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Chapter 7 by Manbear Manbear

What does Dr. Baxter decide to do?

An apology arrives from Dr. Miller

Dear Sir Williard,

A note has arrived late this evening from Dr. Miller apologizing for his abrupt manner this afternoon. I have attached the original missive to this account so you can see for yourself Dr. Miller’s views on the matter.

Dear Dr. Baxter,
Please accept this note as an acknowledgement of my lack of discretion at today’s luncheon. I forget how different this way of life that we have forged on Rajah seems to the Earthers who first step onto into our small piece of paradise. I have two quick points to make that it would be well for you to hear.

The Blush will hit you soon enough, if has not already overthrown your well-developed sense of propriety. It is hardest for the young, especially men and women around the age of twenty and particularly hard on those who fight the impulses they feel. When it does take hold of your passions, as one medical man to another I urge you to ‘go with the flow’ as those arrogant Yankees are so fond of saying. Trust me when I tell you that many other colonist have fought The Blush, and not one of them has won; some have gone mad and others have ‘snapped’ and all of their repressed urges are manifested at once. More than a dozen cases of rapine, **** and even **** have been attributed to this phenomenon, I know you have little respect for me at this time but consider yourself forewarned.

The second matter is a reminder of the job offer I have extended. The East Orion Trading company does not allow competition amongst its employees. There may well be some positions open in the Soma mines, but trust me when I tell you that you would not like the conditions in the outlying areas. The mines are worked by the lowest dregs of our Empire, worse even than the old penal colonies of Australia and South Africa, if your sense of morality is challenged here in New India it would be shattered by even a single year pushing lithium and opiates on the wretched drudges that dig the Soma we all value so dearly. Having made clear the lack of alternatives, let me offer an olive branch of sorts. I do need a man like you to assist me in my practice; I can use Gangesh for many of the basic needs but there are only a tiny fraction of colonials who will accept being treated by a Hindustani. Come work for me for a month on a provisional basis. If at the end of the month you cannot see the service that my practice provides the families of New India I will use my influence to find you a position on Rajah that does not put you in a morally untenable position.

_Your humble servant,_Bernard Miller


This note I should add was delivered to my room by none other than Saminya, still dressed in her nurse's uniform, but because of the late hour, or perhaps in a belated attempt at modesty she had covered the uniform with an embroidered wrap of deep-blue silk that covered her hair and draped over her slender shoulders falling nearly to her ankles. She stood meekly by the door as I read the note from Dr. Miller not moving a muscle but I was none-the-less very conscious of her presence. When I finished reading I refolded the thick locally produced paper and nodded curtly to her. It was not much of an apology from Dr. Miller, but I was slightly encouraged by his conciliatory tone. It also perhaps explained why I had behaved in such an uncharacteristic way last night with Miss Peach.

“Thank Dr. Miller for his note for me, you may tell him I will make my decision by tomorrow afternoon.” I told her by way of dismissal, but the young woman did not take the hint. I now noticed that Saminya had taken some time preparing for this visit; in addition covering herself with the blue silk wrap her lips had been reddened, her almond shaped eyes darkened and shaped with subtle strokes of makeup and she had taken the time to paste a small ruby set in gold over the modest umber bindi on her forehead. I do not believe I am a vindictive man Sir Williard, but neither do I care to be toyed with; I was irritated by Saminya’s presence and Dr. Miller’s lack of sensitivity in sending her of all people to deliver his note.

“You may go now.” I told her sternly, eager to see her as far from me as possible. Still she did not move although I thought I saw a slight quiver of her shoulders. I had had about enough of her little games and opened the door to my room and gave her a little push to send her on her way. To my surprise the girl fell to her knees and presses her cheek to my feet. She begged me not to send her away, telling me that Dr. Miller forbade her to return until the morning. These are, as best I can recollect, her words of explanation as she clung to my calves and explained to me what that thrice-damned Dr. Miller told her.

“Please Sir, the Doctor said that I had greatly displeased you this morning and that if I was unable to earn your forgiveness that I would have to take my chances on the streets tonight.” Sir Williard, just when I believed there may be some redeeming quality to Dr. Miller, I find him manipulating me in this most obvious manner. He knew I could not in good conscious send this defenseless maid out into the streets. I sent the young woman to curl up in my arm chair and I took the time to write this note while the details are fresh in my mind and as a way of taming the thoughts that are aroused in me whenever I allow myself to think of Saminya. It is no use, I cannot stay in this room with that winsome nymph and neither can I send her out to spend the night on the streets. I will have to go down to the office and use a large fraction of my remaining funds to arrange for accommodations for my uninvited and most unwelcome guest.

Does our well-meaning doctor find accommodations for his uninvited guest?

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