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894. judithathome - 1/18/2009 5:35:49 PM (Jen, great shot! And great STORE!) 895. alistairConnor - 1/19/2009 7:57:19 PM "Good morning, Dr Cascu!"
"Good morning, you're looking..." Cascu didn't finish the sentence.
"Yes I know : nice tan, but I'm looking terrible. Divine retribution for taking a summer holiday in the middle of winter : I got the flu from hell."
Alistair had been sad when his previous doctor had retired, and initially rather suspicious of her young Rumanian replacement. It seems young French doctors are too lazy or too greedy to take on a little country practice; whereas the miracle of the European Union opens the jobs up to all comers, as long as they speak French. Hence the veritable onslaught of Rumanian doctors in rural France: it helps, perhaps, that their principal alternative is a career at 300 euros a month in the Rumanian health system.
And Cascu, in any case, was a goodun. Alistair had grown to respect and trust him. Always he would go the extra distance, look at the big picture, ask probing questions unrelated to the original subject of the visit. Alistair liked that.
Most doctors would now go through a perfunctory "Say aaah" routine, then write a scrip for four or five palliatives, sign the sick leave form, then ching ching, next please! Cascu, he knew, would not let him off that easily. So he stretched his aching body out on the examination table.
But the examination was over rather quickly, as it happened. Examining Alistair's skin, the doctor's eyes narrowed, then widened, and he took a step backward, and asked if he had experienced any symptoms other than the classic flu ones.
His tone and manner were still friendly and professional, but something there conveyed a clear subliminal message to Alistair : something like "please don't be alarmed, but you're in really deep shit now." As he related the strange "jetlag" episodes in Hong Kong and Lyon, Cascu broke out a couple of surgical masks, put one on, and gave the other to Alistair. Then he filled the air of the consulting room with an antiseptic aerosol spray. At least now we don't need to keep pretending to smile, thought Alistair.
"So, what's it all about Doc?" Cascu explained that there was a need for specialised blood tests. "I don't think they can be done in France. Germany perhaps. Your girlfriend : you live with her in town during the week, yes? Have you ... excuse me, have you made love since your return? Yes? Then she will need to be tested too. And I'm putting you both on a month's sick leave."
"WHAT!" Alistair hit the roof. "You're going to have to fill in a few more details before I can agree to that!"
"In the first instance, you should both be quarantined until we get a blood diagnosis. I suggest you should go to your place, out here in the country. I really don't want to be mysterious, but I promise I will tell you more tonight, I'll make a housecall."
Well that's something, thought Alistair. A doctor in France making a housecall. Wonders will never cease. 896. alistairConnor - 1/19/2009 9:43:46 PM Sorin Cascu spent most of the afternoon on the phone to Rumania. He was something of a rarity among his generation of Rumanian doctors, in that he actually had a detailed working knowledge of the medical aspects of ... the subject. It had been in decline for decades at the Bucarest medical school, becoming a little-chosen optional subject, and had been completely scrubbed from the curriculum during the European Union normalization process. For this is the other side of the coin concerning freedom of movement for European professionals : the body of knowledge imparted must be standardized, from the Atlantic to the Urals (or nearly. To the Carpathians, anyway.) So European committees lop off any trace of folk remedies, esoterism, empiricism or anything else not "rigorously science-based".
However a couple of the older professors continued to teach the subject, not exactly clandestinely, but informally. A Transylvanian himself, Sorin had considered it an essential part of his medical education, and attended all the evening classes, despite his heavy workload. In his fifth year, they were denounced by the modernists for misuse of university premises, and were obliged to switch to private venues. This had created no great logistical difficulties, since there were fewer than a dozen students in the class, out of a cohort of six hundred. But it had certainly facilitated the development of his relationship with Dumitra... 897. alistairConnor - 1/20/2009 12:08:23 PM Dumitra! Their love had seared his soul, and, as a wise friend had noted, perhaps made his heart inaccessible to ordinary women.
Among the study group, she was always the most engaged, inquisitive, and as Sorin soon realised, her interest extended well beyond the medical aspects of ... the phenomenon. She was involved with other groups on the subject, not medical at all, and tried to take Sorin with her on her journey of discovery. He resisted firmly, wishing to stick within the medical domain. She interpreted this as weakness and fear, and began to despise him a little.
The final betrayal and break-up happened days before their final exams. This timing is probably what saved him from the depths of howling despair : discipline, rigour and hard work enabled him to shut her into a tiny corner of his mind.
Alistair's case brought her back in full force, by association. He persuaded himself that she could be a useful resource in his research.
Professor Albu, his old mentor, was delighted to hear from him, and eager to help. He remembered Dumitra, of course, but had no news of her since medical school. He gave Sorin a number of contacts among those of the medical profession who were still engaged in the surveillance and control of ... the phenomenon.
For the centuries-old networks were breaking down. Part of the social fabric through the centuries of feudal and imperial regimes, the struggle against vampires had continued, in one form or another, throughout the twentieth century. Of course, the Communists had attempted to wipe out this superstition, subjecting exorcists and potion-brewers to severe re-education; but the Party itself had been infiltrated to the highest level, and following a narrowly-averted coup d'état, they changed course and medicalized the phenomenon. By discreet sanitary measures, they locked down vampirism to tolerable levels.
Now, only the older professionals took the business seriously, and had no funding. Although official statistics were no longer collected (move along, nothing to see here), there were clear indicators that the phenomenon was on the rise. 898. alistairConnor - 1/20/2009 12:27:32 PM [Sorry for being The Me! I was severely jetlagged when I read Nu's post, and it sparked something. And now I'm sitting around having the flu, with nothing in particular to do... I'll try to leave openings for others.
Perhaps we need to decide on a common thread for the story? An emerging worldwide epidemic of vampirism and how it was defeated, or a love story, or ???
Sorry Nu, on re-reading it's clear I've fkuced up the science already. The infectious thing can't propagate the Changer status, obviously, which appears to be hereditary? It must be a third, ancillary, category, of Enablers. Our out on this is that medical science cannot distinguish between the three categories through blood analysis. Perhaps you could take up the technical fiction aspect?] 899. alistairConnor - 1/20/2009 4:11:39 PM [OK how's this for the overall plot : a conspiracy of vamps, perhaps California based, are propagating the Enabler epidemic in a plot for world domination. Nobody knows yet what the prognosis is for Enablers, nor how exactly the Perps can use or control them...
Not all vamps are on board with the conspiracy : some are traditionalists, pining for good old blood-sucking feudalism. Others are new-age types, wishing we could all accept our differences and just get along (Sophie's group?). Plenty of room for loners, renegades, confused adolescents etc.
Meanwhile, individuals and groups who become aware of the menace need to network and organize to overcome it...
What do y'all think?
For a vampire hater I'm taking it all far too seriously. That's what the flu will do for you.] 900. NuPlanetOne - 1/20/2009 9:34:46 PM alistair...
By all means, you have moved the story along quite nicely! It does seem more logical to write bigger chunks at one time, as the muse dictates. And your plot outline will expand mine, but we must not lose sight of the transport aspect. And don't worry about being too serious, we can have a Bela Logosi impersonator leading a Vamp cult fan club behind the whole thing, or something equally outrageous to tie in the traditionalists. And definitely some new fangled excorcism-ish rite totally untraditional. Anyway, you are on a roll. Carry on! 901. Jenerator - 1/21/2009 2:50:55 AM I guess I am just invisble! 902. alistairConnor - 1/21/2009 6:07:53 PM Good lord Jen, I'm longing for you or someone else (Judith!?) to get their teeth into the actual vampires. I won't be touching them with a bargepole (or even a stake) because I know nothing of the genre.
I've got some ideas for Dr Cascu, who will soon be in touch with Dr Kronen, of course. And I'm afraid I'll have to develop "Alistair" further too, to establish him as the sceptical outsider (but not the reluctant hero : I suspect he'll miss all the action and remain unconvinced to the end.)
In other news, I have finally managed to see my (Rumanian) doctor. And he put me on sick leave for the whole week. (And he was wearing a surgical mask.) 903. NuPlanetOne - 1/23/2009 1:58:18 AM Jen....
You are totally visible, you followed up as promised but alistair just caught the ball and ran with it. I think you set the stage for Kronen and introduced Sophie, so you must sketch them into the plot. At least before alistair has a second wind. 904. alistairconnor - 1/23/2009 11:59:22 PM Alistair and Halima spent much of the afternoon speculating as to what cruel and unusual disease they were subjected to. "Some sort of tropical fever? Malaria?" she guessed. "No, nothing like that's endemic in New Zealand." he replied.
"Rabies then? Been bitten by anything?"
"No, NZ is the cleanest place on earth for all that nasty stuff."
"Oh really. Then I guess it's some obscure sexual affection. You'd better come clean with me. Or should that be : you'd better come cleanly with me?"
"At last! The doctor's here!"
"Don't think that'll get you off the hook my dear..."
Cascu had, by arrangement, brought some groceries. They had agreed to make the quarantine as complete as possible, at least until they had some test results.
"So, Doctor : what have we been tested for exactly?"
"Well." Cascu looked uncomfortable. "It's a phenomenon that is often associated with Rumania..."
"Child gymnasts?"
"Creepy dictators?"
"Deplorable orphanages?"
"Vampires?"
"The last one, I'm afraid."
"..."
"Oh come on Doc. I never got bitten by anything bigger than a large mosquito. There were pretty young women dressed as vampires in New Zealand, but none of them even tried to kiss me in the neck. I don't understand it, I gave them every opportunity. But all joking aside, you expect social security to pay us sick leave for ... suspected vampirism?"
"Actually, that is a non-trivial problem in itself."
"Ah, so you and I and Halima are likely to end up being prosecuted for fraud because of your crackpot ideas?"
"No : you and I and Halima are likely to end up being prosecuted for fraud because social security will never admit to such a medical condition, even if it does get identified and categorised scientifically. Which is far from being the case at the moment. Yes, I'm afraid we're all in for financial difficulties if my tentative diagnosis gets confirmed."
"Doctor, frankly, if we're to turn into vampires, financial difficulties are not the most pressing of our worries!"
"I wish you wouldn't laugh when you say that. On the other hand, there's no harm in it. As long as the worst is not certain." 905. webfeet - 1/24/2009 12:11:03 AM So, how is "Alistair" feeling today?
Not bad for flu-inspired prose, mon cher, especially the odd part about your doctor wearing a surgical mask. I like the eerie way you wove that in, coupled with the detail that he is Romanian, Transylvanian or whatever. You know, garlic is very good for warding off colds as it is vampires...
Jen, adorable shot. Now, who is the texan? You should follow Nigella's lead and whip off the denim and show off your hooters. One question: what is that Nigella has on the table, brandied toads? Did you sample one?
Hmmm..I wonder what sort of Guerlain-inspired wonder dust does Nigella sprinkle all over to get that glow. We could use some in dismal, sub-arctic New York. Although today was like spring in comparison. It went up to 37.
Well, carry on vampires. With Jen's agile plot devices, you are actually getting somewhere..I think..although i confess to be being perplexed by the 'changer status'. This sort of jargon eludes me.
906. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 12:30:35 AM In the meantime, Alistair and Halima were both on ten-day sick leave for the flu : an unusually long break but not unheard of. In fact, Alistair's flu was severe, and incapacitated him nearly that long; Halima had already had it, but during her holidays, with no time off work, so there was technically fraud, but again, nothing implausible.
Alistair and Halima had decided to suspend their disbelief, for the ten day period, and co-operate fully with Cascu and any other experts who could elucidate the matter. At the end of that time, if nothing conclusive turned up, they would go back to work and regard the whole thing as a fairy story.
Cascu had explained that the "vampire" infection was distinct from actual vampirism, which itself was a strictly hereditary condition. There were few observable symptoms of the infection, and no harmful effects, other than the little detail of being the slave of the vampire who originated the infection.
How did the vampire take control of the victim, and to what end? Evidence was very fragmentary and anecdotal on that score.
"The doctor who will be analyzing your blood samples was very interested in your episodes in Hong Kong and Lyon, especially when he learned that they happened at about dawn. He is convinced that you were used in some sort of teleportation mechanism. Ok, go ahead, laugh. I'm getting used to it. I confess I wonder if he's right in the head myself, I've never heard of such a phenomenon, but he claims to understand the physics of it. Kronen, his name is. He should receive your samples in Tübingen tomorrow. In the meantime, it seems likely -- to me, anyway -- that there is a vampire hanging around Lyon who has control over you."
"Well, I've been on a salary most of my life." Alistair remarked. 907. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 1:09:57 AM The following day, after a few more tries, Cascu had located Dumitra : she was a staff anaesthetist at a provincial maternity hospital. She was to start her shift that evening at eight o'clock.
In what was to become a regular routine, he went to see Alistair and Halima as soon as he closed up his surgery. They had spent the day scouring the internet for any useful information about vampires.
"How can you filter anything useful out of all this crap?" said Alistair. "Well, 99% of everything on the internet is crap", remarked Halima. "This is no different." "Well, maybe in this case it's just 100% crap!"
In fact, 90% of the hits were references to modern vampire fiction, which they discounted completely. Most of the rest was older fiction or folklore, a few anthropological or historical accounts, and pretty much zero scientific study.
"There is a reason for that." explained Barzu. "People who really know about the subject keep it secret. Either because they are vampires themselves; or because they know that any attempt at publication would result in them being tracked down and killed by vampires."
"Sounds plausible," admitted Alistair. "But Occam's Razor tells me that the more plausible reason for the absence of scientific literature is that the phenomenon doesn't exist. Sorry if I sound like a broken record."
The discussion was interrupted by a call on Cascu's mobile. It was Kronen, with the first results of their analyses.
"The tests are quite rapid to execute, and quite conclusive, concerning the "A" and "H" samples : both are positive. The "S" sample is negative, however."
"Thank you, Doctor Kronen. The S sample was mine, I included it as a control."
"I'm afraid the test isn't very specific : it's quite binary in nature. It indicates that the subjects are either vampires themselves, or have been infected by contact with vampires' bodily fluids. I have developed a serum which appears to negate or attenuate the... imperative effect, do you understand me Dr Cascu? Yes? It requires cultivation from the subject's own blood serum. I believe I ought to confide the formula to you, Doctor."
"That would be an honor, Dr Kronen."
"Bloody hell, so there are two crackpots now? And we're to be their guinea pigs eh?" 908. alistairconnor - 1/24/2009 1:29:40 AM Still, it seemed like some sort of breakthrough, or milestone at least, and required a commemorative drink. During the ensuing discussion, Cascu noticed that it was eight o'clock, tried to excuse himself, and was warmly retained. Then found himself telling the story of himself and Dumitra, to a receptive and sympathetic audience. In truth, she was a sort of ghost that he dreaded facing alone. Halima took his hand and said : "Well, are you ready to call her now?"
"Doctor Dumitra Nicolu? This is Doctor Sorin Cascu."
Silence.
"Sorin? ... What can I do for you, Dr Cascu?"
Without a doubt, she sounded shaken, full of emotion. Then mastered it with her habitual hard, biting tone.
"I ... I am working on an unusual case, involving vampires. Since we once shared an interest in the subject, I thought it might be possible to collaborate. Also, this offers an opportunity to inquire as to your health, your employment, your happiness..."
"It's all shit, Sorin. All of it. This job. My happiness, very amusing. And as for my health, thanks for inquiring... I'm HIV positive. Intravenous drug use, don't you know. Oh yes, give me the bourgeois moralist lecture on that, could you please Sorin dear? How could I? Well guess what, shit happens. I'm off the morphine now thanks. Nearly got struck off for that. Now I do crystal meth whenever I can afford it. I did some tonight. It's what keeps me alive."
"Are... are you with anyone?"
"Ha! You should know me better, Sorin. Only a loser could want me. Oh, plenty do, believe me. But I don't do losers, as you know. And as for your vampire story, forget it. I don't know any vampires. In fact, there's no such thing. So get out of my life again now, OK honey?"
Sorin blurted : "But, but I love you!"
But the line was already dead. 909. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 5:06:56 AM Dr. Kronen pushed the button overhead for the flight attendant; he simply could not wait any longer to take the antiserum. His legs were now burning and he felt as though he might pass out.
Within seconds one appeared, and she looked at Dr Kronen and noticed that he was moist with perspiration.
"Are you alright, sir?" she asked.
"Err, I am fine. I need a lavatory, now," Kronen replied.
The flight attendant looked him over and saw that the man seemed nervous, in a hurry.
"Hmmm," she thought aloud. "Passengers are supposed to remain seated while the plane sits in taxi. We should be taking off soon. It's best to keep your seatbelt fashioned."
She looked around and spotted another passenger who pressed his overheard button. Off she went.
Dr. Kronen knew he needed to act soon, so he stuffed his attache case down his pants and made a dash for the lavatory. What he didn't realize, though, was that the flight attendant was watching his every move and had radio'd security. 910. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 5:25:08 AM [Webfeet. Thank you! I have been a Nigella fan for 10 years now and was pleasantly surprised when I heard that she was coming to Dallas for a book signing. She was very friendly and we chatted for several minutes - she complimented my watch, and that was when the picture was snapped. Honestly, she really is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I bet Saatchi views her as his most valuable piece of art.
Nigella is quite a bit smaller than I imagined, too. Her waist is tiny and her impressive bust is not as enormous as it looks on tv. She's 49 and I am 37, and I would pay good money to have skin like that!
She served all of us various goodies from the book Nigella Express - those 'toads' were chocolate mint cookies, and they were actually very good.
I was one of only a handful of women waiting in line to meet her, and I think she was quite relieved by that. ] 911. Jenerator - 1/24/2009 8:28:56 PM That sounds weird. What I meant was, Nigella seemed genuinely relieved when there was the occasional woman in the line. Most of the men there were hoping to land her affections, others were gay but sill gobsmacked by her stunning beauty - all were mesmerized by her sensuality. Just sitting there in her simple pink cashmere sweater and long black skirt, she had an ethereal quality. I have never seen that in/on (?) any one else. 912. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 6:24:37 PM Courtney felt dumb.
She also felt cold, hungry, tired, lonely and depressed. But most of all, she felt really dumb.
She was sick of lurking around Lyon in the rain (it should at least be snowing!). She had no-one to turn to, and she really needed to go Coffed. And now she was going to have to call her mum, to sort it all out for her.
And it had seemed like such a great idea at the time...
The thing about being a teenage vampire -- an honest-to-god, hereditary one, not a fashion victim - was that you could have a lot of fun with it these days. Especially with the kids who took it seriously.
Not that she ever exploited that in a nasty way. It's just that she could flaunt her difference rather than having to hide it. Nobody ever took her really seriously on that stuff anyway, which was all part of the fun.
But this transport thing -- and it had been a really big thrill, the most exciting thing in her short experience as a vampire -- had gone sour on her.
Her mother was a Californian vampire, and I mean that in the best possible way. Really into personal development : transcendental meditation, transactional analysis, Zen buddhism, you name it, Lara had tried it. Courtney laughed at that stuff, but really it formed an integral part of her culture and values. Lara's inner seeking had lead her to New Zealand, where she had met and married Ted, an eccentric carpenter (who now did a nice little sideline in coffins). They had had Courtney, then divorced ten years later. She had returned to California with Courtney, but two years ago, because of her involvement with vampire politics, where she was increasingly branded as a dissident, she had sent Courtney back to New Zealand to live with Ted.
Mixed marriages were frowned upon in vampire culture (and in some subcultures, punishable by death) but were much more common than was generally acknowledged (children of mixed parentage were even more common, but that's another question). There is no way to predict if a half-caste child will be a vampire or not : the canine tooth thing is completely unreliable. The only way to know is to wait for the child to reach puberty, leave a nice comfy empty coffin open, and see if they take to it.
What were Lara's feelings when fourteen-year-old Courtney started sleeping in her coffin? Joy or heartbreak? She never would say more than : "I love and accept my daughter totally, as she is". 913. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 7:30:48 PM But she must, surely, have been relieved when it turned out that Courtney was a Changer, like herself. Of course she would still have loved her if she had had "special needs". Such as the need to stay in her coffin except at night time, like an ordinary vampire. But a Changer was much easier to live with, if you had chosen the route of integration into "normal" society, as Lara had chosen, for herself and for her daughter.
===========
"Courtney! Do you know what time it is in California? It's 4am! What the hell is so important?"
Courtney was already having trouble fighting the tears back. She just went with the flow for a couple of minutes. Her mother was quickly into supportive mode, and coaxed the whole sorry story out of her.
She had found the transport story on the internet. She had found that there was a surprising quantity of true vampire lore available among all the rubbish one could trawl through; not in the fashionable vampire fiction itself, but in the net culture surrounding it. Apparently she was not the only young vampire who liked to dabble, behind the safe anonymity of the net. She had identified three or four genuine vampires on MSN, among all the prattling make-believers.
So when "Jake" claimed that he knew how to teleport, she had taken him seriously, and she had learned to brew the potion and recite the incantation. And one night, she had climbed to the peak of one of Auckland's volcanic cones, and awaited the dawn while concentrating on a place a couple of hundred metres down the hill to the west, in an open field.
And it... had worked. No fireworks, no funny noises. No definable sensations either. She was just, suddenly, over there.
She'd been so excited she'd forgotten to be scared. And she'd forgotten ... sort of... to tell her mum about it. OK, so she knew her mum would disapprove. Lara wanted her to be knowledgeable in vampire lore, but to abstain from exercising it, as she herself did.
And she'd gone the extra step. The one that Jake had described as experimental : the use of a helper. He was evasive as to whether he had tried it himself. But the principle worked well, he claimed, and caused no harm to either party.
The opportunity had been there : her best friend's uncle was returning to France after a month's holiday. She'd never been to Europe, and, at seventeen, that was starting to become an affront to her cosmopolitan self-image.
The potion she needed to brew for herself required some organic material from the helper. That was easy enough : from the amount of hair on his pillow, you'd think he was on chemo. Then the contamination : easy to manage during a barbecue, a drop of her urine in his wine glass. She couldn't help thinking that by that stage of the evening, he probably would have drunk a whole glass of it if she'd asked him nicely. Still warm. With a pube floating on it. Then she slapped herself mentally for having such thoughts.
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