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By Root 557 0

the rattle of mop-bucket wheels, the sound of her own breathing. All of it heard in the same moment, with no difference between hearing and listening, the normal filters not functioning and everything becoming just as important as everything else. Catatonics are forced to listen to it all as though it were all meaningful to them, with the result that it all does become meaningful to them, bearing directly on their existence. Their only defense against it is to remain perfectly still, to slow things down just a little, to create fewer ripples in time, fewer unforeseen repercussions, because the slightest motions are causes leading to effects that become causes of other effects which bring on the future all the more quickly, bring on all manner of suffering and strife: monsoons off the coast of Manila, typhoons over Trinidad and Tobago, tsunamis roaring over Tokyo, speculative raids on Third World currencies, massive prison economies, imperialistic wars on the Moon, monopolies stretching to the end of time.

“You can relax, Ivy,” Ursula whispers, “she’s gone now.”

Ivy makes her lungs pump, makes her heart beat, makes the universe expand.

From behind Ursula comes a gentle knock on the open door, and she becomes aware of the slight, white-jacketed form of Dr. Shivamurti.

“I was hoping she’d come out of it on her own this time,” she says, walking up to Ivy and feeling the pulse on her wrist. “But I’ll give her something to help.”

She unbends Ivy’s arm and bunches her fingers into a fist. The arm stays obediently outstretched while she prepares a hypodermic needle.

“What are you giving her?” Ursula asks.

“Sodium pentathol.”

“The truth serum?”

“It’s used for that also. It will help her relax.”

The effects are dramatic, almost immediate. Ivy’s head bobs, then catches stiffly again. Her eyelids droop and reopen. Dr. Shivamurti helps her along, putting her arm at her side, massaging her neck and rotating her shoulders, stretching out her legs and bringing her into a reclining position on the bed. The simplicity and kindness of this ritual make Ursula’s heart rise achingly to her throat.

“You can talk now, Ivy,” the doctor assures her. “Say hello to your sister.”

Groggily, Ivy looks over at Ursula.

“Hello to your sister,” she mumbles.

Ursula and the doctor laugh.

“How are you feeling now?” Shivamurti asks.

“Cold.”

Shivamurti pulls the covers over Ivy as she nuzzles herself deeper into the bed.

“She might sleep soon,” she tells Ursula. “I’ll leave you to talk.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Have them page me at the desk before you leave,” she says on her way out, “and we can have a little talk.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Ursula reaches under the covers and finds Ivy’s hand. “I like your new haircut, Ivy.”

Ivy nods and then mumbles something Ursula can’t make out.

“Can you speak louder, Ivy? I can’t hear you.”

“Mr. Teeth cut it for me,” she says, her voice childlike and hoarse.

“Mr. Teeth? Who’s that?”

“A trendspotter. First one’s ever come.” Despite her stupor, she manages to convey her excitement by squeezing Ursula’s fingers.

“But I thought you saw them all the time,” Ursula says.

She shakes her head. “Not saw, only heard. Coder-sponder.” She takes her free hand from beneath the pillow to point a limp finger at her right temple.

“And his name was Mr. Teeth?”

Ivy smiles. Her eyes flutter heavily.

“What did you two talk about?”

“They want me to get well.”

Ursula has never heard Ivy speak of herself as unwell.

“That’s good, Ivy,” she says.

“They need me. They need me to model again,” Ivy explains.

“Who? The trendspotters?”

“They showed me pictures of me,” she quietly confides. “The way I was. The way I will be. I will be so so so beautiful.”

Ivy reaches over to the nightstand, picks up an oversize Snoopy get-well card sent by her agency, and hugs it to her chest. “I need to get my beauty rest,” she says. “That’s what Mr. Teeth said. Kiss me good night, Ursula?”

She closes her eyes. Ursula leans over and kisses her on the cheek, and Ivy sighs. Her face softens and sinks deeper into the pillow, and Ursula is left