Grub raised the lenses. 'Not bad. It's a human Western. Plenty of shooting and
'Maybe I'll borrow it when you're finished?'
'No problem, Doctor. But handle it carefully. Human disks are very expensive.
I'll give you a special cloth.'
Argon nodded. He remembered Grub Kelp now. The LEP officer was very particular
about his possessions. He had already written two letters of complaint to the
clinic board about a protruding floor rivet that had scratched his boots.
Argon consulted Koboi's chart. The plasma screen on the wall displayed a
constantly updated feed from the sensors attached to her temples. There was no
change, nor did he expect there to be. Her vitals were all normal, and her brain
activity was minimal. She'd had a dream earlier in the evening but now her mind
had settled. And finally, as if he needed telling, the seeker-sleeper implanted
in her arm informed him that Opal Koboi was indeed where she was supposed to be.
Generally the seeker-sleepers were implanted in the head, but pixie skulls were
too fragile for any local surgery.
Jerbal punched in his personal code on the reinforced door's keypad. The heavy
door slid back to reveal a spacious room, with gently pulsing floor mood lights.
The walls were soft plastic, and gentle sounds of nature spilled from recessed
speakers. At the moment a brook was splashing over flat rocks.
In the middle of the room, Opal Koboi hung suspended in a full body harness. The
straps were gel padded and adjusted automatically to any body movement. If Opal
did happen to wake the harness could be remotely triggered to seal like a net,
preventing her from harming herself.
Argon checked the monitor pads, making sure they had good contact on Koboi's
forehead. He lifted one of the pixie's eyelids, shining a pencil light at the
pupil. It pupil contracted slightly, but Opal did not avert her eyes.
Well, anything to tell me today, Opal?' asked the doctor softly. 'An opening
chapter for my book?'
Argon liked to talk to Koboi, just in case she could hear. When she woke up, he
reasoned, he would have already have established a rapport.
'Nothing? Not a single insight?'
Opal did not react. As she hadn't for almost a year.
'Ah well,' said Argon, swabbing the inside of Koboi's mouth with the last cotton
bud in his pocket. 'Maybe tomorrow, eh?'
He rolled the cotton bud across a sponge pad on his clipboard. Seconds later,
Opal's name flashed up on a tiny screen.
'DNA never lies,' muttered Argon, tossing the bud into a recycling bin.
With one last look at his patient, Jerbal Argon turned towards the door.
'Sleep well, Opal,' he said almost fondly.
He felt calm again, the pain in his leg almost forgotten. Koboi was as far under
as she had ever been. She wasn't going to wake up any time soon. The Koboi fund
It's amazing just how wrong one gnome can be.
Opal Koboi was not catatonic, but neither was she awake. She was somewhere
in-between, floating in a liquid world of meditation where every memory was a
bubble of multi-coloured light popping gently in her consciousness.
Since her early teens Opal had been a disciple of Gola Schweem, the cleansing
coma guru. Schweem's theory was that there was a deeper level of sleep than
experienced by most fairies. The cleansing coma state could usually only be
reached after decades of discipline and practice. Opal had reached her first
cleansing coma at the age of fourteen.
The benefits of the cleansing coma were that a fairy awoke completely refreshed
but also spent the sleep time thinking, or in this case, plotting. Opal's coma
was so complete, that her mind was almost completely separated from her body.
She could fool the sensors and felt no embarrassment at the indignities of
intravenous feeding and changing. The longest recorded consciously self-induced
coma was forty seven days. Opal had been under for eleven months and counting,
though she wasn't planning to be counting much longer.
Oldest romance writer in the world dies aged 105. Books #124 and #125 to be published next year(Dec 10 2013) Ida Pollock, author of more than 120 books, and believed to be the world's oldest romantic novelist, has died at the age of 105.