Crystal Healing

A Wilki Jhanden Story

Wilki Jhanden felt uneasy. The galaxy is a big place, and a human life so short. It was impossible to see it all, and he was content with that. but he did want to see as much of it as possible. Life. Life in a million different shapes and forms, ranging from simple machine-like entities to godlike sentiences, and every shade in between. The heavens were crowded, very crowded, and variety was not only the spice of life, it was its theme.

He had money, and he had the means to make more. But as long as he was able to maintain his lifestyle, he had no interest in it. Aliens interested him. So few species he encountered were even vaguely similar to humans in either form or disposition, and each encounter enriched him a little. It was amazing the perspectives and biases that were built into the human brain, sitting there for millennia, unquestioned because it was all we knew.

There were recurring patterns in sentient minds, and the quest for novelty was one of those, but in no other human had he met an equal in terms of restlessness. He found a certain sympathy in the rentari, a winged people who instinctively were always on the move, lest their limited supplies of a strange worm creature they fed on became too depleted in the one area. They were champion explorers, moving outwards from their home planet in all directions, leaving relics of their short visits before the urge to migrate drove them further.

Like the strange worms with their lengthy life cycles, novelty was a resource that could be depleted faster than replenished. Too much of reality lied ahead of him for him to ever be content with standing still, or moving backwards. And yet, moving backwards was exactly what he was doing. He had boarded the Colon Bracket, a large and reasonably well maintained passenger ship, as it was heading to the galactic core, but its route had curved to the point where it was now heading straight towards the Human Domain, a familiar pocket of space humanity could legally call its own.

He hadn’t realised just how unsettling this would be. It had been a long while since he had travelled in any direction but outwards, and each moment seemed to be weighing on his skin. This wasn’t an entirely rational concern, he would admit only to himself, as even the Domain held many wonders he had yet to witness. But he not only wanted to behold something new, but something that no human had ever come close to encountering.

As usual, he was spending time in the ship’s hall, a communal area where passengers capable of tolerating the conditions were free to mingle. Today, only humans were present, sitting comfortably in the atmosphere that was a very close mimic of Earth’s. Yesterday he had seen what appeared to be swarms of insects made out of pure light, but they had retreated to their quarters before he had the chance to study them. A game of poker, the game of the stars, was underway, playing not for money but for stories. Away from civilisation, entertainment was the only currency people respected.

Unusually enough, he wasn’t playing. Poker was the best way to pass the time, and as such opportunities to play were rarely squandered. But he was watching intently as the games unfolded, listening to the stories with a detached interest. There was something potentially more interesting than a few rounds of cards.

He waited for the current game to end before heading to the door, away from the crowd roaring with laughter. Ignoring the other players, he faced the latest loser, whose embarrassing revelation had been the price of defeat. He was a young faced man in his late thirties, his thin eyes lined with stress and sleeplessness. Dark, unkempt hair framed a face was that flushed red with ridicule and exhaustion. “Fancy a game?” Wilki asked him, blocking his path.

The other man blinked twice before answering. “Oh, er, I really should be getting back…”

“One hundred dollars if you win,” he said, fishing a note from his pocket. His eyes lit up at the sight of it. Perhaps money did have its uses after all…

“Oh, wow,” he replied before composing himself. “I don’t have that sort of money.”

“I don’t want money. If I win, you have to tell me what is bothering you.”

This produced more of a surprised expression than the flash of cash. “I… what? No, I couldn’t…”

“Out here, doctor, the laws don’t apply, patient confidentiality included.”

He gasped. “But… how did you…”

“Easily,” Wilki explained. “You have the eyes and hands of an intellectual, but your clothes are slick with the gel lining the inside of a suit. No doubt you are in and out of different environments all the time. So you are visiting people in their quarters, but not to do anything too brawny, like the crew would. And I’ve never met a doctor who could resist the sight of a hundred dollar note - you guys have more misses than hits, through no fault of your own, dealing with alien physiologies and illnesses so often, but it does reflect badly on your pay scales. So, do we have a deal? Here, I’ll make it one twenty.”

Wilki had spoken quickly, keeping the doctor off guard. His target of his attentions gave a sort of half nod without even realising it. He dragged the doctor over to a table, producing a deck of cards and a handful of chips. “We’ll keep it simple,” he dictated, shuffling the cards, “whoever collects all the chips wins.”

The game was fast. Jhanden bet defensively, letting the doctor take all the risks. And indeed he did. He had been watching the doctor’s game deteriorate for the last few days, his judgement steadily declining until he was losing most games instead of winning them. His poker face was sloppy from fatigue, and Wilki was able to wheedle his bluffs out of him with ease.

That, and he rigged a couple of shuffles. He didn’t want to cheat him, but in the long run he was doing the doctor a favour. So he told himself, anyway.

“Okay,” he said as he handed Wilki the last of his chips, “a deal is a deal, though this is a gross violation of everything I’ve been taught. Come on, I’d rather do this in my quarters.”

***

The doctor’s quarters were much like Wilki’s own, except he had far more luggage. He recognised none of the equipment, but he could imagine their purpose. Diagnostic machines, protein synthesisers, field containment devices… and sure enough, an all-environment suit as hanging in the corner. He had met doctors before, and they never went anywhere without a portable laboratory.

“I suppose we begin with introductions,” he said, relaxing now they were alone. “My name is Doctor Gary Winters, and I am a doctor of xenomedicine as you were able to deduce. In our field, we are supposed to be experts of all things living, but in practice we tend to specialise. My specialty is crystal-based life forms, especially a particular species found just beyond the rim of the Human Domain.”

Wilki introduced himself. “And what do these people call themselves?”

“Nothing, oddly enough. They don’t seem to have a name for their own species. But we have come to calling them ‘teals’, since the biggest difference between some of these species is in their colour.

“There is a teal on board the ship. I encountered her on a small moon where I was doing some research, and the Colon Bracket was the first vessel of any kind to come by for months. She was sick, at least I think she was, and so I took the chance and bought passage for the two of us.

“Now, please understand that I have treated teals before. I was beginning to think of myself as resembling something of an expert in the field. But I can’t even be certain she is sick, let alone how to treat it.”

Wilki nodded. “Tell me about her. Does she have a name?”

“Me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Me, her name is Me. Well, all teals call themselves that. They don’t name themselves, just as they haven’t named their species, so their names are all translated as ‘Me’. I honestly think they don’t understand the question when we ask them their name.”

It was an effort to suppress a grin. With a little initiative, he had found novelty after all. “I see. Please go on.”

“Well, like I said, I’m not even certain that Me is sick,” Dr Winters explained, looking distressed, “and yet, if she is, her condition is worsening. There’s a standard treatment that teals use to treat a manner of illnesses, and it has always worked for me in the past. It is simple enough, it involves… well, I suppose you need to see what a teal looks like.”

He turned to one of his suitcases, rummaging through his handwritten notes. Passenger ships of this type and their passengers tended to be fairly rustic. The availability of any technology that wasn’t easily assembled and transported declined sharply as you moved further out from Earth, and the fact was the contents of this room were probably more advanced than anything for half a lightyear, with the exception of the hyperdrive. And thus lost arts like taking notes and sketching had flourished among the most far flung of Earth’s descendents.

In no time at all, Wilki found himself looking at a series of detailed sketches of an amorphous crystal. No, make that five amorphous crystals merged together, he could see the seams between them labelled clearly enough. Each… subcrystal, as the notes were calling them, seemed to be comprised of the same set of internal regions, which no doubt had the functionality of organs.

“In a teal, each subcrystal may have a unique shape, but they also retain all the physiology of every other subcrystal. The only difference is size - over the course of a teal’s life, one subcrystal will always be larger than the others, though which subcrystal is dominant alternates. It is fascinating biology, with a high level of redundancy. In Me’s case, each organ has no less than four backup copies.

“When I met Me, she was complaining of… well, not pain as we would call it, but great discomfort. She pleaded with me for treatment, which we discussed at length, but we settled on the treatment I always used on a teal.”

“Which is?” Wilki asked, his sense of curiosity well and truly aroused.

Gary paused. “The traditional treatment is to bathe the smallest subcrystal in a nutrient bath. The smallest one is likely to be the least damaged, and so makes a good candidate. After exposure to a concentrated nutrient bath applied selectively at the smallest subcrystal, it grows to replace the previous dominant subcrystal, replacing whatever the problem was with fresh, healthy components.”

“Fascinating, Wilki said, scratching his chin. “It would rarely matter what the problem is, but that would cure it. It seems a little heavy handed, though - a full body organ transplant to treat a stomach bug.”

“And yet,” Dr Winters replied, “that is the way they do it. I have never known it to fail before, and yet in Me’s case… well, I’m getting ahead of myself. Me and I agreed that we would do the nutrient bath treatment, but as soon as I approached her she started to... panic. She begged me not to give it to her.”

“I see,” Jhanden said. “That is interesting. What did you do?”

“Well, I acknowledged her wishes, though I did find it strange. But the next day, her discomfort was worse. Just as humans can appear off-colour, so can teals, and I was certain that her condition was worsening. Soon, she was asking me for the selective nutrient bath treatment. But again, as I approached her, she begged me to stop.”

Wilki nodded, holding up his hand to silence the doctor. For a good half minute, he said nothing. “Well, I find that… perplexing. Sometimes they are called ‘alien’ for a reason. What did you do next?”

Dr Winters looked uncomfortable. “Well, again I respected her wishes, but the next day she was even worse, and asking me for a nutrient bath. So for the third time I approached her, and for the third time she refused me. But she was looking very ill, you see, and I’d grown quite fond of her…” He trailed off, but not before his voice broke a little. “I’m not proud of myself Wilki, you must understand that, but I had no choice. I forced the nutrient bath on her, soaking her smallest subcrystal in the solution for an hour as is the standard operating procedure.

“At first I regretted it immediately. She was in the teal equivalent of in tears for the first twenty minutes or so, which was not a pleasant thing to witness, but after that she settled down. By the time the treatment was over, she seemed a little shaky, but was otherwise in good spirits.”

“No discomfort?”

Gary shook his head. “No. She was far more silent that she was previously, but then the regrowth procedure can take it out of them. Odd as I found her behaviour before the treatment, I was happy to call this case closed.

“But a few days later, she started complaining of the same type of discomfort. The nutrient bath had done wonders for her, as expected, but it was just temporary. I tried a few other remedies I had picked up, but they were really for other crystal species. Meanwhile her colour continued to fade, and I realised I only had one option. I had to apply the nutrient bath again.”

“This second bath,” Jhanden interrupted, “was, I take it, applied to the smallest subcrystal again?”

He nodded. “Yes. This was a third subcrystal, as the original dominant one had not yet shrunken to its smallest size.”

“I see. Go on, doctor.”

He cleared his throat. “So again I applied the nutrient bath as directed, but again it was against her protests. I felt awful, having committed this breach of trust not once, but twice. But it genuinely seemed to work. Again, she was howling for a few minutes but afterwards, she was back to her own happy, healthy self. She was as talkative as ever, and I really thought this second regrowth had done the trick.”

“It hadn’t?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Complaining of discomfort as she was, I realised that my earlier opinion that I was an expert on these creatures was nonsense. I had one trick up my sleeve, and it wasn’t working. I tried to think of something else, but she was asking for the regrowth treatment again, and I couldn’t think of any alternative.”

At this stage, the doctor seemed to lose his words. He began rubbing his wrists, the confusion and misery evident on his exhausted face. “That was one of the worst moments of my career, Wilki,” he explained. “Not only did I feel helpless as my friend was growing ill, but I couldn’t bare the thought of going through the regrowth treatment again. She asked for it, yet had fought and screamed each time I tried it.” He sighed. “It turns out, I need not have worried. I applied the nutrient bath to the smallest subcrystal, the fourth one now, and she accepted it eagerly.”

Wilki clapped his hands. “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

“No,” Gary replied, “because even though she has a new subcrystal, this last one doesn’t seemed to have helped, not even for a short while. Her discolouration was barely affected by the treatment, and I am at my wit’s end.”

Wilki waited for the doctor to compose himself. “So, each time she has requested the nutrient bath. But some of the time, she has changed her mind last minute. In those cases, it caused her pain, but alleviated the symptoms. The other time, it caused her no discomfort, but did nothing. Is that a fair summary?”

The doctor nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Do you remember which subcrystal was dominant second?” he asked. “Could you point it out on Me?”

“I don’t think so,” Gary replied.

“In that case, I am going to need some nutrient bath, and your permission to cause some further discomfort to your dear friend.”

***

Wilki entered Me’s quarters with buckets of nutrient bath in each hand, wearing a suit he borrowed off the crew. The temperature was a tolerable 292 Kelvin, but the atmosphere composed of some mix of carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide and methane left a lot to be desired.

At the centre of the room was an irregular mass of crystal he recognised from the sketches. It seemed to be pulsing with energy and intelligence, yet at the same time was a sickly shade of green. Teal was not the first colour that came to mind when looking at her. Dr Winters looked on wistfully, holding yet more nutrient bath.

“Hello,” he said, “have we met before?”

The room filled with a chime mixed with a low sigh, before the translator kicked in. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“My name is Wilki Jhanden. What’s yours?”

“I am Me.”

Wilki smiled. “That is the smartest answer to that question I have ever heard. Listen, Dr Winters thinks you are sick, and I think I can help you. But in helping you, it might cause some discomfort. But this will be temporary, and afterwards you will feel better. Is that okay.”

“I understand, wikkizandan. Please help me.”

“I will,” he promised, amused by the translator’s attempt to turn his name into the language of teals and back again. “Remember what I said, doctor, we need to keep track of which subcrystals we treat.”

The doctor nodded, applying the nutrient bath to the smallest subcrystal. It grew, and Me sat in silence. After an hour, Wilki addressed it.

“Hello,” he said again, “have we met before?”

“Yes,” Me replied, “you are wikkizandan. You are trying to help me.”

“I am, and I am making progress. Doctor, if you please.”

Again he applied the nutrient bath to the smallest subcrystal. The translators flared into life, conveying a harsh screaming that rose and fell sharply and cyclically. Like a geometric pattern, Wilki thought to himself. He turned the translator off and advised the doctor to do the same. Untranslated, the cry sounded pure and haunting, a single beautiful note that conveyed undiluted sadness. But it passed soon enough.

“Hello,” Wilki asked once the hour as up, “have we met before?”

“No, we have not. You are unfamiliar to me.”

Wilki let out a whoop. “I knew it, I knew it! There’s your diagnosis, doc!”

“What?” he exclaimed. “I don’t understand, why doesn’t Me recognise you?”

“Because that isn’t Me, not the Me you know and love, anyway. Don’t you see it, doctor? That subcrystal is not part of her, it is actually a parasite.”

The doctor started stammering, asking if he was certain. “Allow me to explain my reasoning, and you can draw your own conclusions. You are, after all, the expert.

“When you found Me she was sick all right, because one of her subcrystals, the smallest, was parasitic. Being sick, she wanted the nutrient bath applied to her smallest subcrystal, but you, understandably, thought to apply it to the smallest one you found, the parasite. This was why she was asking for the treatment one minute then begging you to stop. You were dealing with an issue across a species barrier, and had no idea she was asking for something very different for what you were offering.

“Through no fault of your own, you applied the treatment to the parasite, which only made things worse. It must have been difficult for her, as the parasite took over the host. You said it yourself that after the first treatment, she was far quieter than before. That’s because she was, at that stage, a different person.

“A second application of the treatment would have been no less painful, since the original host was now asserting herself over the parasite much in the same way the parasite and done to the host. And then the third treatment would have been host growing into host, which was the normal procedure and so painless, but it didn’t remove the parasite, and so didn’t alleviate the symptoms.

“I noticed it was odd that the growth of the second subcrystal would be painful in a procedure that should be painless, and that the replacement of the second crystal was too, but the growth of the fourth was not. That told me the second crystal was the odd one out, backed up by your comments about the third subcrystal being talkative like the original, but not the second.

“I was hoping that you would have noted which subcrystal was the second, but we were able to identify the odd one out, the one that didn’t recognise me mere hours after meeting me. The dominant subcrystal is the parasite. It can be nothing else.”

The doctor burst into cheerful sobs at this. “My goodness, that is brilliant! I don’t know how you saw that as an amateur in the field of xenomedicine, but let me tell you, you have done more to advance the field in a few hours than I have in my whole career!” He leapt into the air, a rare lack of professionalism for someone wearing a suit. It as hard to forget that you were wearing one, and that things could go wrong very easily inside one.

“I suggest you calm down, doctor, and give Me the treatment,” he told him. “It will be painful, but this is the last time.”

Wilki made his excuses and left. The doctor was jubilant, but for him the mystery was resolved, the chase was over, and without the thrill of deduction to keep him focused he doubted he could listen to a teal’s cry again.