The John Varley Reader Read Online Free PDF Page A

“A Halo for an angel. Nice name, miss.” I was wishing I could see his face. He sounded like an adult, but he was sure a small one. Both of us were taller than he was, and we’re not much above average for our age.
    He coughed. “I, ah, I’m sorry I disturbed you folks . . . ah.” He seemed embarrassed. “I just couldn’t help myself. I haven’t seen any people for a long time—oh, ten years, I guess—and I just had to get a closer look. And I, uh, I needed to ask you something.”
    â€œAnd what’s that, sir?”
    â€œYou can knock off the ‘sir.’ I ain’t your pa. I wanted to know if you folks had any medicine?”
    â€œThere’s a first-aid kit in the jumper,” I said. “Is there someone in need of help? I’d be glad to take them to a hospital in King City.”
    He was waving his arms frantically.
    â€œNo, no, no. I don’t want doctors poking around. I just need a little medicine. Uh, say, could you take that first-aid kit out of the jumper and come to my warren for a bit? Maybe you got something in there I could use.”
    We agreed, and followed him across the field.
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He led us into an unpressurized building at the edge of the field. We threaded our way through dark corridors.
    We came to a big cargo lock, stepped inside, and he cycled it. Then we went through the inner door and into his warren.
    It was quite a place, more like a jungle than a home. It was as big as the Civic Auditorium at King City and overgrown with trees, vines, flowers, and bushes. It looked like it had been tended at one time, but allowed to go wild. There were a bed and a few chairs in one corner, and several tall stacks of books. And heaps of junk; barrels of leak sealant, empty O 2 cylinders, salvaged instruments, buggy tires.
    Halo and I had our helmets off and were half out of our suits when we got our first look at him. He was incredible! I’m afraid I gasped, purely from reflex; Halo just stared. Then we politely tried to pretend there was nothing unusual.
    He looked like he made a habit of going out without his suit. His face was grooved and pitted like a plowed field after an artillery barrage. His skin looked as tough as leather. His eyes were sunk into deep pits.
    â€œWell, let me see it,” he said, sticking out a thin hand. His knuckles were swollen and knobby.
    I handed him the first-aid kit, and he fumbled with the catches, then got it open. He sat in a chair and carefully read the label on each item. He mumbled while he read.
    Halo wandered among the plants, but I was more curious about old Lester than about his home. I watched him handle the contents of the kit with stiff, clumsy fingers. All his movements seemed stiff. I couldn’t imagine what might be wrong with him and wondered why he hadn’t sought medical help long ago, before whatever was afflicting him could go this far.
    At last he put everything back in the kit but two tubes of cream. He sighed and looked at us.
    â€œHow old are you?” he asked, suspiciously.
    â€œI’m twenty,” I said. I don’t know why. I’m not a liar, usually, unless I have a good reason. I was just beginning to get a funny feeling about old Lester, and I followed my instincts.
    â€œMe, too,” Halo volunteered.
    He seemed satisfied, which surprised me. I was realizing he had been out of touch for a long time. Just how long I didn’t know yet.
    â€œThere ain’t much here that’ll be of use to me, but I’d like to buy these here items, if you’re willin’ to sell. Says here they’re for ‘topical anesthesia,’ and I could use some of that in the mornings. How much?”
    I told him he could have them for nothing, but he insisted; so I told him to set his own price and reached for my credit meter in my suit pouch. He was holding out some rectangular slips of paper. They were units of paper currency, issued by the old