for ultraviolet light, which is technology. Easily obtained, easily understood technology .”
[That sounds like good news—but it fails to explain why you sound so smug.]
“Because it’s not supernatural . It doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts or storm spirits or cryptic messages from beyond the grave. Score one for science!”
[So it’s basically a flashlight.]
“Well … yeah.”
[Impressive.]
I paused and looked down at my canine partner. He stared back at me with that extreme skepticism dogs do so well—you know, with the raised eyebrows and the serious mouth and the ears up?
“Shut up,” I said cleverly. “Anyway, ZZ has one. It operates on house current, not batteries, but I can get a long extension cord and run it out to the liger enclosure.”
[Then, by all means, let’s do so.]
I dug the blacklight out of ZZ’s storage room, which was filled with the castoffs of her many varied but short-lived hobbies. You know that warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, with all the crates of mysterious artifacts stacked to the rafters? This room was like that, only weirder: scuba tanks stood side by side with rock-climbing equipment; three kinds of bread machines were stacked like little robots on top of one another; a rack of brightly colored boomerangs hung on the wall next to a backpack holding a parachute. There were snowboards, surfboards, and wakeboards, blowguns, spearguns, and Nerf guns. There was high-tech digital film equipment, programmable embroidery machines, and a plastic unicycle. There were specialized outfits for every environment from Death Valley to the Antarctic, and gadgets of every size and description—many of which had never been developed past the prototype stage. ZZ had a weakness for prototypes.
I found the blacklight on a shelf with some electroluminescent wire, two kinds of strobes, and a disco ball. There were several coiled lengths of bright orange electrical cords on the shelf beneath it, and I slung these over one shoulder.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go do some sleuthing.”
* * *
When we got down to the liger enclosure, we saw that we wouldn’t have to worry about power; Caroline already had a cord there. It was plugged into a small, square machine with a built-in screen, and had another cord leading from that to a short plastic wand in her hand. She crouched next to Augustus, pressing the end of the wand against a small, shaved area on his side; Augustus hadn’t moved.
“How is he?” I said, approaching the wire fence.
“I’ll let you know in a moment,” Caroline said. She studied the screen intently as she moved the wand. “I’m taking a sonogram. It’ll tell me how bad the accumulation of calcium oxalate crystals in his kidneys is.”
“And?”
She shook her head. “It’s not good. I’m giving him bolus crystalloids to restore renal function and bicarbonate to reduce the metabolic acidosis, but he’s already hyperkalemic.”
“Can you tell me again and make it less jargony?”
“Sorry. I tend to do that when I’m in crisis mode.” She hesitated, then looked squarely at me. “His kidneys are failing. I don’t know if he’ll pull through.”
“Is there anything else we can do?”
“Other than a kidney transplant, no. And honestly—even if we had one available—I don’t think we have time. I’m sorry.”
“Do what you can.” I showed her the light I carried, a short purple fluorescent tube in a black metal case. “I’m going to be using this to look around, but I won’t get in your way.”
She nodded, but her focus had already shifted back to her patient. She was muttering softly to herself about high blood urea nitrogen, serum phosphorus, and pH blood balance.
I left Whiskey outside. I had no idea where Tango had gone, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight and I couldn’t hear her voice in my head.
I plugged the blacklight in and shone it on the artificial rock basin that served as Augustus’s
[That sounds like good news—but it fails to explain why you sound so smug.]
“Because it’s not supernatural . It doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts or storm spirits or cryptic messages from beyond the grave. Score one for science!”
[So it’s basically a flashlight.]
“Well … yeah.”
[Impressive.]
I paused and looked down at my canine partner. He stared back at me with that extreme skepticism dogs do so well—you know, with the raised eyebrows and the serious mouth and the ears up?
“Shut up,” I said cleverly. “Anyway, ZZ has one. It operates on house current, not batteries, but I can get a long extension cord and run it out to the liger enclosure.”
[Then, by all means, let’s do so.]
I dug the blacklight out of ZZ’s storage room, which was filled with the castoffs of her many varied but short-lived hobbies. You know that warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, with all the crates of mysterious artifacts stacked to the rafters? This room was like that, only weirder: scuba tanks stood side by side with rock-climbing equipment; three kinds of bread machines were stacked like little robots on top of one another; a rack of brightly colored boomerangs hung on the wall next to a backpack holding a parachute. There were snowboards, surfboards, and wakeboards, blowguns, spearguns, and Nerf guns. There was high-tech digital film equipment, programmable embroidery machines, and a plastic unicycle. There were specialized outfits for every environment from Death Valley to the Antarctic, and gadgets of every size and description—many of which had never been developed past the prototype stage. ZZ had a weakness for prototypes.
I found the blacklight on a shelf with some electroluminescent wire, two kinds of strobes, and a disco ball. There were several coiled lengths of bright orange electrical cords on the shelf beneath it, and I slung these over one shoulder.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go do some sleuthing.”
* * *
When we got down to the liger enclosure, we saw that we wouldn’t have to worry about power; Caroline already had a cord there. It was plugged into a small, square machine with a built-in screen, and had another cord leading from that to a short plastic wand in her hand. She crouched next to Augustus, pressing the end of the wand against a small, shaved area on his side; Augustus hadn’t moved.
“How is he?” I said, approaching the wire fence.
“I’ll let you know in a moment,” Caroline said. She studied the screen intently as she moved the wand. “I’m taking a sonogram. It’ll tell me how bad the accumulation of calcium oxalate crystals in his kidneys is.”
“And?”
She shook her head. “It’s not good. I’m giving him bolus crystalloids to restore renal function and bicarbonate to reduce the metabolic acidosis, but he’s already hyperkalemic.”
“Can you tell me again and make it less jargony?”
“Sorry. I tend to do that when I’m in crisis mode.” She hesitated, then looked squarely at me. “His kidneys are failing. I don’t know if he’ll pull through.”
“Is there anything else we can do?”
“Other than a kidney transplant, no. And honestly—even if we had one available—I don’t think we have time. I’m sorry.”
“Do what you can.” I showed her the light I carried, a short purple fluorescent tube in a black metal case. “I’m going to be using this to look around, but I won’t get in your way.”
She nodded, but her focus had already shifted back to her patient. She was muttering softly to herself about high blood urea nitrogen, serum phosphorus, and pH blood balance.
I left Whiskey outside. I had no idea where Tango had gone, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight and I couldn’t hear her voice in my head.
I plugged the blacklight in and shone it on the artificial rock basin that served as Augustus’s
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