Grantville Gazette, Volume VIII Page 4

  * * *

  "This is the best we can do." Doctor van Trumpe held up something that looked like a tiny wine bottle. It contained a cloudy liquid with the slightest pink tint. "Three M extracts it from the organs—the pancreas actually—of slaughtered pigs."

  Allie knew insulin came from pigs and cattle, back before human insulin was available, but she was no less squeamish for the knowledge. "Well," she said resolutely, "it's better than no insulin." She squeezed Hugo's hand. In the past week they had become quite close. He wasn't her boyfriend, but lately he was the only person she felt understood how she was feeling.

  She looked to her parents. The chairs had been set up in pairs; one for the Haggertys, one for the patients.

  "Doctor van Trumpe?" Ernest Haggerty asked, "will this work?"

  "Eventually, of course, the product will be pure. It is natural, so it will work." He set the vial down on his desk. "It works now, but the question is how much to use. The concentration is weak and not entirely pure. The effects are not always consistent."

  "It's better than nothing." Bobby Jean blinked back tears.

  Allie tried to put herself in her parent's position; losing their daughter just as she came of age, but she couldn't.

  The doctor went to his desk and took out a small box. He opened it and showed the contents to Allie. It held two glass syringes with huge evil looking needles that appeared to be made of brass. "These are the best syringes we have," he said, offering one to her. "They are large but with the new concentration, it should not be a problem. The needles are replaceable, but not easily.

  "You will come here twice a day, before and after school, for your shot. You will not skip a day, no matter how ill you are. We will start by giving you your shots."

  Allie relaxed slightly at that.

  "But, you must learn to do it yourself someday. So, before you leave here today . . ." He took the other syringe and filled it with clear liquid from another bottle. ". . . you will have to give yourself a saline injection. Like so." He demonstrated on his own arm. Then he picked up the bottle of saline and handed it to Allie. "Your turn."

  * * *

  Hugo came to stay with the Haggertys shortly after Allie began to take the insulin. He was a down-timer and an orphan, so he didn't have any support net. He had come to Grantville seeking education. He was taking classes to pass the infamous GED when he fell ill.

  Since he was so young he had no trade, no stake, and he was too sick to labor and learn one. Ernest and Bobbie Jean took him in. He got on well with Allie and God knew she needed an understanding friend.

  They gave him the spare room. Hugo was immensely pleased. He'd never lived in such a fine building before. He lay in the comfortable bed, unable to sleep but not wanting to disturb his hosts. He had faith in American technology. Soon they would have better medicine and he could give himself the shots.

  He'd seen the wasting sickness before. Those who got it as a child died, usually starving no matter how much they ate. It was a terrible thing.

  Dear Lord, please let this work. Please watch over Allie for me, and the Haggertys. Please allow the medicine to work. Not just for us, but for everyone who has and will have the wasting sickness. Please bless us with your infinite mercy. Please bring us another miracle.

  December 29, 1633

  Allie's boots crunched in the new snow as she and Hugo marched through the empty cornfield. She was cold to the point of shivering. "Why are you bringing me out here?" She thought when he asked her to walk with him that they would walk hand-in-hand and talk about romantic things.

  The only light around came from the pathetic bullseye lantern he carried. "I can't feel my toes, Hugo." He didn't answer. She scanned the horizon, but failed to see anything of importance. The town was behind them. She could see the lights but not much else. "The Moon isn't even out," she added.

  Hugo stopped in the middle of the field. Holding the lantern aloft so that she could see, he smiled broadly and spoke. "We are here."

  "Where, Hugo?" She knew there was a hint of irritation in her voice. "We are where?"

  He swept the lantern around to indicate the field. "Here," he repeated simply.

  "Hugo," she replied, the impatience mounting in her voice, "I don't see anything. What do you expect me to see?"

  "Stars." He dowsed the lantern.

  She looked up. "Oh, my God. They're beautiful. I've never seen the stars like this."Grantville was far from the major sources of light pollution in the twentieth century, but in seventeenth-century Germany, the town sat under an inky black sky. Impossibly bright stars burned in the sky like so many bale fires. "Hugo, they're amazing!"

  "They are beautiful." He looked at the ground for a moment before gazing into her eyes. "Like you."

  She didn't know what to say. No up-time boy had ever taken her out on a moonless night to show her the stars.

  "The brightest one is Jupiter." He looked back to her to make sure she understood. "Is planet, not star. But star south and west, is Alpha Taurii. Mohammedans call it Aldebaran."

  She leaned closer to him, snuggling for warmth, but also to see better. He wrapped his cloak over her shoulders.

  "To south of Jupiter is Alpha Orionis. Is also called Betelgeuse. Is brighter than Aldebaran. It is point four magnitude, while . . ."

  Allie placed a finger over his lips. "Shh. Talk about the stars, not the math." She grasped his other hand in hers.

  He turned toward the eastern horizon and pointed to a small red light. "That is planet Mars. He has two moons, but we can't see them." He turned to her and gave a pleading look. "Up-time stories say you sent machines to fly there. Is true?"

  "Yes, Hugo, it is true."

  He was silent for several minutes. "Marvelous," he said at last.

  Her watch beeped. "Oh my God, Hugo," she declared, suddenly alarmed. "It's midnight. We gotta get home. My parents will be worried."

  He started walking toward the town, pulling her hand. "Come," he said chuckling. "Your parents will not worry. I keep you safe."

  She laughed at this, but still they hurried.

  * * *

  Hugo looked over the cathode ray tube sitting face down on a blanket on top of the kitchen table. The television had gone out the week before during a program he'd really wanted to see, and the technician who diagnosed it said that the tube was bad. No replacement parts were available so it couldn't be fixed. Ernest gave him the set after it broke as a project. When it turned out it couldn't be fixed, Hugo sold the chassis—it still had many useful parts that could be cannibalized.

  But he kept the tube. He had a plan, and the money he made selling the spare parts would make it happen.

  He would take the twenty-five inch TV tube and make a telescope out of it. He had the parts, or most of them, and Mister Haggerty said he could use his tools. He'd even promised to help.

  Hugo could buy what few special parts he would need. And hardware, of course. That would be expensive. And most expensive of all would be the silvering of the mirror. He sat down at the table and began to draw.

  * * *

  Oh my God, what am I gonna do, Allie thought. When she was eight years old and her grandmother was dying she had asked her mother why. "Because it's God's will," Momma had answered, "and you just have to do the best you can with what God gives you." That made Allie feel better somehow. Her mother had added, "that's all you could ask of anyone," to which her father replied "take it in the shorts and press on." That remark had her father sleeping on the couch for a week. Allie had never understood the quip until now.

  She had several thick references out and was busy researching

  "Allie?" came a voice over her shoulder. She turned to see Matt Tisdale standing behind her. He had his chemistry book in his hand. She recognized Michael Fritz and Kevin Norris behind him.

  "Yes, Matt?"

  "Could you help us? We're having some problems."

  "Yeah," cut in Michael. "This stuff is hard. I don't understand."

&nb
sp; Allie gestured toward the chairs around the table. "Sure, I'll help. Sit down, guys." She herded her papers into a neat pile. The three boys took the seats, opening their own texts and getting out their notebooks.

  "What's the problem?"

  After some discussion of the chemistry problem that had the boys stumped, Matt smacked his forehead. "Ah, now I get it." He turned and looked at his buddies.

  "Right on, Allie." "Thanks." "All right" The boys started to leave. Allie let them, because she suddenly felt dizzy.

  On the way out Michael blew her a kiss and called, "Allie, you're a genius."

  The dizziness mounted. Allie stood up, then tottered a bit. Then she fell with alarming speed.

  "Allie!" Michael called. Allie didn't hear him; she passed out before her head hit the table.

  * * *

  "Allie, how are you feeling?" Doctor Adams seated himself on a small stool and looked up at her from his new vantage point. "You had a little faint. Do you remember what happened?"

  "Well . . ." Allie paused. Somehow she was in the doctor's examining room. She was still dizzy and there was a sharp pain shooting through her back. "I was in the library, studying when some boys came along and asked for some help with their homework."

  Her mother seemed to appear out of thin air and handed Allie a glass of water. It wasn't enough. She drained the glass. "Can I have more please?" Then Allie turned back to Doctor Adams. "The guys were just leaving . . . I guess I must have passed out. I was really dizzy right before, but I just can't describe the feeling. I couldn't move. I was aware, but my muscles just wouldn't move. My body wouldn't obey." She shuddered. "It was the scariest thing that ever happened to me."

  * * *

  Hugo had heard of some of these men. Copernicus and Galileo were among his favorites, but the one who fascinated him most was Isaac Newton. He wouldn't even be born for ten more years, but the books said Newton would to revolutionize the world. He would invent many things including a new type of telescope. There were illustrations of his design and fantastically realistic photographs that showed the stars and planets as he'd never seen them. He was awestruck.

  Hugo didn't remember a time when he wasn't fascinated with the sky. He idly copied the illustration of the Newtonian reflector into his notebook. When he finished he turned back to the text and read about a man named William Herschel. He stopped only to eat a snack and drink a glass of water.

  * * *

  Allie bounced into the room and Hugo smiled and sighed inwardly. She was so very pretty. But she was rich and above his station, although she'd always been kind to him. She even smelled intoxicating.

  "Hugo, would you like to go to the prom with me?"

  He couldn't believe his ears. She was a high school student soon to graduate and with a future. He was an orphan, abandoned from day one, and poor as a church mouse.

  "Hugo? Are you okay? How is your blood sugar?"

  "It is not that. I never expected . . . surely someone in your school has asked you."

  "I'm asking you, Hugo."

  "Of course." Hugo blinked back tears. "I just wasn't sure you liked me."

  "I like you, Hugo."

  "No," he blushed. "I mean like that."

  "I do like you like that, Hugo." She leaned forward a little bit further and kissed him.

  February 14, 1634

  Allie stopped and leaned over panting, her hands on her thighs. "Hugo, I'm tired."

  "Just a little farther, Allie. I promise."

  "But you can hardly see the stars. There's a full moon out."

  "Please," he smiled immensely. "Indulge me." Dim light lit his face.

  She didn't reply, but held out her hand again and let him pull her along. He led her into a copse of trees and stopped at a fallen log. He kicked over the log, and luminescent fragments of wood sprayed across the ground.

  "You brought me out here to show me foxfire?"

  "No. Not quite." He spoke softly but tugged her arm. They continued for another several yards. The thick undergrowth of the glen gave way to a clearing. He watched as Allie walked into the clearing, looking at the glowing debris set out along the ground. She stared at it momentarily, confusion evident on her face. Then she backed up a little, moved around the perimeter of the clearing until she'd lined up the figure that Hugo had spent all morning drawing. "Hugo," she gasped. "That's so sweet."

  She stood at the foot of the giant heart picked out in foxfire. The words "Be Mine" were spelled out in English, but in a Gothic font. He'd spent some considerable time making this. "Happy Valentine's day, my sweet."

  "You've given me the stars." He could barely see the light from the foxfire illuminating her tears. She squeezed his hand. "You couldn't show me the stars in the sky so you brought them down here for me." She seemed deeply touched, but paused as if working something out.

  "But how did you know?" Confusion was evident in her voice.

  "Your friend Michael. He told me." He stooped and picked up a bunch of wildflowers, cut and bound with a ribbon. He offered them to Allie. "For you."

  "Flowers! At this time of year?"

  "Hothouse." He stepped closer again.

  "But that's so expensive." He gave a noncommittal shrug.

  They were now standing face to face, with only the flowers she held tightly in both hands between them.

  He leaned forward so that his face was just inches from hers. "I like you."

  When they kissed, she dropped the flowers.

  * * *

  "How's it going, sport?" Ernest looked up from the tiny lenses he was polishing. "You need a snack?"

  "I'm fine." Hugo answered amiably. "I'm almost done. The mount works well, but I'm going to have to find a way to make fine adjustments."

  "What about a worm gear?"

  "Please?"

  "A worm gear," Ernest repeated. "It's like a long screw that turns a gear; very useful for small adjustments. Here," he said, showing him the action of a crescent wrench. "It works like this."

  After a moment, Ernest muttered, "I sure could use a cold beer right now." He said the words cold-beer, as if it were one word, then added, "It's a sad thing to have a German son who can't drink beer." He switched back to his normal voice. "Do you want some water, Hugo?"

  "Ja, bitte."Hugo went back to the hand-copied references and discovered that another way to make the necessary adjustments was something called a friction brake. He had no idea what one was, but wrote the words in his notebook in case one of the up-timers at the library could tell him. They were getting used to seeing him by now. He'd spent many hours there, copying text and illustrations and asking endless questions.

  He was astonished with how much work was necessary to grind the glass blank just to make it spherical. He had yet to make the circle into a parabola, but that could wait. The only thing left to do now was silver the mirror.

  "Soon," he said aloud, "it will be done soon."

  * * *

  "What's happening to me?" Allie demanded of Doctor Adams.

  "At first, we thought it was inconsistent batching, but other patients would have had a problem as well. Zijbert thinks it might be MODY."

  "Motie?" Allie asked. "Like the novel?"

  Doctor Adams didn't react to the reference. "MODY," he repeated, somehow, against all logic, pronouncing it in all caps. "Mature Onset Diabetes in the Young. Sometimes a patient presents as a type one but in reality is another type altogether. Typically, MODY patients require less insulin. We may even be able to treat you with other drugs. The up side is that your prognosis looks much better than a type one."

  "What about Hugo?"

  "Now, Allie, you know I can't discuss another patient with you."

  "But he's my boyfriend."

  "I'm sorry, Allie, but I really can't say. It's too early in any case, but I have to tell you, you both look much better than you did. How are you feeling?"

  "Fine." Her answer was flat and somewhat cold.

  He patted her on the back of the hand.
"I'm sorry, Allie, we all are. I know it's not fair but there is not much we can do . . ." His voice trailed off weakly.

  She stood mute, staring at him for several minutes. The silence continued until Nurse Baldwin came into the examination room.

  "Hey, sweetie," she said, looking at Allie and smiling. "Congratulations."

  Allie gave her a look. "For?"

  "Graduating high school, hon. It's one of the most important things you can do in life. Besides, it keeps your mind busy. You gotta plan your future; when you beat this thing . . ." She stopped when Allie stiffened. "Hey, and you'll be eighteen soon. You'll be an adult."

  "Yes," Allie paused. "I will. Which brings us back to the point." She turned to Doctor Adams and gave him a serious look. "If you can take me off insulin, it will mean more available for Hugo. I think he could use more. I will quit taking the injections if you think I should."

  "I think we should try it." He wrote his recommendation in her chart. "But don't worry about Hugo. The insulin is working well enough for him. You've surely noticed how much he's filled out in the last six months."

  "Yes," Allie said. Indeed I have.

  May 22, 1634

  "Happy birthday." Allie's mother handed her a small package wrapped in brown paper. "It's not much," she apologized, "the insulin is so expensive."

  "Oh, Momma," Allie was overwhelmed. The reminder that they had been paying for her and Hugo's insulin made her feel deeply obliged. "You didn't have to."

  "We want to," her father cut in. "We love you." He turned to Hugo. "Both of you."

  This made Allie cry until her mother stopped her.

  "Come on, baby, open it."

  Allie tore into the wrapping and recovered a small jeweler's box. She opened it and gasped. She set the box down beside her tiny slice of birthday cake and took out a silver locket on a chain. She opened it and smiled tearfully. There was a small painting of Hugo set inside.