I stood for a while in my quarantine bay, gazing at the spirit world. Ever-changing but always beautiful, the alternate universe evolved in real time. Rivers flowed, composed of music. Dancers wove among pulsing bells of memory. Travelers flashed by like gentle bolts of summer lightning. A choir sang something that, if you 'listened' along one of many perception-pathways, sounded Mozartlike. But the choir members were dots of light that twinkled in a vast firmament and sang in waves of photonic scintillation. I could appreciate its grandeur, but I think I missed its subtleties.

I have recovered from the virus, now, as I write. I don't see these visions anymore. And sometimes the aching emptiness when I try to look but do not see, that blankness which once was so vividly alive, the bright abyss that once leapt and frolicked ... well, I miss it. Believe me, I've shed many a lonely tear as my heart aches for another glimpse.

Rapt, transfixed, I stood in the center of the quarantine bay like a wild-eyed madman. My paper pants sagged, and wrinkles twisted the paper shirt.

The intercom crackled. "Rik?" Trixie's voice sounded unsteady, and I snapped my head around. She looked a little wild, too, and her eyes seemed to fill her eyeglasses.

I jogged over and flipped on the intercom switch. "What's up, Trix?"

"Rik, I ... I'm seeing things."

A pang clutched at my stomach and my mouth dried. Her, too? "Are you? Is it ... kind of wonderful?"

Her lips curved upward, then fell. "Well, yeah, but ... I'm scared."

I could see her with my eyes and with my other eyes. She was like a pale wraith in the spirit world; barely there. "I think it's all right. I've been seeing things all night."

Her eyes searched mine. She looked so fragile, I just wanted to comfort her. I couldn't reach her through the glass, but ... I reached out my arms in the other reality, and gathered her in. I said, "It's completely crazy, but I think you'll get used to it fast."

"Whoa. Weird. You're freaking hugging me, bro."

"I'd like to know what happens when you ..." I swallowed. "If you close the curtains, turn off the intercom, and call for Dad. Or Mom."

Her facial expression mixed horror with outrage and a little tendril of yearning. "That's crazy."

"I know. Completely. Gonzo. Bonkers. Certified."

She pursed her lips at me. I knew that expression. It was the "challenge accepted" expression. She stabbed at the intercom switch, then twitched her curtains shut.

I smirked, then decided it might be nice to have fresh pajamas. In the rear of the bay, the hospital had tucked a closed-system sink, a toilet, and a few necessary supplies. When I emerged, Trixie's curtains were still closed, but my other eyes could see a nearby triple-tornado, lit up in oranges and pinks and singing songs as it whirled. A grin spread across my face and stayed there.

A little later, I saw light on the other side of the bay. I drew back my curtains to find a sour-looking Dr. Friel staring back at me. Her eyebrows shot up. "You look good," she said.

I didn't quite know how to answer that. "Oh, hi, Dr. Friel."

"Hi. You're doing a lot better than me, it seems. I feel like I just got no sleep on a stiff bed and there's no shower."

"I'm sorry you had a hard time sleeping," I said. I don't know how I looked, but I felt great.

"I blew the whistle on us all." Her face pinched a shade tarter. "Since I'm the architect of my own misery, I'd better not whine."

"I bet people admire your strong sense of ethics," I said. I don't know where I found those words, exactly. I'm not a great conversationalist, normally. I'm a "yo" and "hey" sort of guy.

But I said it, and she snapped right out of her funk. Her face relaxed. "Well, I can only hope, Mr. Fernandez. By the way, how are you feeling?" She gestured to her table full of gear and the laptop there. "Your chart says your temperature is up."

"I feel fine," I said. It was a white lie. I felt fabulous. I felt like skipping around and singing. While jumping rope.

"You look to be in the pink of health," she said. "I'd never guess you had a fever."

I shrugged. "I might have had a temperature for a while, but I feel good, now. How do you feel, Dr. Friel?"

And that's when I saw her parasite. This one was more green-black than red-black. More of a poisoner than a fearmonger. Its spiderlike spray of legs sunk into her hair as it crawled around, as if looking for choice spots on her skull to inject doses of evil. How could she not know? It was definitely a material world manifestation. She should be able to feel its prickly leg-points digging into her scalp, but she showed no sign of discomfort.

She rubbed her eyes, "Missing some sleep is all. Makes it hard to concentrate. Oh, good, here's breakfast."

Breakfast arrived through the mini-airlocks. I dug into mine. Trixie threw back the curtains and sent me a most dazzling smile. I laughed and waved. She laid a finger to her lips and winked. I laughed more and returned the gesture.

Breakfast tasted brilliant. The light in the room seemed brighter. I made sure my intercom in Dr. Friel's direction was off, then I said, conversationally, "Dad?"

"Mm?" I got the impression that Dad worked at a bench, even down to a dirty apron from which he brushed wood shavings. But at the same time, he was right there with me, despite his lack of body or physical form.

I embraced the paradoxes. I had no choice. "I'm seeing, uh, little monsters. They're attached to people."

"Oh. Well, I'm not great with science and philosophy and stuff." Dad seemed a little sheepish.

"Science? Come on, Dad, what are they?"

"Probably blechth," he spouted a concept that struggled to take shape in my mind. Finally, it settled into something like "lesser personal devil."

"Say, what?" I rubbed my jaw. My chin skin was smooth. I felt it some more. "Jeez, Dad. Where're my whiskers? I haven't shaved in at least a day, probably longer."

Dad's words came slowly. "I don't know. It's the virus you caught, of course. But, Rik." Worry clouded his spirit face.

"Yes?"

"Now, I'm a little worried. Devils are nasty. They know how to cause trouble, and they don't mind killing. Usually, people instantly erase them from their minds. But if they know you can remember them, son, you might become a target."

"Oh? Well, yeah, that could be nasty. The blechth that lived on nurse Robert could've ripped me to shreds."

"You might have a little trouble from that kind, yes. But there are worse kinds. Rik, do you remember Father Brent?"

"What? Sure. The fat priest you used to go bowling with."

"Well, he was into philosophy and science. He might be able to teach you how to protect yourself."

"Eh, all right. I guess. But I'm in quarantine."

"Convince 'em you're healthy." Dad winked, spiritually.

"I heard all that," Trixie said from next door. I looked over, shocked. She waggled her eyebrows up and down and popped a grape into her mouth. "You," she said around her chewing, "have gotten us into deep doo doo, bro."

She didn't seem upset, though.