Human Sister

hear me?”
    “Yes,” I whispered, wincing at the word’s sibilant ending.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Please—” Uh. That sibilating high-speed saw in my head.
    “What?”
    “Dim the lights.” I winced. No more s ’s .
    “Can we dim the lights?” he roared. “Is that better?”
    I opened my eyes slightly and whispered, “Ja,” as Elio would have, thinking I’d never again utter the manic sibilance of yes , never again push tongue toward alveolar ridge and form that venomous sound.
    “Would you like something else?”
    Please speak softly came to mind, but I replaced it with, “Talk quietly.”
    “Oh. Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” he whispered in a whisper almost comical in its loudness. “Everyone, please, whisper. Her senses are painfully amplified.”
    “Are you through?” I asked.
    “Through for now,” Casey roared. “But next time you might not to be so lucky. We know you saw the Sentirens at Alberta Robotics. It’s against the law not to report a sighting.”
    “May I go now?” I asked the doctor.
    “I’d like to observe you until the drug wears off.”
    “May I see… uh… have Elio and Grandpa come here?”
    “They’re over in G,” Casey said. “I’ll go get them.”
    After Casey left, the doctor whispered, “Sara, I’d like to ask you a few questions to determine whether you’re fully lucid. You don’t have to answer me, but”—he pursed his lips and frowned—“well, before you go I’d like to know you’re okay.”
    Did something happen, I worried, to my mind? Did I say something? I didn’t. Did I?
    And then I remembered: I had nearly failed, nearly succumbed to Casey and cried out Yes!
    “What’s your address?” “How old are you?” “What’s 19 times 7?”… I answered each of his questions in turn, though with difficulty—I was so upset and ashamed at having nearly failed. Finally, he asked, “If it takes two government agents to plug in a light, how many does it take to protect us from the Chinese?”
    “I think I’d need to know how many Chinese agents it takes to plug in a similar light,” I said, noticing that the “s” sounds were considerably less painful than before.
    He smiled. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”
    “I’d like to get dressed before Elio and Grandpa get here.”
    “Yes, of course. Here, swing one leg over the edge first. That’s right.”
    It was then I noticed I’d urinated on myself and on the table.
    “Let me get you a towel,” the doctor said.
    I laid my head back on the table while the doctor noisily gathered up some paper towels. “Gently,” I whispered as he began mopping up.
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    “Maybe I should try to use the shower before I dress.”
    “Sure, I suppose. Let me call.”
    Speaking toward the computer, he requested a shower. “And how about her clothes?”
    “Can’t have ’em. Casey says they’re goin’ upstairs. Ditto the teleband, ring, transmitter, finger cast, luggage, the whole lot. Kiss ’em good-bye.”
    “I have to have the ring,” I said, nearly in tears for the first time that day. Mom had told me, referring to the bimetallic ring she and Dad had given me, that I was the white platinum; Elio, the yellow gold.
    The doctor shrugged. “At least you can wash off. I’ll give you my coat to wear afterward.”
    I was carefully patting myself dry after a piercing shower when the door flew open and in ran Elio shouting, “Sara!”
    I braced myself for a painful hug, but the doctor caught Elio’s arm and whispered, “Careful. Her senses are amplified to a painful degree.”
    Elio scowled at the doctor, jerked his arm away, and walked toward me. His dark-chocolate eyes looked worried, but as he drew near, his rosy lips lit with a smile, and the crush of our kiss was full of love.
    “What did they do to you?” he whispered, his eyes full of tears.
    I seemed to be deliquescing into his lapis lazuli jacket, its azure sky filled with dark secrets and flecks of golden light.
    “Sara, what’s wrong?”
    “What’s wrong?” I echoed, feeling dreamy.
    “Did they hurt you?”
    “No.”
    He turned to Grandpa, who’d been whispering with the doctor. “Grandpa?”
    “I’ll see to it that beast is fired and never gets another government job,” Grandpa said.
    His words shocked me out of a blissful torpor. “No! Grandpa, please, don’t. He said you’d never make it past level 3, that your heart would stop, and it would look like a natural death.”
    Grandpa