Para James Tiptree, Jr.

El doctor An partió de madrugada en un hipu rumbo al helipuerto de la base militar del Perímetro. No durmió mucho esa noche. Una misión secreta lo llevaría, en el transcurso del día, a través de las principales ciudades de Iris, para discutir sus descubrimientos con funcionarios de alto nivel y un grupo oculto de científicos de SaintRei. No pudo dejar de toser durante el viaje al helipuerto. El conductor hipu comentó: es esa época del año. Sacó una pequeña botella de spray para calmar su garganta.

El piloto del heliplano vio al Doctor An subir a bordo e indicó a los técnicos de tierra que estaba listo para despegar. Una vez en el aire, los pensamientos del piloto volvieron a lo que había sucedido la noche anterior. Se había acostado con una irisiana por primera vez. Uno de los traductores de la base lo había invitado a su casa en las afueras del Perímetro. Tenía que moverse con precaución para que sus hermanos no se enteraran. Habían pasado un par de horas maravillosas.

Solo entonces se dio cuenta de que el Doctor An le estaba hablando. El aire estaba muy frío, ¿podría subirlo un poco? El médico tosió y, en poco tiempo, se durmió.

Cuando el doctor An llegó a Megara, cuarenta y cinco minutos después, el shan que lo había llevado esa mañana estaba ingresado en el hospital. Conducía el hipu por la ciudad cuando un hilo de sangre salió de su boca. Se sintió rodeada por una nube tóxica que cubría su cuerpo y le recordaba todas sus cicatrices, las que tenía y las que estaban por venir: la palma de su mano derecha ardía y la mordedura que recibió de un bulldog cuando tenía seis años resurgió. , allá afuera en un pequeño pueblo en el interior de Munro; le crujió la rodilla izquierda y volvió el ligamento cruzado roto de cuando jugaba fut21 a los quince años en su distrito; sentía un dolor punzante en la cavidad abdominal y sabía que en su futuro se avizoraba una hernia inguinal. Quería recuperar el aliento, pero cosas extrañas se acercaban. Muy extraño. Detuvo al hipu y al shan masculino que la acompañaba la escucharon gritar que una nave acababa de detenerse frente a ellos en medio de la avenida y que de ella descendían cuarenta y cinco extraterrestres de piel verde y máscaras de astronautas. No dejes que me lleven, imploró mientras intentaba arrancarse el uniforme. No los dejes, dijo, y se derrumbó contra el volante; sus manos temblaban. El otro shan la movió al asiento trasero y condujo rápidamente hacia el Perímetro, preguntándose por qué cuarenta y cinco y no cincuenta. dijo, y se derrumbó contra el volante; sus manos temblaban. El otro shan la movió al asiento trasero y condujo rápidamente hacia el Perímetro, preguntándose por qué cuarenta y cinco y no cincuenta. dijo, y se derrumbó contra el volante; sus manos temblaban. El otro shan la movió al asiento trasero y condujo rápidamente hacia el Perímetro, preguntándose por qué cuarenta y cinco y no cincuenta.

La reunión en Megara tuvo lugar en una sala de la base militar. El Doctor An era conocido por su falta de carisma; cuando hablaba con la gente, nunca los miraba a los ojos, poseído por una timidez insuperable. Sentado en una mesa redonda ante funcionarios y científicos, en una sala del octavo piso, se puso a observar el vuelo de los lánsès a través de la ventana y dijo, con voz apenas audible, que para el próximo mes esas aves estarían en África, kilómetro tras kilómetro de pequeños aleteos que darían lugar a una gran oportunidad. Uno de los asistentes notó que estaba más inquieto que de costumbre. Era amigo de una mujer que, durante un tiempo, se había acostado con el médico. La mujer había difundido el rumor de que tenía hábitos extraños, como dormir en el suelo de mármol de su vaina y rezar durante una hora todas las noches a un dios irisiano que predicaba las virtudes del karma. Esto alimentó su leyenda. Pero nada lo alimentó más que su trabajo.

Muy terca, había dicho la mujer. Y jodidamente brillante, di. Como si un concepto, algo que pareciera simple, pudiera retenerlo durante más tiempo, como si no pudiera continuar sin explorar su complejidad. Al principio pensé que era un poco denso. Estaba equivocado. La capacidad de asombrarse ante cosas que el mundo acepta como normales tiende a manifestarse en una mente superior. Demostró que está en otro nivel cuando descubrió esos efectos inesperados de la conversión de serotonina. Es una pena que SaintRei le impidiera continuar. Den vino la contramanda y le dieron un proyecto más arriesgado, quién sabe por qué. Curioso que ideas radicales salgan de alguien tan conservador. Un defensor del statuquo. Le resultaba difícil estrechar la mano de los irisianos. Cuando estaba en su presencia, actuaba como si no existieran. Las mujeres tampoco estaban a su nivel, di. Realmente, yo era como un fantasma para él. En su vaina, holos de la Doctora Held, una dama de su equipo, recordarán, famosa por sus métodos poco ortodoxos, como inyectarse las sustancias que probaron en el shanz. No habló de ella, pero entendí que su muerte fue un golpe para él y quería continuar con su investigación. Entendí que ella, la única, está realmente fascinada con los cultos irisianos, las transmigraciones y los karmas. No sé si él creía, a veces sospechaba que datee quería creer en homenaje a ella. Una forma de preservarla. Entendí que ella, la única, está realmente fascinada con los cultos irisianos, las transmigraciones y los karmas. No sé si él creía, a veces sospechaba que datee quería creer en homenaje a ella. Una forma de preservarla. Entendí que ella, la única, está realmente fascinada con los cultos irisianos, las transmigraciones y los karmas. No sé si él creía, a veces sospechaba que datee quería creer en homenaje a ella. Una forma de preservarla.

y se enamoró de ella. Quería seguir su ejemplo y probó el compuesto. Ver el mundo con los ojos de una planta le había cambiado la vida. A veces charlaban con los arbustos de los jardines del laboratorio. Le molestaba cuando los demás pisaban el césped. Esa primera vez, también había podido hablar con el Doctor Held, quien estaba tan perdido como él en el turbio mundo de las plantas. Eran plantas de río, con raíces subterráneas en las musgosas Aguas del Fin en el Valle de Malhado, y se hablaban de su soledad. No mucho después de eso, el Doctor An se acostó con el Doctor Held. Fue al día siguiente de que la amenazaran con suspenderla por los riesgos innecesarios que estaba tomando. Cada vez que se acostaba con ella, ambos eran plantas acuáticas. Se sentía bien estar allí, flotando en la tranquilidad del agua, aunque a veces, cuando no podía encontrarla, sintió una punzada de angustia y pensó que era el único habitante de un mundo desierto. Doctor Held, doctorita, docdocdoc, susurró, y no hubo respuesta. Doctor aguantó, te veré en el otro mundo, decía, pero luego ella aparecía y tocaba sus manos frías, era una planta carnívora, decía, eres mía, mía, y luego insistía en que no había nada. otro mundo, cada todo está en este.)

During the meeting in Megara, Doctor An explained himself with concepts that only other scientists could understand. Chemical diagrams appeared in the holo in the center of the table. A molecular engineer who had worked with him before tried to translate these formulas to a more intelligible language for the officials, but the doctor cut him off and said he could do that after he left. An coughed and raised his inhaler to his mouth, and the engineer joked:

Careful not to give nus flu.

I wouldn’t mind, said An, and nobody liked his response.

The engineer translated as soon as the doctor left: his team had succeeded in creating an incredibly powerful chemical weapon, he said, his voice cracking with excitement. The gas contained a compound similar to the prohibited MDPV. Doctor An had discovered how to use it effectively. It produced terrifying lysergic visions: the victim could feel like he was fighting against himself, he could think a legion of clones surrounded him, planning to kill him. Visions so intolerable that the victim would attempt suicide to escape from them. If he had a riflarpoon at hand, he would either shoot himself or try to open his veins. He might jump from the top floor of a building or try to drown himself in a river. The gas left no traces, which was fundamental because Munro had prohibited any type of chemical weapon on Iris. The past condemned them. The Irisian uprisings had to be crushed using traditional arms.

Munro will find out, said one of the officials. It’s impossible, a gas like that has to leave traces.

An’s word, said the engineer. I trust him. That’s why his team took so many years.

His lab is famously baddun, said another officer. There’ve been unexplained deaths.

Doctor Held is the one who gave him badrep, said the engineer. She died on her own terms, that’s all there is to it. That’s all over.

(Nothing was over, Doctor An would have said if he had heard the conversation. Doctor Held was the one who put nus on track. The Irisian gods had taught her oare true mission. Long may she live.)

Two officials burst into applause and others followed their lead.

The heliplane arrived in Kondra at the exact moment when, walking to his lab, the molecular engineer thought he saw a hipu approaching him and ordering him to stop. He paused and put one of his hands on his forehead to block out the sun and see the hipu’s passengers. Suddenly another hipu appeared behind the first. Then another on the right, on the left, and two behind him. The hipus multiplied until they became a fleet blocking the streets all around him; he managed to count twenty-five.

Out of the hipus descended shanz with pustules on their faces, long necks, and cleft lips. Shanz with long fangs and fingers with twisted nails.

The engineer felt the breath knocked out of his stomach. He coughed and drops of blood came out.

The hipu driver who had checked into the Iris hospital had died. Her internal organs seemed to have exploded. One of the doctors told an official on the Perimeter that it was a strange case, that before they cremated the bodi they should do an investigation. The official agreed.

The heliplane that took Doctor An to Kondra was not driven by the same pilot who departed from Iris. The original pilot had fallen ill and stayed on the air base at Megara. He was sitting on a bench in a room, pale, waiting for the doctors, when he started retching. He wanted to control it but he couldn’t. Something that was not liquid came uncontrollably up his throat. The pilot saw that his mouth was expelling enormous zhizes with blue bodis and bulging eyes and he screamed, terrified. He scratched at his face and pulled off his uniform as if it were burning him. He started running naked down one of the base’s hallways, pursued by two shanz. One of them shot him with a tranquilizer dart that knocked him to the floor. In short order, he was asleep. A trickle of blood ran out of his lips.

In Kondra, a group of scientists eagerly awaited Doctor An. Before beginning the meeting, they approached to greet him, with the respect owed to someone on his level, someone able to light up a room with his presence. His tiredness was evident, as was his nervousness; it was hard to understand, the doctor was awkward and shy but his serenity in high-tension situations was well known. And then there were the stupid jokes. Two scientists had heard tell that a very active substance had been lost a couple of days before in his lab. They didn’t play around with things like that on a military base.

One of the biologists told him that, in spite of the admiration he felt for him, he didn’t agree with his last project, and he accused him of manufacturing weapons of chemical warfare.

Lysergic warfare, you mean, said Doctor An.

It’s the same thing, the biologist blinked as if afflicted by a tic. The Irisians will be its victims, and they won’t care about its exact name.

We must be precise. But, in th’end, what you say is true.

The biologist didn’t know what to say. He was ready for an argument, not for the doctor to tell him he was right.

Someone wanted to talk about industrial applications, but Doctor An laughed.

The only possible application is military, he said.

His words were lost between his teeth, the scientists had to prick up their ears to hear him. An launched into a rushed speech about evolution and said its course was mistaken.

Cicadas and crickets used to sing and nau they don’t. They’ve adapted to nus, to hide from nus. A stupid example that we could multiply to all levels. We’re capable of’at. Not to mention what we do among lil humans and those we think are unlike nus. I don’t know anymore if a superior race inna future will be able to fix oare mistake. I trusted’n karma. If I did well’n this life, I would return in the next as something better, more advanced. The reward for my sacrifices. But they I had a revelation thanks to you, Doctor Honey. Karma only takes place’n this life. What comes after doesn’t matter. Not even finding you again. We already lived what we lived. That’s enough. We deserve this punishment. We deserve to disappear. We wanted to take charge of the Irisians. Why, if they’re the ones who gave nus these gods? They’ve taught nus to use magic plants. We can only learn from people with these gods and plants. We want to leave their island and leave them in peace. And so, Doctor Honey and I will do all we can to ensure that someday we all disappear, all of nus who form part of this mission.

One of the scientists thought that perhaps Doctor An was drunk.

The doctor kept talking about his work to transform stimulant drugs into hallucinogens. His team had succeeded in synthesizing a compound much more potent that than efedrone, MDVP-2, that they called Honey. If MDVP was ten times stronger than cocaine, MDVP-2 or Honey was twenty times stronger. He described its effects dryly, in four sentences, and few understood. One of the scientists felt inspired to give more illustrative examples.

Imagine, he said, that your brain is a bathroom sink and water drips endlessly fromda tap. These drops of water are dopamine and itsin its natural form, dis. With methamphetamines, what we do is open the tap to the max. With coke, we put in a plug soda water stays inda sink. With MDPV-2, or Honey, we do both things at the same time. The result is that the drug floods the brain and the effects don’t stop. The victim can die within minutes or in five, ten days.

Doctor An looked at him as if envious of his didactic capabilities. He added that animals could recover ninety percent of the time, but humans suffered the worst effects; no one survived more than three weeks. Honey was viable in any environment and it diffused easily through the air. The contagion rate was very high.

An official asked a question. Doctor An asked him to repeat it. He took out the spray and hardly noticed as one of the scientists started running for the door. A chair fell, another scientist jumped over it and ran out of the room. An kept talking, as if nothing was happening around him. The biologist raised his hand to his nose and found drops of blood; an official felt that his hands were burning and saw that Doctor An had become a monster with arms like tentacles and transparent skin—he could see his heart.

There’s no way to defend yourself, said the doctor. What I’ve done is very bad. I warned the officials when they assigned me the project. We’re all wrong, and karma will come for nus all. But, luckily, it’s all over.

An walked toward the door as two officials trained their guns at him. He didn’t try to resist. The officials were afraid to approach him and they ordered a shan to cuff him. He started mumbling something about the migratory routes of the lánsès. He said it was impossible to contain something within the confines of Iris. Everything went to the Outside.  His voice was hoarse.

He closed his eyes as if he were about to fall asleep. Drops of blood ran out of his ears. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, marks of an uncontrolled fever.

Hot hot, he murmured, until you see the wounds. But you won’t die, Honey. I won’t let you die. Karma comes for alla nus in this life, but not for you. I hope I saved you. You’ve stayed there, you were honey and nau you’re Honey. What a terrible truth, daughter of chaos under the golden light, spinning solo’n space.

One of the officials asked for a stretcher. Another said that after what he had done they should let him die. They took him to the hospital in an ambulance. He was there for ten days, fighting for his life, unconscious most of the time, although sometimes the fever made him rave. The SaintRei guys recorded everything, trying to find clues that would help them understand his motives. By then, the two heliplane pilots had died, just like several officials and scientists who had contact with Doctor An on the day of his final flight. They had closed his lab and confiscated highly toxic substances, analyzing the function of the spray, the antidote that he injected before leaving that allowed him to live longer than the rest.

Doctor doc doc, decía la voz atormentada de An en la habitación donde lo habían aislado. Reina, Doctor Held. Oare vida, tu muerte. Si tu muerte hubiera sido tu muerte, evitemos eso. Ellos no tienen la culpa, no. No son nus, pero entonces, ¿quién es nus? Reina, doctora, tiene mucho frío. El Exterior no puede mantenernos separados. Las pesadillas son con nus cuando esta despierto. Cumplir con el deber, la insubordinación y la evidencia de usted. Fuiste olvidado pero no lo estabas. Fuiste el remedio del veneno. Queríamos llamarlo Held. Pero la miel es mejor, cariño. Yo era la abeja y tú la miel. O tal vez tú la abeja y yo la miel. Miel de abeja, miel de abeja. No hay más allá, no hay más allá. Todo se detiene aquí y no hay más.

Su garganta arruinada soltó un gemido. Entonces, el doctor An murió.

Traducido por Arthur Dixon