Bub blinked. Belgium had never noticed him blink before. His eyelids closed sideways, like elevator doors. It was disconcerting.

“You analyze my bloooooood,” Bub said. His voice had dropped an octave. “What else do you anaaaaaaalyze?”

“We have tissue samples going back 100 years.”

Bub appeared to think about this.

“Why do yooooou study meeee, Fraaaaaaank?”

“Hmm? Oh. To figure out what you are, my friend. Physiologically, you're more advanced than anything on earth. Mentally too. You've been learning English for less than six hours and already you're conversant. You're an amazing specimen.”

“Amaaaaaazing.”

“Very. For example, you clearly have the X and Y chromosomes, making you a male, but you have no genitalia... at least not that we've been able to find. Nor do you have a belly button. How were you born? How does your kind reproduce? Or is there only one of you? Questions questions questions.”

“Why are you heeeeere, Fraaaank?”

“To study you, Bub. The opportunity you represent is limitless, I've been doing research for...”

Bub cut him off. “You have to beeee heeeeeere.”

Frank's words died in his mouth, leaving a foul taste. “What?” he managed.

“Did you do something wrong, Fraaaaank?” 

Dr. Belgium swallowed. His mind involuntarily returned to his prior life, graduating top of his class at Berkeley, already thrice published, a Nobel Prize almost a foregone conclusion...

He'd first taken speed in graduate school. The courses were highly demanding, and he had to postpone sleep in order to learn everything that needed to be learned. Simple caffeine pills at first. Then ephedrine, available over the counter in health stores as ma haung extract. These worked for a time, limiting his sleep to five hours a night, but when five hours became too long, he switched to harder stuff.

A friend was able to hook him up with a Benzedrine supply. Bennies got him through school, got him his job at BioloGen, the largest genetics lab in the world, got him his Porsche, his house, his trophy wife.

But the work was even more demanding than school had been. He switched from Benzedrine pills to injecting Methedrine. To come down after a Methedrine buzz he started taking Librium and later Nembutal. He was stoned on Nembutal when he blew up Labs 4, 5, and 6 at BioloGen.

The police report called it criminal negligence. He'd left the gas line live on a Bunsen burner after the flame had gone out. Not even a kid in high school would have made such a careless mistake. The irony was that the burner wasn't even being used in an experiment. Frank had been using it to heat his coffee.

The explosion caused almost two million dollars worth of damage and lost research. Three people were killed. Frank had been in the bathroom, and walked away without a mark.

He hid nothing. After admitting to the drugs, he demanded to be arrested.

A lawsuit was filed. So were manslaughter charges. Frank lost it all; career, money, wife, and he went to jail. That's where President Reagan found him.

Prison gave him a chance to kick the drugs, and it also gave him penance for his wrongs. Frank didn't want to leave. Reagan arranged for a trip to Samhain, to give Frank an idea of what his country needed him for.

Frank never left. He traded prison of one type for prison of another. This new one was quieter, more demanding, and gave him a chance to help the world while being punished at the same time. Frank hadn't seen a sunset in twenty years. He missed it every day, and that's why he stayed.

Even when the incumbent President pronounced his sentence over, Frank stayed. He would finish the job he started; sequencing Bub's DNA. Only then would his penance be complete.

“That was a long time ago,” Frank whispered.

“I can help yoooou.”

“How?”

“I knoooow of genetics. I can give you my whole seeeequence. But I need a compuuuuuter.”

Frank thought it over. Twenty years without seeing the light of day. Was that long enough? Had he paid for his mistakes?

“I can get you a computer,” Dr. Frank Belgium said.

The demon made a sound that Belgium swore was laughter.

CHAPTER TEN

“I like snow, but not a lot of it,” Andy mumbled, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.

“Yeah, not a lot,” Sun agreed. “Too much snow and I hate it.”

“Exactly. Too much snow isn't good.”

Andy groaned inwardly. What the hell were they talking about? And why was Sun even bothering?

He stared at her across the cafeteria table and decided she must be patronizing him, hoping for an opportunity to escape. He couldn't really blame her. The only thing worse than their lame conversation was the food.

Andy looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. It needed fresh lettuce and tomato, neither of which were available. Canned tomatoes were a poor substitute. Even worse, the turkey was processed, and tasted it. Andy wondered how much was actually turkey, and what other chemicals, fillers, and by-products it contained.

“Good sandwich,” Andy said.

Sun nodded and looked at her watch. Andy decided not to talk anymore. He'd die if his ears turned red like that again. Last night he had to soak his head in the sink to get them to stop burning.

“You're an attractive guy,” Sun said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Andy waited for the rest, the part where she told him that even though he was attractive, she wasn't interested and hoped they could just be friends.

That part never came.

Was she playing with him? What was he supposed to say back?

Andy opened his mouth to return the compliment, but closed it again when he considered his ears.

Their eyes locked. He realized he was going to say it anyway, but the phone saved him. He got up and answered.

“Who is this, Andy or Sun?”

“This is Andy, Dr. Belgium.”

“Andy? This is Dr. Belgium.”

“I know.”

“I'm in Red 14 with Bub.”

“I know. Sun and I are almost done. We'll be right by.”

“No no no. Not necessary. Bub said, he said... all of this studying, he needed to rest for a bit. He took—he’s taking—a nap. Rest rest rest, must have rest.”

“Bub's sleeping,” Andy repeated, for Sun’s benefit.

“He doesn't sleep long,” Sun said. “Maybe fifteen minutes at a time.”

“Sun said he doesn't sleep long,” Andy said into the receiver.

“I know, but Bub was clear that he wanted to take a break. Rest rest rest.”

“Bub needs to rest rest rest,” Andy told Sun. “How about an hour?”

“An hour. An hour an hour... make it two hours. I'll be here, when Bub is ready to resume I'll let you know.”

“No problem.” Andy hung up. “Frank said Bub needs two hours of rest.”

“Interesting. Perhaps mental activities leave him more exhausted than physical ones.”

“I've always heard sleep is for the mind, not the body.”

“I've heard that too.” You're so damn beautiful, Andy wanted to say.

Sun said, “So... have you had enough of this clever banter?”

“God yes.”

“Do you play racquetball?”

“I'm a racquetball king.” Andy tried on a small smile, happy to have the conversation change. “If it ever becomes an Olympic event, I'm sure I'll be picked to represent my country.”

“We have some time. Up for a game?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Are you sure? Most men have ego issues when it comes to losing, especially to a woman.”

“Not a problem. I'm good at being a loser.”

Sun smiled, and the realization of what he just said hit him. Open mouth, insert foot...

“I'll meet you in Purple 5. Say, twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes. Fine.”

Sun finished her sandwich and stood up.

“It’s a date.” She spun on her toes and trotted off.