LOST AND FOUND (second half)

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  "My God, the traitors cheered the arriving British. Their commander seeks me out. At a meeting in my office, he declines schnapps brusquely. As Catholic to Catholic, he asks what happened to the Jews in my city. I tell him how my soul was lacerated by confessions from the perpetrators of sufferings on those unfortunates. I ask him to pray with me for the families sundered, for the maidens violated, for the Rabbis ridiculed, for the innocents denied opportunity to accept the Christ ...."

  For fifteen years after the war, Father Hans observes what happens around him. Shunning all other causes, he participates only in activities that increase his stature. Politicians and monsignors (usually unaware of his motives) reward him with perks.

  "I have been appointed chairman of another committee. This one plans a memorial in Berlin. A testimonial to those responsible for our defeat appalls me. How can we proceed without destroying respect for our glory?

  "Of course, I discern a politic decision; I guide the committee toward a consensus. Nevertheless, it eludes us, so we retrench to try again. I'm next in line for Bishop ‒ I have my duty ‒ if only my sixty-eight-year-old heart holds out. God's will be done....

  "Holy Mary, how pleasure abandons the aged! If it weren’t for flavorful food, well. I say grace over one of Mrs. Zimmer's repasts. Does she try to eliminate me with grease? Sometimes, I believe she is a closet Jew. God! They scheme still.

  "The sausage is excellent. I accompany it with German red. Benefits the heart, my doctor says. I will not imbibe French, sometimes, Chianti. I press the glass once more to my lips, recollecting Germany’s victories. Oh, how we did obliterate."

  The priest’s smile gives way to a belch, which changes to surprise as a weight slams into his chest. Pain infuses him. He stares at his unfeeling hands. His glass drops in slow motion. He falls forward off his chair onto the rug, his yell for help just a whisper, "A priest, Unction. Oh, the injustice after all my devotion. Mother of God, Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy!"

  Yana rockets out of the priest’s aura. Violently, her reactions shoot off before those of her ride. Her controller at Expando’s Central Collection Library, displeased when her reactions arrive ahead of the priest’s impressions, sheathes and unsheathes his claws.

  Troubleshooting steps in and disengages Yana from turmoil, making her fit for service again. She spins on her orientation to generate the momentum needed for the time and place of her next ride.

   On Expando, her body twists then skips a breath.

 

  Before ready, she jumps to Baden, Germany, 1942, to an infant about to undergo christening. Yana relaxes in the aura. The boy reaches eleven years before his parents give up on him. They have tired of his awkwardly running around.

  "Mother is pretty. Father is stern, and my name is Rolf. Father will take me to the zoo when I spell my last name. 'Father,' I say, 'Loeffelzimmer’ is spelled L ‒ O ‒ F ‒ E ‒ L ‒ S ‒ I ‒ M ‒ E ‒ R, but he says that's wrong."

  "Mother puts me to bed with Bun, my toy rabbit. I love Bun and will never leave him. After mother goes, we sneak to the stairs to listen to her and father. They talk about me a lot when they believe I'm asleep. When they say, ‘Rolf,’ I listen hard. They say 'mentallyretarded' sometimes. What a big word.

  "Father tells mother she must go to the headmaster about the letter. They will close the school. I don't care. I don't like that place anyway. They spank me.

  "In the morning, mother dresses me fancy. We walk. I like the birds. A squirrel runs around a tree. When I start to chase him, mother yanks me back. At the school, we go in through the door with monsters on it. We wait for the headmaster. He comes just as I fall asleep. Mother wakes me, and we go into his office.

  "The headmaster has a glass eye. I don’t like his bushy mustache. He calls mother, 'My Dear'. Not a nice man. But, he gives her his handkerchief when she starts to cry. The letters of ‘handkerchief’ make a big word. I whisper it to myself a few times then say, 'Mother, a handkerchief is for crying and for blowing your nose'. I was proud to say this in front of the headmaster. Mother stands up and gives him back his kerchief. We leave so fast that I stumble over my shoelaces.

  "That night I crawl to the stairs. Bun tries to hop down them. 'No, Bun, mother and father will find us. Shush'. I pull him back. Mother cries. Father is talking to her. He says they will go to the doctor as the headmaster had said. Sounds good to me. Maybe mother ails. Doctors make you well.

  "Father and mother go to the doctor without me. When they come back, mother sobs as they stumble through the door. What a crybaby. She probably only fell and bumped her knee.

  "That night, at the top of the stairs, I listen hard, but mother and father speak softly. Probably, father strokes her back. That's what you do with a crybaby. I fall asleep right there, but in the morning, I wake up in my bed.

  "That day father teaches me two new words, 'treatment' and 'hospital'. He tells me I have a disease ‒ mentallyretarded ‒ but not to worry. The doctors will make me smarter. That's how I learn that 'mentallyretarded' means not smart. I say, 'Father, I'm getting smarter already even before the hospital'.

  "Still, father takes me there. Mother stays home. Before father and I leave, she hugs me so hard I can't breathe. When we get to the hospital, I ask father, 'Why do policemen stand around here?'

  "He says, 'They make sure the hospital stays safe for children'. Father signs papers for the doctor. Then he kisses me on the cheek. His voice sounds like he has a cough.

  "After father leaves the hospital, doctor takes me to nurse. Nurse makes me eat two pieces of bitter candy. I go to sleep really fast. Bun dances...

  "I am awake now, but I can't move. I'm tied to the bed. Tubes and wires stick on to me. I yell for mother. Nurse shows up and says, 'Shut up, stupid'. I understand 'stupid', but not 'shut up’. Then, doctor comes in and says something to nurse. I ask her why doctor doesn’t talk to me too. She says that he has observed me and has made lots of notes.

  "The next morning my pee pee hurts. A tube comes out of the bandage down there and other places too. Nurse feeds me only a little fruit. Cloth and tape cover my head. The cross has disappeared from around my neck.

  "Nurse says that I am helping doctors learn more about brains. Imagine that, Rolf helping doctors. After doctor makes me smart, I will become a doctor too and make other kids smart.

  "Nurse makes me eat more bitter candy. Maybe they’re smart pills. She puts me on a bed with wheels, and we go to another room. I am excited. This must be the room where they will make me smart.

  "So many machines. Nurse puts me on another bed and straps me in. She gives me a haircut. I wonder if my curls have gone. I laugh at how funny to get a haircut in bed. Wait till I tell Mother. She will laugh too.

  "Doctor comes in, and he and nurse plug the wires into some machine. I wish I could primp in a mirror. Nurse puts slick stuff on my head, then clamps something there.

  "I hope Bun will still like me when I am smart."

  The doctor sets the dials on one of the machines, then flicks a switch. Rolf shrinks into a ball. His body tries to fly up from the bed, but the straps keep it down. The pain stops. The doctor mutters, “Hmmm,” then makes a note in Rolf’s chart.

  Rolf wonders why the man in the white coat turns knobs on that machine. He screams, "Rolf makes a good boy. He understands some big words already." The doctor smiles and shakes his head, while nurse stifles her laughter. She grins at the doctor as, once again, he twists the dials.

  Bun disintegrates. On Expando, in her vat, Yana’s heart stops.

  She diffuses out of the aura and oozes away from the contorted body. The doctor writes in Rolf’s chart: "Subject: Eleven-year-old male. Mental defective. Final increase: 50 volts. Subject expired 14:32:48. Result consistent with hypothesis." 

  Yana flees, zigzagging blind, trying escape a shame whose source she has already forgotten. She reaches the warp alloyed with the pain of the boy. She blanks out for 0.00036 cycles. Even though a sub-program has relieved her of this experience, she can’t shake her sorrow.

  Central Collections tags Yana for observation. A librarian rushes to her body. She takes the readings. No agitation. Yana’s body has ceased to function.

  Troubleshooting traces the fault to charge holding the sorrow in place. The field generated by the electro-convulsive machine has fused fifteen of Yana’s bins. A contingency sub-program unfuses the compartments, then forwards the remaining data to the library.

The event dissipates, but Yana must talk with someone about it, and the only person on this adulteration to notice her is Beve. She sends her a query, “What remains after sorrow leaves?”

  Beve pops in her lowers, then, grinning, vindicates herself for all her years talking to spirits. She answers, “When sorrow leaves, you still miss what you lost.”

 

  Ragl 31 Zanco, Senior Research Librarian at The Historical Society's Central Collection Library, chats up Xanaha over the sensophone. Recently mated, they submit to the afterglow that still clothes them. Ragl recalls her odors avidly. Probably, she swishes her tail even now; the idea of it drives him wild. He exposes a fang and shoots out his claws as he imagines her flanks quivering. Tonight, they will eat the best meats and make plans. Now adopted into her pride, he has cemented his future.

  After they growl good-bye, Ragl notices the lagging information from galaxy 1,381,747. Casting aside ideas of mating, he determines Yana 6 Lan's remaining difficulty: angular displacement, 19.5885 degrees, 0.782 millicycles too early. Even after troubleshooting, Lan’s attitude pushes her away from her orientation point. He studies the investigation report recently filed and adds his conclusions: "Mapper has another source of direction, someone on the planet."

  Ragl commands his bio-sphere to indicate reason mapper accepts other input. The sphere responds: “Cause ‒ Lan has violated code section 302 by creating energy mass in her sector. Probability ‒ 86.271 %. Sector forces have compensated by displacing the mapper. Code violation ‒ Major. Recommendation, abort mission. Recall mapper for discipline and retraining. She will need to undergo isolation pending a body to focus her.”

  The librarian turns up the flow from his sustenance generator, then begins Lan's return checklist: “Send erase command. Issue recall. Re-install memories. Follow with reorientation-thought module and coordinates.”

  Ragl programs the thought gun. The first 3 items fire off, but the reorientation-thought module and coordinates jam. “Damn technicians,” Ragl spews as he activates an alternate pathway. A fraction of a millicycle later, the remaining order speeds away.

  Yana imagines what next to say to Beve, but then the orders from Central Collection arrive. Recall makes her gloomy, but the flood of memories that follow raises her hopes. She cannot wait to imbibe her own sensations again instead of those of her rides. She wants to stride, to nuzzle and rake Yenig.

  The recall order activates grave ruminations: She will not elevate. Yenig will not join her pride. They will not mate. Deep in despair, caught in this stasis, she loses her pinning. She realizes that lacking reorientation coordinates she will never escape the pull of this planet. Now she understands something of what the Lost must have endured.

  Then, questions streak up from the planet beneath: “Would The Lost be lost if they did not so consider? Would they be gone if they remembered? Would they be missed forever?”

  Yana does not understand. Her focus limits. She shan't find her way back to Expando. Foundering in this backwater, she gives in to a broader perspective. She falls from her bubble through the warp just before the reorientation module from Central Collection arrives. Finding no terminus, the module returns to Expando.

 

  Chief Inspector Signaf hurries on important business. He might miss his grooming appointment because of that damn male who harangues him about the overdue mapper. His puce fur lies in tangles. Normally, it would not matter. Grooming today, grooming tomorrow, who cares? Today though, he must report progress to the Council of Philosophers. Some of the lady philosophers might appreciate a courtly mane. He needs an edge. So far, results from the Mapping Division appear dismal.

  While he cogitates, Ragl 31 Zanco's chronology and the returned module arrive at Central Planning. Although Signaf examines all mapping-mission information, most reports reach him as summaries. Pressed for time, he scans even that conciseness. Several moments pass before he has absorbed the 2,500 observation summaries in the string.

  He turns to the deviant reports. What will he find? Some days, no reports show up; today however, seven queue. Nonconformist mappers not only have violated the strictures of code and observation, often they have rebelled against them. Sometimes though, mavericks provide surprises.

  This Lan, for instance. Yes, she has fomented a mess. She has failed, but something lies hidden under that distant sun. He orders a seek-and-attach tracer sent to the planet.

 

  Outside a dive, drunks leer at the girl as she walks by through neon glow. They lust even though she dresses in overalls. Ignoring them, the girl hurries toward her dreary room for a shower and bed. As she goes, she hums a tune of her native land.

  A nervous, but determined, youth awaits her approach. He drains the last of the whiskey and crouches, hidden against the alley wall. Light from the window above illuminates his shaved head. He stifles his breath as the bitch reaches the alley.

  He and his fellow punks had cased the girl's route for days. As he waits, anticipation nearly blows his top. She combined with his lust, alcohol and drugs can only result in one behavior. She begins to pass. He hisses, "Slut."

  She jerks toward the sound. A hairless animal in jeans and t-shirt rushes toward her. First, amazed, then terrified, she tries to flee. He is upon her before she can take a stride. He drives his fist into her mouth. She falls onto her buttocks. Trembling with pleasure, the freak raises his foot to kick her.

  Another voice rasps from the darkness, "Hey, man, keep her alive until we get off on her."

  The freak pulls her into the alley to his four friends, high on ludes and booze. They brutalize her behind a garbage bin. As the last backs off, he says to the half-conscious girl, "Foreign scum. Get out of our country. You don't belong here."

  She struggles to rise, but her urge to survive infuriates them the more. They beat her, knife her then, swearing and laughing, disappear up the alley.

  A streak of blood marks her path. Every movement pains her, yet the girl manages to crawl to the street. Tut tutting disapproval, passersby ignore so obvious a whore. But, a young man tells his buddies he must phone home. Hiding his kindness, he calls for an ambulance.

  A wail distracts Yana 6 Lan from her deprecations. From a hundred paws above, she flinches as an ambulance screeches to a stop by the victim.

  The girl dies before the paramedics can resuscitate her. She has simply left her body without gifting the dead’s courtesies. Shocked at such irresponsibility, Yana forsakes all compliance as she hovers above the corpse.

  She pins her memories to the planet, and instead of a loping body with 12-centimeter claws and 8 tits within golden fur, she chooses another guise.

  Expando and her corpse in the vat evaporate. No longer does she visualize running with grace. Her mother and father, her friends, her betrothed vacate remembrance. Yet, she has gifted them her finalities. Her flux gains a new vibration. Groaning, she watches the drama below.

  Her aura explodes into a thousand stars, jerking her out of her mind. She stares at the body beneath her, wavers for a second then, making a break for life, streaks into the alien. Takes control of the circuits. Jump starts the heart. Pumps up the lungs. Courses her new Balkan blood. For certain, this will prove more than a ride.

  She slits open her eyes and screams. The Rhine flows newly under its moon.

  In the Bronx, Beve wrinkles her nose and grins. “Welcome,” she says to the air.

  The paramedics rush the blood-splattered girl to the hospital. Released a week later, she resumes her life. Gradually, the new operator grows accustomed to the alien body, its memories, emotions and habits. The ability to speak returns much to the relief of her friends. The doctors say the effects of the concussion will abate with time.

  Two weeks later, the foreman fires her from her job at an assembly plant. "No fault with your work, Sofia," he consoles her. The next day, officials from the Ministry deport her for corrupting tradition.

 

  Sofia studies the Bosnian social worker sitting across the table. A wilted plant struggles to survive in the parch to the left of his desk. The man creases his lips, "You assembled electronics in Germany. Here, even men have trouble finding that kind of job. Perhaps, I can get you work washing clothes." With a flip of his left hand, he bends to click ‘placed’ in her compufile.

  Sofia growls.

  The social worker revolves his head as if summoned. For a second, he forgets whom he has in his office. A woman stands near the door clenching and unclenching her fingers. Does he imagine things, or does her hair shoot up like that on an angry cat? He shrinks back in his chair.

  Her eyes gleaming, Sofia snarls, "I will be a teacher of history, that's what."

  The man mumbles, "A teacher of history? Don’t joke. You have no qualifications. Here: a slip for a family needing a laundress."

Sophia swipes the paper and shreds it. Then, she says, “Beve will help me,” and springs through the door.

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  The next story will post on or about 1 Feb. 2026

  To get the book Eve Valor: click here.

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