tart with a balsamic reduction, steamed
duck leg with a fig dressing on silver thread noodles and a vanilla panna cotta. After
dinner he went with several other patients to hear a professor from Alcott University
explain why citizens who sympathized with the pukpuks were misguided. When he
finally returned to his room, there was a lone greeting in his queue. A bored dispatcher

from the Cooperative informed him that he needed to pick up his train ticket at Celena
Station before 11 a.m. No video of this citizen appeared on the screen; all he'd left was a
scratchy audio message like one Spur might get on his home tell. Spur took this as a
reminder that his holiday from simplicity would end the moment he left the hospital.
The breeze that blew through the open windows of the train was hot, providing little
relief for the passengers in the first-class compartment. Spur shifted uncomfortably on his
seat, his uniform shirt stuck to his back. He glanced away from the blur of trees racing
past his window. He hated sitting in seats that faced backward; they either gave him
motion sickness or a stiff neck. And if he thought about it -- which he couldn't help but
doing, least for a moment -- the metaphor always depressed him. He didn't want to be
looking back at his life just now.
A backward seat -- but it was in first class. The Cooperative's dispatcher probably
thought he was doing him a favor. Give him some extra legroom, a softer seat. And why
not? Hadn't he survived the infamous Motu River burn? Hadn't he been badly scorched in
the line of duty? Of course he should ride in first class. If only the windows opened
wider.
It had been easy not to worry about his problems while he was lounging around the
hospital. Now that he was headed back home, life had begun to push him again. He knew
he should try to stop thinking, maybe take a nap. He closed his eyes, but didn't sleep.
Without warning he was back in the nightmare sim again... and could smell burning hair.
His hair. In a panic he dodged into a stream choked with dead fish and poached frogs.
But the water was practically boiling and scalded his legs ... only Spur wasn't completely
in the nightmare because he knew he was also sitting on a comfortable seat in a first-class
compartment in a train that was taking him... the only way out was blocked by a torch,
who stood waiting for Spur. Vic had not yet set himself on fire, although his baseball
jersey was smoking in the heat... I'm not afraid, Spur told himself, I don't believe any of
this... the anguished face shimmered in the heat of the burn and then Spur was dancing to
keep his shoes from catching fire, and he had no escape, no choice, no time... with his
eyes shut, Spur heard the clatter of the steel wheels on the track as: no time no time no
time no time.
He knew then for certain what he had only feared: Dr. Niss had not healed his soul. How
could he, when Spur had consistently lied about what had happened in the burn? Spur
didn't mean to groan, but he did. When he opened his eyes, the gandy in the blue
flowered dress was staring at him.
"Are you all right?" She looked to be in her late sixties or maybe seventy, with silver hair
so thin that he could see the freckles on her scalp.
"Yes, fine," Spur said. "I just thought of something."
"Something you forgot?" She nodded. "Oh, I'm always remembering things just like that.
Especially on trains." She had a burbling laugh, like stream running over smooth stones.
"I was supposed to have lunch with my friend Connie day