Part 26 (1/2)

”You mean symbiotes?” Gary said.

”Yes,” I said eagerly. ”What if this is some kind of symbiotic relations.h.i.+p? What if they're raising everyone's IQ or enhancing their emotional maturity, and it's having a good effect on us?”

”Things that sound too good to be true usually are. No,” he said, shaking his head. ”They're up to something, I know it. And we've got to find out what it is.”

On the tenth when I came to work, Penny was putting up the Christmas decorations. They were, as she had promised, something special: wide swags of red velvet ribbons running all around the walls, with red velvet bows and large bunches of mistletoe every few feet. In between were gold-calligraphic scrolls reading ”And kiss me 'neath the mistletoe, For Christmas comes but once a year.”

”What do you think?” Penny said, climbing down from her stepladder. ”Every floor has a different quotation.” She reached into a large cardboard box. ”Accounting's is 'Sweetest the kiss that's stolen under the mistletoe.' ”

I came over and looked into the box. ”Where did you get all the mistletoe?” I asked.

”This apple farmer I know,” she said, moving the ladder.

I picked up a big branch of the green leaves and white berries. ”It must have cost a fortune.” I had bought a sprig of it last year that had cost six dollars.

Penny, climbing the ladder, shook her head. ”It didn't cost anything. He was glad to get rid of it.” She tied the bunch of mistletoe to the red velvet ribbon. ”It's a parasite, you know. It kills the trees.”

”Kills the trees?” I said blankly, staring at the white berries.

”Or deforms them,” she said. ”It steals nutrients from the tree's sap, and the tree gets these swellings and galls and things. The farmer told me all about it.”

As soon as I had the chance, I took the material Gary had downloaded on parasites into Hunziger's office and read through it.

Mistletoe caused grotesque swellings wherever its rootlets attached themselves to the tree. Anthracnose caused cracks and then spots of dead bark called cankers. Blight wilted trees' leaves. Witches'broom weakened limbs. Bacteria caused tumor-like growths on the trunk, called galls.

We had been focusing on the mental and psychological effects when we should have been looking at the physical ones. The heightened intelligence, the increase in civility and common sense, must simply be side effects of the parasites' stealing nutrients. And damaging the host.

I stuck the papers back into the file folder, went back to my desk, and called Sueann.

”Sueann, hi,” I said. ”I'm working on my Christmas newsletter, and I wanted to make sure I spelled David's name right. Is Carrington spelled C-A-R-R or C-E-R-R?”

”C-A-R-R. Oh, Nan, he's so wonderful! So different from the losers I usually date! He's considerate and sensitive and-”

”And how are you?” I said. ”Everybody at work's been down with the flu.”

”Really?” she said. ”No, I'm fine.”

What did I do now? I couldn't ask ”Are you sure?” without making her suspicious. ”C-A-R-R,” I said, trying to think of another way to approach the subject.

Sueann saved me the trouble. ”You won't believe what he did yesterday. Showed up at work to take me home. He knew my ankles had been hurting, and he brought me a tube of Ben-Gay and a dozen pink roses. He is so thoughtful.””Your ankles have been hurting?” I said, trying not to sound anxious.

”Like crazy. It's this weather or something. I could hardly walk on them this morning.”

I jammed the parasite papers back into the file folder, made sure I hadn't left any on the desk like the hero in Parasite People from Planet X, and went up to see Gary.

He was on the phone.

”I've got to talk to you,” I whispered.

”I'd like that,” he said into the phone, an odd look on his face.

”What is it?” I said. ”Have they found out we're on to them?”

”Shh,” he said. ”You know I do,” he said into the phone.

”You don't understand,” I said. ”I've figured out what it's doing to people.”

He held up a finger, motioning me to wait. ”Can you hang on a minute?” he said into the phone, and put his hand over the receiver. ”I'll meet you in Hunziger's office in five minutes,” he said.

”No,” I said. ”It's not safe. Meet me at the post office.”

He nodded, and went back to his conversation, still with that odd look on his face.

I ran back down to second for my purse and went to the post office. I had intended to wait on the corner, but it was crowded with people jockeying to drop money into the Salvation Army Santa Claus's kettle.

I looked down the sidewalk. Where was Gary? I went up the steps and scanned the street. There was no sign of him.

”Merry Christmas!” a man said, half-tipping a fedora and holding the door for me.

”Oh, no, I'm-” I began, and saw Tonya coming down the street. ”Thank you,” I said, and ducked inside.

It was freezing inside, and the line for the postal clerks wound out into the lobby. I got in it. It would take an hour at least to work my way to the front, which meant I could wait for Gary without looking suspicious.

Except that I was the only one not wearing a hat. Every single person in line had one on, and the clerks behind the counter were wearing mail carriers' caps. And broad smiles.

”Packages going overseas should really have been mailed by November fifteenth,” the middle clerk was saying, not at all disgruntledly, to a little j.a.panese woman in a red cap, ”but don't worry, we'll figure out a way to get your presents there on time.”

”The line's only about forty-five minutes long,” the woman in front of me confided cheerfully. She was wearing a small black hat with a feather and carrying four enormous packages. I wondered if they were full of pods. ”Which isn't bad at all, considering it's Christmas.”

I nodded, looking toward the door. Where was he?

”Why are you here?” the woman said, smiling.

”What?” I said, whirling back around, my heart pounding.

”What are you here to mail?” she said. ”I see you don't have any packages.”

”S-stamps,” I stammered.

”You can go ahead of me,” she said. ”If all you're buying is stamps. I've got all these packages to send. You don't want to wait for that.”

I do want to wait, I thought. ”No, that's all right. I'm buying a lot of stamps,” I said. ”I'm buying several sheets. For my Christmas newsletter.”

She shook her head, balancing the packages. ”Don't be silly. You don't want to wait while they weigh all these.” She tapped the man in front of her. ”This young lady's only buying stamps,” she said. ”Why don't we let her go ahead of us?”

”Certainly,” the man, who was wearing a Russian karakul hat, said, and bowed slightly, stepping back.

”No, really,” I began, but it was too late. The line had parted like the Red Sea.

”Thank you,” I said, and walked up to the counter. ”Merry Christmas.”