New Pepper Tree

Two drinks and a cascade of meaningless comments later, Meredith felt light-headed.

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June 4, 2233 Moon high, wind still

Two drinks and a cascade of meaningless comments later, Meredith felt light-headed. She drifted away from Tamesha and Rafael, who remained blissfully unaware. The vegan table beckoned, and her eyes settled on a black-bean canap As she reached for it, her senses wavered, and she stumbled.

A server appeared at her side. His loose sleeve slid up as he steadied her, revealing a splotchy, angry rash.

Her medical instincts kicked in. "What's that?" she asked, concern sharpening her tone.

Liam tugged his cuff down, trying to hide the blotches. "Nothing," he muttered, but his discomfort betrayed him.

"It's not nothing," she said. "How much does it itch?"

"Some," Liam admitted, glancing around. "But don't tell anyone. I can't afford to lose this job."

Her hand hovered near Liam's wrist, her breath catching.

She'd seen this before--not the rash, but the silence. The fear of losing work, losing place, losing everything. Her mother had died in Tallahassee, years ago, when a migrating parasite bloomed in the wetlands. Maximo had insisted they stay--Plastix's new highland factory needed oversight. The doctors were overwhelmed. Her mother's fever burned through the night while Maximo reviewed supply chains.

She had been twelve. She'd held a damp cloth to her mother's brow and whispered promises she couldn't keep.

Meredith nodded, her voice low but firm. "I won't. But it needs treatment. Otherwise, it'll spread." She squinted at his name tag. "Liam, have you been around any three-leaved plants?"

His eyes darted. "No. It's from the new pepper trees. Damn berries. Itches like hell."

"Get that looked at," she urged. "Ignoring it won't help."

Lam hesitated. "Where?"

"Don't you have a doctor?"

He shook his head. "No. We've got a clinic, but they've got bigger problems than mine."

Before she could respond, a crisp voice cut through the evening air. "Doctor, if you wouldn't mind stepping aside so others can be served?" Helene Emerson approached the table, her heels clicking smartly against the flagstones. "The governor's in the mood for apple nachos."

She turned slightly, offering a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just a moment--I'm nearly finished," she said evenly, then leaned toward the server. "Where is this clinic? I could meet you there."

Liam's gaze flicked past her, wary. "The Displaced People's Clinic. Down near Dorsey Landing, by the old ferry terminal."

"I'll see you there. Tomorrow. Noon," she said, her voice low but firm, the promise sealed with a nod.

She stepped away, balancing her plate as she passed the aide, who muttered under her breath, "Privileged nobody."

That night, Meredith lay awake replaying Liam's words, the rash on his arm, the quiet desperation in his voice. The party's glitter had faded, but its echoes lingered--polished smiles, veiled barbs, and the quiet vow she'd made beneath the moonlight.

By morning, her resolve had crystallized. She packed her medical bag, messaged Tamesha, and confirmed the route. If the system wouldn't serve those ailing, she would.