Page 54 - Tales Apocalyptic and Dystopian

High Tex and the Orbies

over and banged his fist on the wall. “He has already been instructed
what to say. You will verify his story. I am certain he will be asked
first, on the mistaken assumption that an adult is a more effective liar.
Before the trader arrives, however, you must examine the boy to give
me some confidence in his basic health.”
Ottley blinked, acutely aware of the grit beneath his eyelids.
“No one is healthy. No child I’ve ever seen. Not even at birth. Not
ever.”
“You want this job.”
Too many years as a lone wolf, a medicine man among benighted
savages, Ottley self-realized. He had been put in his place, and
another chance might not be offered. He nodded.
“Then look and listen.”
The door opened and a male child entered. Ottley blinked again.
The boy’s skin was almost white, his eyes clear, his step firm. He
wore garments the names of which were fading from the language.
They came one by one to Ottley. Shirt. Trousers. Shoes. He could
not guess the age of the lad: his face said newborn, his size at least
that of a ten-year-old.
He turned to Tex, who had been studying his reaction. What freak
of nature is this? Ottley wanted to scream. But now he knew to hold
his tongue, despite the questions struggling to gain control of it. Was
he dreaming? Could a human being have a complexion as unmarked
as this boy’s? Was this a mechanical doll instead of flesh and blood?
“Daniel, you remember Ottley D. Nye, the man who found you in
the Rockies.”
“Good to see you again, sir.” The boy’s voice was smooth and
high, plucking the strings of Ottley’s memory.
“Daniel looks pretty damn good.” Tex gloated as Ottley gaped.
“You check him as best you can. Lot of things can be wrong inside
that don’t show right away. He’s got to be clean, got to pass a more
stringent test. I don’t want him disqualified for some minor flaw. The
deal cannot be made unless he passes an exam we’ve never seen.”
Ottley scoured his brain for the protocols of physical examination.
Okay, he thought; I know enough, more than anyone I’ve met in
twenty years of wandering.
“Come here—Daniel.”

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