The door dilated and a bipedal lizard even larger than Mr. Haselbauer filled it. The thing looked like a velociraptor with a toothache.

  “Sss-graka-gar!” it bellowed. It had to. The door had been soundproofed and the noise inside was at the nuclear decibel level.

  “Wathaet?” Tyler shouted, craning his neck up. The view of the thing’s face wasn’t much better than the rest.

  “Garagar!” the thing shouted back, gesturing inside with a thumb. It even had velociraptor thumbs.

  Tyler stepped inside and his ears immediately tried to shut down. The “music,” if it could be called music, was a series of incredibly loud, apparently random, notes with asyncopated pauses. Most of them were near the top of the audible range so it was possible that there were some out of human audibility he was missing. If so, he’d pass. It was a worse experience than the one indoor bagpipe competition he’d attended. But only marginally.

  The crowd was mostly Glatun and they seemed to be mostly using hypercom implants. They’d have to, there was no way to hear. There were a few other species present. Two large purple slugs were drinking something green in a corner, and a giant, segmented, exoskeletal, black and red worm was chugging what looked like a gallon of something that smoked to some shouted comments. At least Tyler assumed the Glatun were shouting. They were opening and closing their mouths and between notes he could pick up some yells. A few more of the giant sauroids were circulating the room but they seemed to be servers. Or security. Or both.

  “T…er!” a Glatun shouted at him, clapping him on the back.

  “Wathaet?” Tyler shouted back. He had to assume it was Wathaet. Racist as it might seem, Glatun really did all look the same to him.

  The Glatun opened and closed his mouth several more times. Tyler could only get a few syllables. It had to be Wathaet, though.

  “I can’t hear you!” Tyler screamed.

  “What?”

  Tyler grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door, which fortunately opened.

  “God almighty,” Tyler said when they were outside the cacophony. “How can you stand it in there?”

  “Stand what?” Wathaet asked.

  “I couldn’t hear a thing,” Tyler said. “Are all you guys deaf?”

  “No,” Wathaet said. “Oh, you don’t have a plantpak.”

  “No, I don’t have a plantpak,” Tyler said with a sigh. “Human, remember?”

  “Come on,” Wathaet said, waving for Tyler to follow. “Time to fix that.”

  “Uh, Wathaet,” Tyler said. “I’m not sure that a Glatun doctor would know the first thing about human physiology.”

  “I talked to Cori about it,” Wathaet said. “He said no problem.”

  “Who is Cori?” Tyler asked as Wathaet took a turn down a service tunnel. A couple of Glatun were just sort of hanging around the tunnel in a very nonchalant manner. Like a nonchalant “Your money or your life” manner. “Uh, Wathaet?”

  “Don’t worry,” Wathaet said. “Everybody knows me. Hey, guys. Buddy of mine from Earth. This is the maple syrup king.”

  “Oh, wow,” one of the Glatun said, surreptitiously putting away his vibroknife. “Gosh, it’s nice to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to have any…”

  “Catch,” Tyler said, tossing them a sample bottle of Vermont’s finest. They just made it past the scuffle. Turned out that Glatuns had blue blood as well as skin. “Wathaet, could we please get into some patrolled corridors?”

  “We’re here,” Wathaet said as a panel opened. “Come on in.”

  Tyler had, like most kids, done a paper on the Holocaust in school. His particular paper had focused on Nazi experiments and Dr. Joseph Mengele, the “Angel of Death.”

  The dingy room called back some very unpleasant memories. Same torture-rack, Sweeney Todd barber chair. Same “Ve haff vays of making you talk!” light in the face. Same sharp blade things hanging in midair. In this case, literally. The only thing missing was the smell of antiseptic which, under the circumstance, was not reassuring.

  “Uh, Wathaet?” Tyler said.

  “Don’t let this place fool you,” Wathaet said. “Cori’s the best plant thing on Glalkod Station. Hey! Cori! Where are you?”

  “In that case,” Tyler said, backing to the door. “I think I’ll take my chances on finding one on the—”

  A four-foot long black scarab beetle had come bustling out of a back room. It wasn’t exactly a scarab beetle, but the resemblance was remarkable. Except scarab beetles didn’t have the big cutting mandibles. Come to think of it, Tyler had seen a few more scurrying around in the corridors. He’d assumed they were dogs or something.

  “Wathaet,” the beetle buzzed. “Is this the human I get to experiment on?”

  “No!” Tyler shouted.

  “Yes,” Wathaet said. “He wants a full plantpak with all the trimmings.”

  “True,” Tyler said. “But I’m not so sure I want it from a beetle.”

  “Racism,” the beetle buzzed. “We exoskeletals are used to it.”

  “Man up,” Wathaet said. “The Ananancauimor are the best plant specialists in the western spiral arm. And Cori is the best of all of them.”

  “Modestly I must admit this is true,” the beetle said, mounting a small step-stool by the barber’s chair. “Are you going to lie down or must I get the stunner?”

  “Look,” Tyler said reasonably. “You don’t know a thing about human physiology.”

  “Au contraire,” the beetle buzzed. “I have researched everything your primitive medical profession has discovered and I will not be going in unaccompanied. Louisa is a specialist in alien physiology.”

  “Who is Louisa?”

  “I am,” a voice in the air said. “I am the medical AI. You need not fear, Mr. Vernon. We will first do a very thorough examination of your physiology. As you have noted, we are unfamiliar with human physiology. But we will not be after we have completed our thorough scan of you. Furthermore, any first-contact procedures must be reviewed by a medical board for safety and best practice.”

  “How long is that going to take?” Tyler asked. “I’m only on the station…”

  “The review will be more or less simultaneous with the examination,” Louisa said. “The majority of it consists of discussion amongst AIs. We communicate and decide…very fast.”

  “Is this an…invasive procedure?” Tyler asked.

  “The examination will not be,” Louisa said. “The plant procedure? Extremely. But you won’t feel it.”

  “Anti-infection protocols?” Tyler asked.

  “Are you saying I don’t run a clean aug parlor?” Cori buzzed angrily.

  “Not at all.” Tyler managed not to glance at the scuff marks on the walls. “Just getting a feel for the place.”

  “Can we leave it at ‘I know what I’m doing’?” Louisa said. “There is zero danger of infection. I’ll admit that Cori could tidy up a bit…”

  “It’s an atmosphere thing,” Cori said. “Make this place look like a hospital and I’ll lose half my custom! People go to hospitals to die!”

  “We call places like that…” Tyler was going to say “hospices.” “Good point. You’re right, Wathaet. Time to man up.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Louisa said. “If you could just climb in the chair and relax.”

  “Climb, yes,” Tyler said. “Relax?”

  “Right,” Wathaet said. “This is gonna take a while and I’m thirsty. See you back at the bar.”

  * * *

  “So…when does the examination start?” Tyler said a few minutes later. He had to admit the chair was more comfortable than it looked and he was even getting a bit sleepy.

  “I’ve been examining you since you came in the door,” Louisa replied. “I’m about halfway through.”

  “Oh,” Tyler said, looking around for the scanning equipment. All the icky floating stuff was still floating where it had been. “MRI?”

  “Distantly,” Louisa said. “GRI would be closer. Gravitic resonance imaging. Some magnetic. I’ve completed a thorough survey of your gross physiology and anatomy and am doing a chemical survey and interaction modeling. You’re remarkably similar to the Ngongot. Not in gross anatomical ways, but in interaction and biochemistry. Most Ngongot protocols will work perfectly well. By the way, on the subject of sepsis I see what you mean. You guys are sewers.”

  “Thanks,” Tyler said. “Some of that seems to be evolutionarily interactive, so…”

  “Oh, recognized,” Louisa said. “We won’t mess with the important suites. You actually seem to be missing some and we’ll take care of the interaction problems while we’re at it. The question is approaching: What do you want done?”

  “I’m not even sure what a ‘full plantpak’ means,” Tyler admitted.

  “Hypernet connection and memory buffer, mostly,” Cori buzzed. The beetle was busy behind Tyler’s head, which was causing him increasing paranoia. “In your case, since you didn’t have it as a kid: Immune system protocols. Geriatric stabilization. And, since you’re clearly pretty screwed up in places, ocular and aural adjustments and implants and a full rebuild on skeletal and vascular systems. That’s gonna cost a bit.”

  “I can hear just fine,” Tyler said. “Sure, I’ve got a little high-frequency hearing loss…And so I wear glasses?”

  “Do you want to see and hear clearly?” Louisa asked.

  “Yes, please,” Tyler said. “And if you could get rid of that weather knee, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” Cori said. “Four-fifty will do it. You got the stones?”

  “Are we talking four hundred and fifty or four hundred and fifty thousand?” Tyler asked. “Four million?”

  “Four hundred and fifty credits,” Cori said. “Unless you want to pay me four hundred and fifty thousand, which I’m not going to turn down.”

  “Uh…” Tyler said. “What else is available? Because I can afford some upgrades.”

  “Hooo,” Cori said. “Big spender. I like that. We can do a full prosthetic rebuild of your motor system…”

  “‘It cost an arm and a leg’ is a metaphor,” Tyler said quickly. “I was thinking more along the lines of…I dunno. What do you have? That keeps all my bits attached?”

  “Well, if you really don’t want the full cyborg package…” Cori said.

  “I really don’t want the full cyborg package,” Tyler said. “Can I get a list or something?”

  “How long you got?” Cori said. “There’s the athletic package. Very popular. Increased muscular density. Faster neural twitch response. Increased oxygenation systems. Hyper-cooling package. Balance systems, very good if you’re going to be in zero-gravity as well. No nausea, which you guys must get with that screwed up aural balance system. That’s all nanobased, so once we get past the basic plants it’s noninvasive since you’re a sissy. Personal combat package is a big seller around here…”

  “I can imagine,” Tyler muttered.

  “Skull hardening. Ribcage reinforcement. Micro-armor sub-integument weave…”

  “You do all that with nannites or something?” Tyler asked.

  “Nah, gotta do a full strip,” Cori said. “Don’t have the time today.”

  “And by full strip?” Tyler asked.

  “Pull off all the skin and muscle and adipose tissue and do the plant,” Cori said. “Takes a few hours.”

  “Skip,” Tyler said. “Maybe next time.”

  “Whatever,” Cori said. “Space-man’s package…”

  “I’ll take the basic package plus the natural athlete package, thanks,” Tyler said. “Keep it simple for now.”

  “Customer’s always right,” Cori said. “Louisa, where we at?”

  “Authorizations all in place and registered,” Louisa said. “We can start any time.”

  “What does start mean?” Tyler said.

  “First we’ve got to get a mapper into your neural system,” Cori said. “You might want to hold your head still.”

  “You’re going to stick a wire in my head?” Tyler asked, starting to turn around.

  “Oh, no,” Cori said. “Already did that. That’s why I said stay still. Right, Louisa, start the mapping.”

  “If you could please think about your first memory,” the AI said pleasantly. “And, remember, this is for science. So be honest…”

  For the next thirty minutes, Tyler was put through possibly the most unpleasant experience of his life. “Mapping” consisted of a long series of seemingly random questions—“Think of the taste of blue…”—flashes of random memories, muscular twitches and occasional strange feelings in odd parts of his body. All this culminating in…

  “OW!”

  “And pain mapping complete,” Louisa said in a kindly tone. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Yes,” Tyler said, panting. It had felt as if he’d been dropped in hot oil and even though the sensation was gone, the memory of being dropped in hot oil was still right there reminding him this is what it feels like to be dropped in hot oil. “That was bad. That was bad on toast.”

  “Well, it really was for science,” Louisa said. “Now that we have one human mapped it won’t be so bad for the rest. We’ll just have to check what the differences are and they’ll be right and tight. So…now comes the invasive bit. You’d probably rather be out for this. Permission to put you to sleep?”

  “You have to ask for that but not to put a wire in my head?” Tyler said. “And put to sleep is an expression on my planet…”

  “Anesthetize you so that you’ll be unconscious through the rest of the procedure,” Cori said. “No big deal. We just activate the sleep centers of your brain and then lock you down so you can’t wake up while we’re rummaging.”

  “I’ve done stranger things,” Tyler said, settling in. “I think. Okay, go ahead.”

  “And we’re going out in three, two, one…”

  * * *

  “What happened?” Tyler asked. “You guys started yet?”

  “Done,” Cori said. The beetle was across the room cleaning some instruments. “That’ll be five and a quarter, please.”

  “I don’t feel any…” Tyler started to say. Then the tornado hit.

  “VAGOG’S GARGOBOTS! GET ’EM WHILE THEY’RE…” “INTERGALACTIC COSMETICS ANNOUNCES…!” “INTERSTELLAR SUPERDEALMART! INTERSTELLAR SUPERDEALMART!” “BIG BARGO’S BARGAIN BARN!”

  “AAAAH!” Tyler screamed. His head was filled with images, most of them so alien he couldn’t even process them, as well as a string of seemingly random commercials. He couldn’t even hear himself think.

  “Crap,” Cori said. “Louisa, put up a trans-block. I forgot he was getting his first node-plant.”

  “Ah…” Tyler said as the cacophony cut off. “That was…”

  “You are going to have to learn how to control your implants, Mr. Vernon,” Louisa said. “I’ll adjust them so that they are dialed up to high protection. But if you want to be able to fully and openly communicate you’re going to have to learn how to filter.”

  “And how, exactly, do I do that?” Tyler asked.

  “It’s a skill,” Louisa said. “The implants work interactively with your brain so the more you use them for more different purposes the better you get. But you won’t get the full use until you start to grasp the full function of the implants. You are, at some point, going to have to open up.”

  “If you can…dial them up or down…” Tyler said. “I don’t want people to have remote access…” He suddenly realized he hadn’t, in fact, opened his mouth. Just thought the query. More like mused on it.

  “I can,” Louisa said. “Here. While you are still a patient and in this room. Otherwise you are quite well firewalled. Why would anyone use a system that was not secure? The first thing you might want to be careful of is comming when you don’t intend to.”

  “Great,” Tyler said. Aloud. “I need to use these to buy some stuff. How do I…?”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Cori said, dragging him out of the chair. “I’ve got another customer coming in. Go play with them. Have fun. Good-bye.”

  Tyler found himself back in the disreputable service tunnel.

  “Excuse me,” what he at first took to be a robot said. “You’re blocking the door.”

  “Sorry,” Tyler commed, standing aside. When the robot went through it was apparent it either had a thing for Glatun hair down its back or it was a Glatun cyborg.

  Tyler walked down the service tunnel quickly. Fortunately, other than a little blood, there was no sign of the nonchalant gentle Glatun from earlier. As soon as he reached the main corridor he looked around for a hypernet terminal but the only one was clearly broken.

  “Crap,” Tyler said. “Taxi,” he said, thinking at his implants. “I need a taxi.”

  “Itthe cab,” a voice responded.

  Voices in my head. Great.

  “Hi, I need a cab to take me to my lodgings,” Tyler said. “I’m not sure of my location, but I’m near Kulo’s…”

  “Dispatched,” the voice replied. “Two minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Tyler said. There was a distinct…feeling of the communication being cut off.

  “Well,” he muttered. “That worked.”

  “Hey, buddy, can you spare a credit for a veteran?”

  Tyler looked at the rubbish-besmeared Glatun and shrugged.

  “I can, I just don’t have a way to do it,” Tyler said. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay, man,” the bum said, then wandered off.

  “The more things change,” Tyler said as the cab pulled up. It was pretty much the same as the last one. Come to think of it, the green stain on the cover…

  “Hey, Tyler!” the cab said, dropping the canopy. “You waiting for me to get stole or something?”

  “Not at all,” Tyler said, dropping into the cab.

  “Where to?” the cab asked, pulling out without waiting for the information.

  “I’ve got it here, somewhere,” Tyler said, pulling out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “The Ghozhozizpilhowacxashaphiq… This is worse than a Hawaiian name…cawobeyxolegul…”

  “The Ghoz,” the cab said. “No problem.”