(2)
The Advocate returned to his office. Oily rain still trickled down the windows. He noted absently that a clump of airborne contaminant had lodged in the corner of the frame. Its digestive fluids had begun to etch the glass. He called Sanitation to have it removed. But his mind was on her.
He was the Advocate. It was his job to find any prisoner deserving of a reprieve. In 20 years, he'd never found one. Could she be the first? Was her survival of the gas chamber yesterday a sign from God? Or was she a test of his moral
strength, sent by the Devil? He lit a cigarette, sweating now; if he were proven wrong, he himself might end up in the same gas chamber.
Again he went over the report. The woman had been captured in an outlying suburb near the city's defensive network. She claimed to be looking for her mate, who had vanished in the area two months previously.
Her mate? The Advocate frowned and called the police inspector by comline.
There was some delay while someone accessed the records.
The inspector said: "A man was captured in that area several weeks ago. Serious breach, but we caught it just in time. I'm afraid he was—injured in the confrontation."
"Injured."
"Yes, that's right. Killed, I regret to say." He didn't sound particularly regretful.
"I see. Was there anything at all ... odd about him?"
"Well, no, I don't think—actually, pardon me, I see here that he wore a strange atmosphere suit. We think he parachuted in from a sub-orbital craft."
"Where is his body?"
"Burned, of course, sir."
"And the suit?"
"It was confiscated by sanitation. When they attempted to examine it—it self-destructed."
The Advocate stroked his jaw. "I see. Thank you."
The com beeped. The Advocate looked up from his paperwork. "Yes?"
"This is Clinical. These X-rays... We've never seen anything like this."
"Bring them."
A young medic delivered the prints and stood by, pointing out abnormalities, as the Advocate examined them.
"These flanges on the ribs," he said. "And here ... this shadow is an organ, but we don't know what it's for. Best guess is a second liver."
The Advocate frowned at the x-ray. "We've seen many genetic problems among these people," he said. "Quite a number of them exhibit one sort of deformation or another."
The medic shook his head. "She doesn't test out that way. There's no trace of disease. She's perfectly normal—for what she is."
"You're saying she is a mutant? Or a demon?"
The medic shrugged. "Sir, we are educated men. Demons are doctrine, yes, but..." He shrugged again. "As to mutancy, well ... Conditions being what they are out there we can expect a certain amount of adaptation to be occurring. A second liver could help filter the excess environmental toxins. I'm surprised we haven't seen this sooner."
After the medic left, the Advocate called up Inquiry police. "I want every one of the woman's cell mates set aside for questioning!"
The lieutenant on duty had a slow, infuriating voice. "They have all been gassed, Sir."
The Advocate gritted his teeth. "You people are—most efficient."
"Our duty to the Lord, Sir."
"Of course." Why couldn't you be as stupid as you sound, he thought after ringing off. We are half again too clever for our own good.
As if in answer, two dull quivers rocked the building in rapid succession, like a single giant heartbeat. The Advocate's stomach felt queasy as he opened Scripture to look for verses suggesting this prisoner had signs deserving a reprieve.
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