Taking Care of Daddy

by Brian C. Coad

Ever since Melissa’s mummy’d died, she’d been taking care of her daddy. It was never easy. The first morning of his new temp job with Gimbel City Data it was harder than ever. She couldn’t get him out of their hutch. Her fault, really. She’d put on her prettiest dress so he’d go to work happy. He fuss, fuss, fussed. “You’re pretty as a vid-star.” “No wandering around Gimbel City, huh, precious?” “Wish I could stay home, take care of you.” On and on.

She got him into his jacket. He stood there like a dummy. “We’re doing okay, huh, precious? We’ve seen lots worse.”

They’d surely seen worse. Sometimes between jobs they’d slept on the streets with the didgies till the first paycheck. Not this time.

“Daddy, everything’s perfect. Please, you’ll be late.”

She got him to the hutch door. “You know where our Medisurance card is, in case anything happens to me?”

“Behind Mummy’s photograph. Daddy, it’s almost eight o’clock!”

Finally, he was gone. He’s a good daddy, she thought, I couldn’t do without him. But I wish he wouldn’t hang about so.

I even more wish he wouldn’t keep reminding me of Mummy.

Three years before, Mehssa’s Mummy was suddenly ill. Her daddy had taken Mummy to a hospital. Some surgeon operated on her. She died. Her daddy blamed himself for skimping on Medisurance. He’d go on for hours about how hospitals killed off the uninsured, quick, before they ran up any big bills. Her mummy’d have been okay if they’d been rich, or if they’d been didgies with no money, but uninsured temp was bottom of the barrel. Sometimes he’d cry.

Lucky he hadn’t started up again this morning.

Melissa flopped into a chair between her and her daddy’s beds.

That was enough about Mummy for now.

She picked up the hutch entertainment center control, called up the menu. Nothing worth watching. Her fault again. She’d only let her daddy pay for minimum service.

What to think about that was pleasant?

School tomorrow! The John Glenn private school.

Melissa loved private school. She hated public school, where all you learned was press this, press that on a keyboard, stuff for temps. Private schools taught stuff perms had to know. She was definitely going to be a rich perm when she grew up.

Her daddy’d be one, if only he’d forgive himself about Mummy—

Mummy again! Damn! No escaping her! There was her photograph by her daddy’s bed. She’d trained herself not to see it, but she looked at it now.

By the photograph was a small pile of coins. Dear, sneaky Daddy. If he’d put candy money in her hand, she’d have said no, they couldn’t afford it.

This moment, candy was a pretty good idea. She leaned across the bed and picked up the coins. Her mummy’s grey eyes watched from the photograph. “Daddy didn’t kill you,” Melissa said. “It was that surgeon. I hate stupid surgeons!” She turned the photograph face down. Their blue Medisurance card showed, so that was all right.

But the day was getting off to a terrible start.

I must think of something pleasant, she thought. I must, I must.

She thought of Henrietta.

Henrietta was a kitten her daddy had got for her after Mummy… to take her mind off it.

Dear little furry Henrietta. The kitten had taught her cat talk. They’d been chatter, chatter, chatter all day long.

Thinking of Henrietta wasn’t much better than thinking of Mummy. Next place they’d gone, no cats allowed. She’d had to give Henrietta away.

She’d kept up with cat talk, though, practicing on alley cats. Maybe there was a cat in the hutchery she could talk to, or some other animal. After Henrietta, she’d learned other languages, squirrel talk, cow talk, monkey talk. She could talk to most anyone.

She went out of the hutch and patrolled the hutchery corridors. No animals, but the people she saw were well dressed, and seemed classy. Some looked more like perms than temps. A few nodded to her, probably thought she was a rich perm’s daughter, in her pretty dress.

By corridors and stairs she went down to the basement automats and bought some gooey candy. It probably wouldn’t be good after the first piece, but it was nice to have money to spend.

An elevator took her back up. As she was keying her hutch door open, she heard a noise behind her. A short red-faced man came out of a hutch a few yards away.

The man came toward her, staring at her with crooked eyes. She stared back for a moment, then went on with her keying.

Somehow she’d punched in a wrong number—something she hardly ever did, she was very good with numbers—and had to start over.

Close, too close, the man said, “My dear little girl, you must be a new arrival. Welcome.” His voice was scratchy, raspy.

Melissa made a semi-polite noise.

“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Blackheart, an eminent surgeon at the Gimbel Majestic Hospital.”

A surgeon! The day was going bad again. Melissa saw his twisty eyes run up and down her body, like he was figuring how well she’d cut up. Her daddy’d said you must get along with people, even if you don’t like them, so she forced out, “Pleased to meet you,” or something like it. Then she went back to work on the door keypad.

The surgeon touched her shoulder. “Care to visit with me in my place for a while? We could look at some picture books together.”

Melissa shook his hand away. She said she was too big for picture books. Anyway her daddy wouldn’t let her to go to anyone’s place to look at any kind of books.

“The invitation stays open,” he said. “Goodbye for the moment.”

By then, she had all the numbers keyed in, but she didn’t open the hutch door until he was out of sight along the corridor.

Inside, hating surgeons more than ever, she squatted on her bed, chewed fiercely on her candy.

It was only a small hutch. She began to feel shut in, confined.

Only one thing to do.

She changed into worn old jeans and went exploring Gimbel City.

Melissa loved to see a new city, especially the didgie part. If anything did happen to her daddy, that was where she’d have to live.

Outside, there were a lot of hutcheries just like hers, then the glass-and-chrome office towers at the city center, then more hutcheries, then rolling hills. It wasn’t a big city.

She went to the city center, checked it out block by block. Soon she knew all the shops, which company was in which tower, and so forth. Prosperous folk came and went on the sidewalks. Didgie beggars watched them, grinning when somebody tossed a coin. Melissa felt guilty for spending all her candy money.

At a street corner there was a broad old man on crutches. He had a kindly face a bit like Abraham Lincoln’s, and was missing a leg. He’d be just the one to introduce her to the Gimbel City didgies.

She went by him three times to make sure. As she approached him the fourth time, he spoke to her.

“Can I be of any help, Bonnie Girl? You looking for something?”

“I want to find out where the poor people live in Gimbel City.”

“Well, I can tell you that, for sure. The name’s Yo Yo Johnson.”

He held out his hand. Melissa shook it. She was about to say I’m Melissa, but he stopped her. “Don’t tell me a name. I’ll likely not remember. From here on, you’re Bonnie Girl. That, I won’t forget. We poor people mostly have our habitations on Scuffle Street. You shouldn’t go there alone. We’re harmless, but some of us are a bit peculiar, and might frighten you.”

“Di—uh—indigents don’t frighten me. I may be one some day.”

“We hope not, Bonnie Girl. Should that occur, we would surely make you welcome. May I escort you to Scuffle Street?”

Melissa waved at his tin cup. “Won’t you be losing money?”

“You’re most thoughtful. Whatever I lose, it will be trifling. Come. Let us be on our way.”

Yo Yo, swinging like a pendulum on his crutches, led Melissa away from the city center. After a maze of alleys, they came to a grimy street with a wide center strip of brown grass and drooping bushes. Clusters of cardboard boxes nestled among the bushes. “This,” said Yo Yo, “is Scuffle Street. In these fine residences dwell many of Gimbel City’s most distinguished citizens.”

Raggedy people sat by some of the boxes, taking in sunshine, or cooking over twig fires. Feet in tattered socks stuck out of others. A number of closed boxes had DON’T DISTURB signs on them. There were cooking smells and smoky fire smells and people smells.

Yo Yo escorted Melissa to a box assembly that was almost an apartment, compared to the singletons. He tapped with a crutch. A flap went up. A large-bosomed, friendly faced woman wriggled out. “This is my wife, Sarah,” said Yo Yo. “Sarah, meet Bonnie Girl.”

Melissa shook hands, warming to Sarah.

“As you can see,” said Yo Yo, “we live in considerable luxury.”

“You have a charming home,” said Melissa, talking like a perm. “It is most ingenious of you to have put it together.”

“Don’t spoil him,” Sarah said, but she looked pleased. (So did Yo Yo.) “Would you care to have lunch with us?”

“I’d love to.”

“We’ve nothing but worm soup, I’m afraid.”

“I really shouldn’t trouble you.” Melissa had tasted worm soup before, when they were really short of money. She wasn’t fond of it.

“No trouble. Sarah won’t even need a fire. The cans self-heat.”

So she stayed to lunch. The soup wasn’t too bad, after all, and Yo Yo’s conversation about weather, politics, people, and Gimbel City was interesting. She left in time to be home before her daddy would be back from work. In their hutch, she rested, and read a book, and thought how lucky she’d been to meet Yo Yo and Sarah.

She changed back into her frilly dress. The moment her daddy came in, he said she was still as pretty as a vid-star.

Their second day in Gimbel City, after getting Daddy off to work, Melissa had to decide what to wear to school. Important decision. She didn’t want to give a wrong impression on her first day.

She settled on a blue businesslike outfit. The skirt was a bit short. She put on pretty blue panties underneath, so that was all right. There was no mirror in the hutch, but she was sure she’d pass for a perm’s daughter.

On the way to school, a shop-window mirror told her she would.

In the school, a secretary person took her to her classroom, introduced her to a severe lady in a tailored suit, Ms. Simpson. Ms. Simpson told her where to sit. She sat, and looked around. It was a pretty small class, not more than fifty students.

All morning Ms. Simpson taught cash flow, balance of payments, and other stuff perms needed to know. Melissa followed it easily. She had a quick mind, and had done a lot of reading. Other kids in the class took no notice of her. That was fine. She was okay by her own self, not needing much of anyone except her daddy.

Lunch time came. She found the cafeteria without asking the way. At an unoccupied table, she opened a can of soup, pea, not worm.

A skinny boy came to her table. “I’m Peter Garrity Three,” he said in a squeaky voice. “Can I share your table?”

Melissa hesitated. Peter Garrity Three had thick glasses and a pointy nose. She didn’t much like the look of him.

“If you’ll let me sit with you, I’ll share an orange with you.”

Assuming he’d bought permission, the boy sat down.

Melissa thought how much she liked oranges, and didn’t protest.

The boy’s bag clearly held a lot more than one orange. With all that food, she wondered, why’s he so thin? He brought out sandwiches and two oranges, gave Melissa one, then offered her a sandwich.

She hesitated again, but took it.

“I am rich,” said Peter Garrity Three. “I imagine you are, too?”

“Perhaps.” The sandwich was ham, with a delicious smoky taste.

“That is to say,” Peter went on, “I will be rich. My grandfather, Peter One, made a lot of money. My father, Peter Two, is making a great deal more. When I grow up, I shall do the same.”

“That is precisely my intention.” The way he said “father,” Melissa felt sorry for him. Clearly, he didn’t have a daddy.

“I bet your family’s not as rich as mine. I bet your father hasn’t set up a spare parts menagerie for you, as mine has for me.”

“I’ll have one for my children when I grow up.” Melissa’d read about spare parts menageries. Rich people had them to provide body part replacements for any of theirs that might fail. She wasn’t sure what kind of animals were used, but she was interested. Anything to do with animals interested her.

Peter said: “Would you like to see mine?”

“Perhaps.”

“After school, then. I will take you home and show you.”

Outside the school, waiting for the Garrity kid, Melissa asked little cat talk questions of Henrietta in her head, like, what sort of animals was she going to meet? Would they talk to her? Henrietta wasn’t really there, so she didn’t say anything back.

Peter came. He hoped she was fit. They had to climb the highest hill outside Gimbel City to the best site for a home in the area.

Melissa said she was fit.

At a showing-off pace, Peter led her along the city streets. Soon they were clear of the city and climbing. Melissa asked why he didn’t have a car with a big gorilla of a chauffeur to drive him to school.

“My father believes I need exercise.”

Beyond that, they hardly exchanged a word. Fine. Melissa hadn’t breath to spare for conversation.

Higher up, the landscape grew wilder, their road snakier. They entered a wood with pheasants, peacocks, squirrels. Would Peter slow down if she spoke to a squirrel? Better not, she decided.

The wood ended at an open hilltop plateau, landscaped and lawned. Their path twisted between flowering shrubs and little lakes to an enormous mansion. Peter quit the path and marched her straight across the lawns. He keyed open the mansion’s front door and waved her to go in. She didn’t much want to be shut up inside with the boy. He said, “This is the quickest way to my menagerie.” So she entered.

The house seemed to go on forever. Melissa tried not to be impressed, but was. “Your father must be richer than I’d thought.” “He probably is.”

“But where are all the people? Servants, and so forth.”

“They’re at work. We hire temps and rent them out by day. They pay for themselves and make us a nice profit.”

What a good idea, thought Melissa. I’ll do that when I grow up.

They left the house by a back door. Peter pointed to another nearby building, white walls, no windows. “That’s it. My menagerie.”

At the menagerie entrance, Peter punched in numbers on a panel, 683597213. Melissa watched closely. Her daddy’d said people who know numbers that do things have power. She’d remember 683597213.

The door swung open. She went inside. All she saw was a lot of huffing, clunking machinery. No animal noises. No animal smells.

Peter took her past the machines into a large glass-walled hall. Still no smells or noises. Maybe his animals were only virtual.

Then she saw the walls were really glass cages. She looked into the nearest one. It had a rabbit in it, all connected to wires and tubes and stuff. The rabbit looked healthy, but there was no life in it. It might as well have been molded from wax.

She hadn’t come all this way to see wax animals!

At her shoulder Garrity Three spoke in a lectury voice. “This, and my other rabbits and guinea pigs are for tests. They’re modified to be compatible with my unique biochemistry. I need a lot of them. They have to last a lifetime, and I will enjoy a very long life.”

“All your animals are asleep?”

“Not asleep. In suspended animation. Thus they do not age, and will be in excellent condition when they are needed.”

“But they’re not any fun. I don’t think I’ll stay here.”

“Please do. At least until you’ve seen my larger beasts.”

“Well, all right.”

Beyond the rabbits and guinea pigs there were cages of baboons, each one bigger than the one before. Garrity Three, pointed nose pointed up, lectured on. “These are not for tests, but for organ transplants, in this instance, hearts. You’ll note they are graded in size to match my growth. Some, I’ve already outgrown. My father will dispose of those when he gets around to it. Now something special.”

He guided her to a cage containing a gorilla a dozen times bigger than she was. He was scary. Even asleep, his sharp teeth showed.

“This is my favorite, Cardiac Emperor, with my adult heart.”

He wasn’t Melissa’s favorite. She went on ahead.

“I wish you wouldn’t hurry me.” Peter caught up and glared at her. She was looking at a lot of monkeys in separate cages. After a moment’s silence, he said the monkeys were for endocrine glands. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her on.

“This is my armadillo. It has something to do with leprosy, should I contract that hideous disease. Next, my oryx, my spare liver. Where are you going?”

In a cage further on, Melissa had spotted a huge and beautiful tiger. The oryx couldn’t hope to hold her.

The tiger was the prettiest animal she’d ever seen, prettier than Henrietta. His fine orange-and-black fur gleamed like silk. There was a smile of happy peace on his face. She ached to wake him up and tell him how beautiful he was.

“I call him Shere Khan. He is here for my kidneys.”

This lovely tiger was to be cut up to replace this nasty boy’s kidneys? It can’t be, she thought. It can’t be!

In cat talk, she thought, tiger, tiger, I won’t let it be!

She wasn’t hearing Peter. Suddenly he was right in her ear. “I said, would you like to see the control panel to wake the animals up?”

Her daddy’d told her controlling control panels is power.

She said: “Yes, I would. Please.”

Garrity Three marched her to the console in the middle of the hall. It was like fiye hundred entertainment centers all in one.

As she bent for a closer look, she sensed Garrity Three eyeing her up and down like that surgeon had in the hutchery.

Garrity Three said, “If you will pull up your skirts and show me your underclothing, I will show you how the controls work.”

Backing away, Melissa was half minded to stamp a foot, tell the boy what she thought of him, and leave.

She remembered what her daddy’d said about control panels. Would he mind if she showed a little something to see how this one worked?

Surely not. Besides, she had on really pretty panties.

She pulled up her skirt a tiny bit, not giving him any big show.

“More,” said Peter.

She hoisted her skirt a few millimeters further.

That was enough, apparently. He punched in an access number on the console. Melissa watched and remembered. Everything lit up.

“Would you wake one little rabbit, Peter, just for me?”

Peter said he’d better not.

Melissa swirled around, skirts flaring. The boy peered through his thick glasses. “Well, all right. Perhaps just one.”

Melissa watched. SELECT. RABBIT ONE. REVIVE. Nothing to it. No more complicated than an ordinary computer. Less, really.

Noises came from the first rabbit cage. She ran to it, and was just in time to see tubes and wires lifting away from the rabbit. In seconds, it wasn’t a wax bunny any more, it was a living, breathing creature, staggering to its feet. Then it was bouncing around in its cage, frisky as Henrietta.

“Damn,” said Peter. “I forgot to punch in the tranque code. They have to wake up quickly. One never knows how much time one has in an emergency. But they’re supposed to be tranquilized until they get to the surgical room.”

Hoping to learn the tranque code, Melissa went back to the console. He didn’t punch it in. Instead, he said, “If you will take off your panties, I will wake up another rabbit.”

“What a bad little boy you are!” This time Melissa did stamp her foot. “I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing.”

She was out of there, leaving Peter blinking behind his glasses.

Next day, at school lunch break, Peter ran up to Melissa, went “Nyah, nyah! Nasty little fat girl!” and ran away again. She was tempted to chase him, but didn’t. Other kids didn’t gang up on her like in some schools. Maybe they liked Peter about like she did.

Peter’s brief visit set her thinking about the he she’d told her daddy. It always made him feel good to hear some rich kid had taken an interest in her, so she’d told him this nice boy, Peter Garrity, had invited her to his home. She’d not mentioned menageries, tigers, panties, any of that, just told him enough to make him feel good. He’d felt good. But it had been wrong to he to him.

That evening, her daddy came home with stuff about Garrity Two. He was VP of Medisurance “where we have our insurance,” salary in the upper six figures. She’d done well to make friends with his son.

She didn’t say what sort of friends she’d made. She did ask what Garrity Two was VP of. “Like, there’s Operations, Finance—”

“How does my precious know so much? Somebody said he’s VP, Incompetence, probably sees nobody incompetent works at Medisurance.”

Next day Melissa asked Ms. Simpson what VPs, Incompetence did.

Ms. Simpson laughed. “I’ve heard they see their company doesn’t hire smart people. Then there’s a lot of lost data, data input into wrong files, and so forth. An insurance company c an make a lot of money not paying claims until mistakes are corrected.”

It sounded just the right job for the Garrity kid’s father.

For two weeks, all went well. With a regular paycheck, there was lots of money for rent, school fees, and food. Melissa’d made no friends at school or at home. That was okay. She was fine on her own.

At school she saw the Garrity kid, but easily avoided him.

It wasn’t so easy to avoid Dr. Blackheart. Quite often she ran across him skulking in the corridors. He’d found out who she was, addressed her by name. She was no more polite than she had to be.

Suddenly everything went wrong. Everything.

After school, it rained. It was no day to visit Yo Yo and Sarah on Scuffle Street. She went straight home to the hutch.

In the hutch, a light flashed on the message machine. She pressed for the message. It was from her daddy’s work place. Her daddy was in Gimbel Majestic Hospital with severe abdominal pains.

Quickly Melissa punched up the hospital’s number. She pressed keys to let the hospital’s machine know she was inquiring about her daddy, a patient, an “Insured Temp.”

A woman came on line. She could find no record of Melissa’s daddy! Melissa begged her to search. She said she’d run the computer by her again.

Waiting, Mehssa twisted her hair in her fingers until it hurt.

The woman came back. “I’ve found your father. He’s here, classified ‘Uninsured Temp.’ The ward lists his condition as stable.”

Melissa keyed off, “uninsured temp” echoing in her ears.

She remembered what had happened to her mummy.

She was terrified for her daddy, couldn’t think straight, didn’t know what to do.

She made herself, made herself, calm down.

The Medisurance card behind her mummy’s photograph!

The moment she had the card in her hand, she was ready to run to the hospital. But she was still in her good school clothes. It wouldn’t do to go there looking like a little rich girl.

She changed to jeans, a sweater. Then she was out of the hutch.

And into the arms of Dr. Blackheart! It was almost like he was waiting for her. She’d nearly knocked him down.

He grabbed her, to balance himself. Balanced, he didn’t let go.

“Please! I’m in a hurry!”

He held her tighter. Should she bite him?

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, little girl,” he said. “Your father is quite ill. I am to operate on him in the morning.”

The tone of his voice told her he was exactly the sort of surgeon that had operated on her mummy! Her daddy was in terrible danger!

Blackheart was saying more stuff. “Why don’t you come into my hutch and sit for a while? I could give you a sedative.”

Now’s the time to bite him, she decided.

She bit him.

He screeched, and let go of her.

She ran.

Out on the street, Melissa wondered if it might not be best to visit Medisurance before going to the hospital, and straighten out her daddy’s classification. Their office was on her way, anyway.

Rain pelted down. Thunder rampaged overhead. I sort of know Garrity Two at Medisurance, she thought. A big VP like him’ll help.

She dodged through raindrops to the Medisurance tower and went in. A guard asked what she wanted. She waved her Medisurance card. He let her pass. The lobby was all soft lights, thick carpets, scented air. A receptionist at a big desk spoke to her. She took no notice and rushed on to the elevator bank. There was a list of people’s names and office numbers. In no time at all, she found Garrity, forty-fifth floor. An elevator was waiting. She jumped in, pressed forty-five, and was on her way up, up, up.

The elevator stopped, swished open. Melissa emerged into an area fancier than the lobby. She didn’t pause to admire. Near a door marked MR. GARRITY, VP, a secretary woman at a desk polished her nails. Melissa was past her and into Garrity’s office before she could look up.

The office was huge, bigger than a hundred hutches. Behind a computer-cluttered desk, Garrity gazed through a window at the storm. Light, dark, light, dark, he went, as lightning flashed in the hills.

Mehssa hurtled across the carpet to the desk, plonked down the Medisurance card. Garrity Two swiveled around, frowning.

“Please, Mr. Garrity, help me and my daddy!”

Garrity Two’s frown deepened. He’s angry, she thought. She rolled her little girl s eyes. They always worked on her daddy. Would they work on Garrity?

Yes, apparently. His face softened. His nose was pointed like his son’s. Not much hair. He still didn’t say anything.

Melissa hung her head, poor little orphan.

Instead of ordering her out, he came from behind the desk and put an arm on her shoulder. She thought of Dr. Blackheart, but didn’t shake him off. There was a crinkly grin on his face. “What a lovely little girl you are. Now, what’s all this about?”

Melissa squeezed out a tear. It might help. She told Garrity Two she knew his son, from school. Then she told him about her daddy, insured, but put in the wrong classification at the hospital.

She waved the Medisurance card under the VP’s nose.

Garrity Two took the card, returned to his chair, and punched data into a computer. Numbers Melissa couldn’t read from where she was scrolled on his screen.

Outside, thunder growled ominously.

Garrity Two glanced slyly at Melissa, like Peter in the menagerie. She wondered if he was going to ask to see her panties. He could have anything he asked, just so he helped her daddy!

He didn’t ask for anything. He said, “I’m sorry. This card is a forgery.”

At that moment Melissa knew she’d done wrong. She should have gone to the hospital, let them sort it out. If Garrity Two had made trouble later, so what?

Now she didn’t know what to do. Jump up on Garrity Two’s desk, grab the card, and run?

She flexed up and down on her toes.

It was already too late. Garrity Two shoved the card into a slot on his desk. She heard a shredder whir.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing this company can do for you. But I’m sure, in an emergency of this kind, the hospital people will take the greatest care of your father.”

Sure they will, Melissa thought bleakly, Dr. Blackheart and all.

He went on. “You say you go to school with Peter? Would you like to come up to the house and stay with us till this is over? We’ll gladly take care of you.”

The leer on the man’s face told her how. She ran!

Back on the street, Melissa found a quiet alley. With rain and thunder still going on, she sagged down against a wall until she was sitting in a slimy puddle.

Yo Yo Johnson’s voice! “What’s aching with you, Bonnie Girl?”

Splashing dirty water, she threw herself into his arms.

He hugged her. “You passed me running. I followed you. I’m glad I did. Such hugs as this are rare and beautiful. But now, please, tell me what the trouble is.”

He released her. She told him.

He said: “We must go to the hospital, and see what can be done.”

They went.

Yo Yo knew the hospital. The hospital knew Yo Yo. They weren’t there two minutes before Yo Yo found the person they had to see.

Ms. Victoria Swanky, a top Administrator, had the superior air of a high grade perm. Without Yo Yo, she’d have scared furry spitballs out of Melissa.

Yo Yo said: “This little girl’s daddy is here, we believe, in the wrong ward. He’s no uninsured temp, he’s an indigent.”

Ms. Swanky searched on her computer. “He’s here, and definitely in the right ward. His classification’s definitely uninsured temp.”

“No, ma’am, I have to disagree. He is an indigent. He and his little girl live in boxes next to mine, on Scuffle Street. You do not find temps living in boxes on Scuffle Street.”

“You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, Yo Yo?” Ms. Swanky shot him a searching look. “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” She examined Melissa. “This little girl does look more like a Scuffle Street person than a temp’s daughter. Is Yo Yo telling the truth, little girl?”

“Yes.” It was hard for Melissa to get out even one single word.

“Then I suppose I’ve no alternative but to have him transferred.” She set to work on her computer again. “There. Transfer completed. I see Dr. Blackheart is to operate on him in the morning. Rest assured, little girl, your father will get the best of care.”

Blackheart’s still going to operate! What to do now?

“C-can’t somebody else do him? Tonight?”

“He’ll be fine. Ice packs. Sedation. There’s nothing to worry about.” She looked away. “Anything else, Yo Yo?”

Melissa silently tried to make Yo Yo say, yes, get another surgeon, but he didn’t. He said, “I believe not, ma’am. We’re most grateful for the courtesy you have shown us.”

With Melissa scampering behind, he hobbled away on his crutches.

She tugged Yo Yo’s coat. “Could we go and see my daddy?”

Yo Yo paused. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Good fortune has been ours so far. It never pays, Bonnie Girl, to push one’s luck too far.”

He moved on. Reluctantly, Melissa followed.

Outside the hospital, she told Yo Yo about Dr. Blackheart.

“It’ll be all right,” Yo Yo reassured her. “By law, only good surgeons may treat indigents. Blackheart must be one of them.”

Melissa didn’t believe it, but didn’t know what more to say.

By then, the rain had stopped. Yo Yo took her home with him. Sarah welcomed her. She told Sarah her troubles.

Quite late, Melissa returned to the hutchery. She paused outside Blackheart’s hutch and put a spell on him. But her spells never worked. The only way to save her daddy was to get another surgeon.

In her own hutch, thoroughly miserable, she kicked off her shoes, gazed at her mummy’s photograph, asked her what else she could do.

Her mummy didn’t say a word.

She thought about menageries, Garrity Two, his son.

Maybe there was a way to help her daddy and fix the Garritys!

She slipped on shoes again, went down to the streets. The moon shone brightly. She was soon on the snaky road up to the Garrity house. Coming out of the wood, she saw that it was lit up like they were having a party. Great. They’d be too busy to notice her.

She went around the house to the menagerie.

She keyed in the door-opening code, 683597213. Lights came on inside as the door opened. There was no alarm.

She went to the control console in the main hall.

She punched in the access code. The animal menu came up, SELECT.

Before selecting anything, she had to have a peek at the tiger.

He was just like before, silky fur, serene smile, beautiful. The boy’s name for him was all wrong. She gave him a new one. Big Puss.

Back at the console, she selected RABBIT TWO, then, REVIVE.

RABBIT THREE. REVIVE. RABBIT FOUR. REVIVE. Going on with it, she heard the tubes and wires pull out of the animals, heard them bouncing in their cages like frisky Henriettas.

Presently she’d revived all rabbits and guinea pigs. It was time for bigger animals. BABOONS. REVIVE. MONKEYS. REVIVE. ARMADILLO. REVIVE. ORYX. REVIVE.

The livened-up oryx skittered up and down in his cage like he had a pogo stick on each leg. The rest of the animals chattered, gossiped, sang. Melissa caught some monkey talk, all joy and celebration. Nice. But, damn, they were noisy.

Now only the tiger and the gorilla were left.

Melissa wasn’t sure about reviving the gorilla.

The managerie hubbub was getting to be too much. She couldn’t think. Using every language she knew, she tried to get a bit of quiet. She was ignored.

Revive Big Puss and decide later about the gorilla? With all this noise, Big Puss wouldn’t be able to hear what she wanted to tell him. She and he needed quiet time together.

So Melissa went to the menagerie door and wedged it open, then back to the console. She selected from the menu, RABBIT ONE, CAGE OPEN. The cage opened, but nothing happened. Of course. The Garrity kid had already dealt with Rabbit One. On, then. RABBIT TWO, CAGE OPEN. This time the bunny hopped out.

RABBIT THREE—and so forth.

Soon all the revived animals were out of their cages blinking, snorting, screaming. She told them, run outside in the moonlight, scatter, hide. Only the armadillo and the oryx didn’t do as they were told. The armadillo wanted to explore every corner of the menagerie before he went, but eventually she was rid of him. The oryx, prancing up and down on his pogo-legs, didn’t understand cow-talk, or pretended he didn’t. She had to drive him out.

With all the animals gone, Melissa again wondered about the gorilla. It wasn’t fair to leave him in his cage when everybody else was free. Was it?

She input GORILLA. REVIVE.

Cardiac Emperor came alive, stood erect, shoved his ugly face up against the glass of his cage, peered at Melissa, scowled. In monkey talk, Melissa said, “Be a good gorilla, and I’ll let you out.”

Apparently he didn’t understand monkey talk. He roared at her in some language of his own, jumped up and down, did a somersault, towered up on his hind legs, and banged his chest.

She daren’t let him out.

It was time for Big Puss. TIGER. REVIVE.

Melissa was at Big Puss’s cage in time to see his wires and tubes disconnect. He staggered up on four tottery legs, swished his tail.

The gorilla snarled and roared.

Big Puss snarled and roared. Spitting and slobbering, he marched up and down his cage, whipping his tail from side to side.

In cat talk, Melissa said: “Calm down, Big Puss.” Now she saw how big he was, she was afraid cat talk wouldn’t work.

Wonder of wonders, it did.

Big Puss calmed down, said he’d be good, it was nice to be among friends. He sat on his rear like a well-trained dog, his head high, his eyes blinking at Melissa.

The gorilla was on a rampage, hurling himself against the glass wall of his cage.

Melissa ran back to the console. TIGER, CAGE OPEN.

In leisurely fashion, Big Puss strolled toward her. She urged him to get a move on, but he wouldn’t. At the console, he sat down. His head was still higher than hers. “What’s the hurry?” he asked.

Melissa gestured toward the rampaging gorilla.

“Don’t worry, I can take care of him,” Big Puss yawned. “Why did you break into my nap? I was having such a nice dream.”

Melissa told him not to grumble.

“But I’m hungry. Tigers always grumble when they’re hungry.” He licked his lips with his long tongue.

Melissa could see more of his sharp teeth than she liked. “Maybe we can find you something to eat. Should we let out the gorilla?”

“I remember a gorilla once, when I was a cub—” Big Puss began a long rambling story for which they had no time. She interrupted. “Let’s just leave the gorilla, and go.”

His swishing tail told her he didn’t like interruptions, but he let her lead him toward the menagerie door. Halfway there, there was a terrible clatter of shattering glass. In a flash, she was on Big Puss’s back telling him, get outside and away as fast as possible.

Outside, there was still bright moonlight. As Big Puss carried Melissa by the corner of the Garrity house, she looked back, saw a monstrous gorilla shadow on the white wall of the menagerie.

Faster, faster, she urged Big Puss.

Big Puss speeded up. She could barely hold on. He galloped around the Garrity house, across the lawns, into the woods, and down the snaky road to Gimbel City.

There were no people on Gimbel City’s streets at that hour of the morning. A pity. Melissa, on Big Puss, felt like a princess, and would have liked to have been seen. Slowed down now, Big Puss had his tail up and curved over her like a canopy.

Anyway, she’d fixed the Garrity kid! No long life for him, with his animals gone. Let his father run that through his card shredder and see how he liked it!

Now the next thing. This wasn’t for revenge, it was for her daddy. On the way down, she’d told Big Puss what it was. He’d said he’d be delighted to do what was needed.

In minutes, they were at the hutchery. Melissa slipped off the tiger, said thanks for the ride, and keyed the hutchery door open. Big Puss purred. They went inside, rode an elevator up to her floor. She settled Big Puss in the corridor, a bit away from her hutch.

She rang Blackheart’s doorbell. After three rings, the door opened. Blackheart, in a long white nightshirt, leered. “Hello, Melissa. Won’t you come in?”

She didn’t move.

Big Puss did. Just as instructed, he charged along the corridor, reared up, placed friendly paws on Blackheart’s shoulders, and shoved him back into the hutch.

Melissa tripped the latch and closed the hutch door, leaving them alone to discuss whatever tigers and surgeons might want to discuss, like, say, Big Puss’s surgical skills.

In her hutch, she toyed with the entertainment center, couldn’t find anything interesting, picked up a book, couldn’t concentrate.

When the clock by her mummy’s photograph said four, she decided it was time to find out if Big Puss and Dr. Blackheart had gotten close to one another. She left her hutch, flitted across the corridor, and opened the Blackheart door.

Big Puss eyed her drowsily from where he sprawled on the carpet. A lot of signs suggested he and the surgeon had gotten very close.

Melissa told Big Puss, well done, now it’s time to go.

He said he didn’t want to go, he wanted to relax.

Melissa said he could relax when he was back up in the hills.

He said, what about the leftovers? His mummy’d told him he had to always finish off leftovers.

Melissa said Gimbel City was no place for a tiger in daylight.

“Just one little ten-minute snooze?”

“No, no. You have to go, now.”

He said she was cruel little girl, but he stood and stretched.

They left the hutch, Melissa locking the door securely behind them. She escorted Big Puss down to the street. You’re on your own now, she told him. Get out of the city as fast as you can. Maybe up in the hills you’ll catch yourself an oryx.

He said he was much too full to run.

She said, I’ll bet that gorilla will catch you if you don’t.

He said, I suppose you’re right. Well (he nuzzled her), no rest for the wicked. We’ll always be friends.

We certainly will, Melissa called after him as he loped away.

Melissa called the Gimbel Majestic Hospital. Deepening her voice, she told a real-time person Dr. Blackheart was ill, couldn’t handle his morning’s schedule. The real-time person said thank you.

A bit later she called the hospital again and inquired after her daddy. He’s worse, she was told. They’d paged Dr. Blackheart, but he hadn’t answered. “Oh,” the hospital person continued, “a message just came in. Dr. Blackheart is himself sick. I suppose we’ll have to get another surgeon. You want to call again in a couple of hours?”

For two hours, Melissa fiddled and fussed to make time go faster, but it wouldn’t.

One interesting thing happened. The entertainment center came on on its own. Emergency. A dangerous gorilla loose. The savage beast had invaded a private party at a hilltop mansion. Only the heroic intervention of Mr. Peter Garrity had driven it off. Film later.

Garrity Two, Melissa thought, hero!

At last the time came to call the hospital again.

The hospital person said her daddy had had his operation, and was responding satisfactorily. She could come and see him if she liked.

Gorilla or no gorilla, Melissa had to go.

It was almost dawn. She didn’t meet Cardiac Emperor. Her daddy was already sitting up, cheerful. He got still better as the day wore on.

Several days passed before the hospital would release Melissa’s daddy. They couldn’t throw him out early, he was classified indigent, nowhere to go. By then it was true. With no money coming in, Melissa had had to abandon their hutch and quit school. She was living with Sarah and Yo Yo, and was happy, except, with no entertainment center, she didn’t know what was going on in Gimbel City.

Yo Yo did bring home snippets of gossip picked up on his travels. There was this menagerie up in the hills, animals all escaped, Gimbel City hunters, fun out shooting. A few days later, hunters, a charging gorilla, some hurt. Later still, Mayor, emergency, National Guard, tanks and armor-piercing missiles, gorilla dead.

Yo Yo didn’t bring home one word about tigers or surgeons. Melissa was happy not to hear about Blackheart, but she’d have liked news of Big Puss. But no news was good news.

From the hospital, her daddy found a new job in another city, transportation prepaid.

Melissa saw a headline on a blowing scrap of newspaper. POLICE: NO PROGRESS IN MENAGERIE MYSTERY. It was a relief, not that she’d been worrying. Gimbel City police were all temps and not much good.

When the hospital released her daddy, she met him at the bus station. Sarah was there, and Yo Yo. She shed tears, hugging them goodbye. She’d never forget them, or Big Puss, or Gimbel City, or how she’d taken care of her daddy!

Content

Taking Care of Daddy
by Brian C. Coad