Alice: The Girl From Earth

8

“Well…” Petrov said, looking over the seated archaeologists. “Since no one seems all that interested in eating, let me give you a brief rundown of what exactly I saw in the past. And then we can get some food down.”

The archaeologists approving gestures; some nodded their heads, some shook them back and forth.

“I exited the field of the time cabinet without incident.” Petrov began. “All our calculations were correct. The point of egress was located in a field right next to the city, about three hundred or so meters from the last of buildings. I marked the egress point in my memory and hurried toward the town. The ‘local’ time was early morning, and everyone was still asleep. Or rather, not everyone, but the majority. I hadn’t managed to go a hundred paces before I saw a number of vehicles marked with blue circles hurrying along the roads leading into town.

“Those were ‘Emergency Services’ vehicles. Ambulances.” Gromozeka said. “We already know about them.”

“Correct. Ambulances. I also knew what they were, and so I knew that our calculations had been right. The epidemic was in the city. I hurried toward town.”

“Hold on!” Purr suddenly shouted. “You did have your shots, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Petrov said. “I’ve had the full spectrum of shots for all known extraterrestrial diseases that affect human beings. And, most definitely, Space Plague.”

Gromozeka, as though he were remembering something, pulled a note book from the pocket on his round belly and wrote down a few words.

“The vehicles stopped in front of the hospital.” Petrov continued.

“We know.” The archaeologist who looked like a spider on long legs said. “We excavated it.”

Petrov sighed.

“If someone else would like to interrupt the good Doctor,” Gromozeka roared, “we can take them away from here and lock them in a tent.”

“Right.” The archaeologists said.

“I saw them carrying sick people on stretchers. But I did not stay in the area because Richard was waiting for me and would have gotten worried. I headed for the newspaper kiosk. The kiosk was open, but I couldn’t see anyone around. Only when I looked inside did I see the proprietor laying on the floor.

“‘Are you feeling badly?’“ I asked him.

“‘I’m sick. Like everyone else.’“ The newspaper seller said.

“‘Any way I can get newspapers?’“ I asked.

“‘Take whatever you want.’ The kiosk attendant said. ‘Just call the EMTs. There’s no way I can get to the hospital myself.’

“I gathered up all the newspapers I could carry and hurried to the hospital. I told one of the attendants on duty that there was a sick person laying in the newspaper kiosk, but he just waved me off. I could see they were all exhausted. I looked through the hospitals windows and I could see people laying in the corridors side by side. There weren’t enough beds for the dying.

“So I returned to the kiosk and dragged out the sales clerk. He was really very small… just about Alice’s height… and carrying him wasn’t at all difficult. I left him at the hospital entrance, but I didn’t go inside because they had all started to stare at me; I am, after all, half again taller than the average Coleidan.

“But I did manage to photograph everything I saw, because I suspect our specialists will be able to learn a lot from the photos. Other than that, I took money of various denominations from the kiosk; the proprietor is never going to need it, but if we send anyone else into the past again they will find it useful. That’s all. Let’s have breakfast.”

“One moment.” Gromozeka said. “Before we sit down to eat, I’d like everyone, without exception, excavators and guests, to head for the medical tent.”

“Why?”

“Everyone should have their inoculations against Space Plague up to date. All of us.”

Alice hated shots, but Gromozeka noticed she was veering away from the medical tent and ran after her.

“Listen, my child.” He said in a loud whisper. “I have a special job for you. You’re going to get shots not only against Space Plague but for every communicable sickness known. The doctor’s already been warned.”

“But why, Gromozeka?” Alice said. “I really hate needles.”

“You remember I told you to be ready for a special mission? Without the needles, we can’t even begin to think of it!”

So Alice had to go to the medical tent, bare her arm and let it be turned into a pincushion, swallow seven large tablets and drink down terribly salty drops for Cosa’s Palsy, a remarkable disease from which no one had gotten sick but which all the doctors thought was an immanent threat to her health.

Alice bravely endured all the inoculations because she believed Gromozeka. He would not have asked her to do this for no reason at all.

The last needles and tablets made Alice feel sick. Her body began to shiver, her head hurt and her teeth ached. But the doctor, who resembled a large garden watering can on legs, said that was to be expected and tomorrow the incapacity would pass. Alice was compelled to lay in the tent and there was nothing she could do while all the remaining archaeologists questioned Petrov for the rest of the day and poured over the photos.