The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 31: Necessary People
The monitor failed at seven twelve in the morning.
Not mechanically.
That would have been easier.
Daniel was halfway through his first coffee when the small device beneath his shirt vibrated twice.
A soft amber light appeared near his ribs.
Claire looked up from the kitchen counter.
Neris, already outside, stopped beside the cattle gate when the same alert reached her communicator.
ER’s voice came from the speaker.
“Simulation active.”
Daniel lowered the mug.
“You might lead with that.”
“I announced a diagnostic exercise four minutes ago.”
“I thought you meant later.”
“I provided a start time.”
Claire looked at him.
“You ignored it.”
“I acknowledged it.”
“You said ‘yeah.’”
“That’s acknowledgment.”
The monitor vibrated again.
Amber became red.
A warning appeared on Daniel’s phone.
ABNORMAL INFLAMMATORY RESPONSE
Then:
MEDICAL ASSESSMENT ADVISED
Daniel waited.
Nothing else happened.
Claire looked at the screen.
“That’s it?”
ER answered.
“That is the current safe instruction.”
Neris’s voice arrived through the kitchen tablet.
“What simulated pattern?”
“Unknown inflammatory response with concurrent nanite activation outside established recovery parameters.”
Daniel looked at his phone.
“So what do I do?”
“Seek medical assessment.”
“With who?”
“A qualified human medical professional.”
“And tell them what?”
Claire folded her arms.
“That your bloodstream contains technology from another civilization.”
Daniel pointed at her.
“I was hoping for something less memorable.”
Neris had already started back toward the farmhouse.
Her image moved quickly across the yard camera.
ER ended the simulation.
The monitor returned to green.
Daniel looked down at it.
“So it works.”
Claire shook her head.
“No. It detects.”
“That’s working.”
“It detects a problem and tells you to find someone who doesn’t know what the problem is.”
Daniel leaned back.
“It’s still better than nothing.”
“Yes.”
Claire took the chair opposite him.
“But not enough.”
The back door opened.
Cold air entered with Neris.
She removed her gloves before fully closing it.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Daniel said.
“The test happened,” Claire corrected.
Neris crossed to him and checked the monitor display.
Green.
She placed two fingers over the device anyway.
Daniel watched her.
“You know ER made it up.”
“I know.”
“You still ran back.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked between them.
Then at the five-box planning sheet still attached to the refrigerator with one of Daniel’s cattle-feed magnets.
Medical.
Farm.
Emergency.
Family.
Secrecy.
She pointed.
“Medical isn’t solved.”
Daniel sighed.
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“The problem does not improve after breakfast.”
“Most problems improve after breakfast.”
Neris removed her coat.
“This one does not.”
Daniel looked toward the speaker.
“You too?”
“Yes,” ER said.
Daniel lifted his coffee.
“Fine. After breakfast.”
Claire looked at Neris.
“Is that how he always negotiates?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not negotiation,” Daniel said. “It’s sequencing.”
ER replied, “That distinction is generous.”
They ate eggs, toast and the last of Marcel’s bread.
The monitor remained green.
Daniel disliked it more now.
Before the test, it had represented independence.
Something Earthside.
Something that meant he could remain medically stable when ER was gone.
Now it looked like what it was.
A warning system.
Not a doctor.
Neris sat beside him, one leg tucked beneath her chair. Her tail curled around the rear legs and occasionally brushed Daniel’s ankle.
Claire had moved from the kitchen counter to the table with the planning sheet.
She had added another line beneath medical.
Human clinical continuity.
Daniel read it.
“No.”
Claire looked up.
“You haven’t heard the proposal.”
“I can infer.”
Neris’s ears tilted toward him.
Daniel continued.
“No more people.”
“Daniel.”
“Marcel knows. You know. That’s enough.”
Claire placed the pencil down.
“What happens if you collapse after they leave?”
“I call emergency services.”
“And what do you tell the paramedics?”
“That I collapsed.”
“What happens when they take you to hospital?”
Daniel looked toward Neris.
She was quiet.
Claire continued.
“What if they want an MRI?”
ER answered.
“Magnetic resonance imaging is not expected to affect the nanites directly, but certain active diagnostic responses could produce ambiguous readings.”
Claire pointed toward the speaker.
“What if they need surgery?”
“Dependent on procedure.”
“General anaesthesia?”
“Unknown interactions with some nanite metabolic support functions.”
“Blood transfusion?”
“Potential compatibility concerns if nanite activity is high.”
Claire looked at Daniel.
“You need a doctor.”
He looked away.
“I have a doctor.”
“A doctor who thinks you bruised yourself?”
Daniel said nothing.
Claire’s expression softened.
“I’m not saying tell a hospital everything.”
Neris spoke carefully.
“Protected-contact restrictions prohibit unnecessary disclosure.”
“Then ask whether this is necessary.”
“It is,” Claire said.
Daniel looked at Neris.
“Is it?”
Her ears lowered.
“Yes.”
That hurt more than Claire’s argument.
Daniel pushed the plate away.
“How much do they need to know?”
Neris glanced toward the speaker.
ER answered.
“Enough to prevent harmful conventional intervention. Not enough to reproduce or investigate Xianglume technology.”
“So almost nothing.”
“Almost nothing can still be strategically useful.”
Claire tapped the monitor.
“They need to know he has an implanted medical system.”
“It is not implanted in the conventional sense,” Neris said.
Claire stared.
Neris adjusted.
“A persistent internal medical system.”
“Better.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Do we even have someone?”
Claire looked at him.
“You know every veterinarian within fifty kilometres.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Doctor.”
Daniel stared at the table.
There was one.
He did not like how quickly the name arrived.
Dr. Mara Singh had taken over the small regional practice eight years earlier. She split time between the community clinic and hospital work farther south, which meant appointments ran late whenever weather or staffing went wrong.
She had stitched Daniel’s forearm after a sheet-metal cut.
Treated bronchitis.
Insisted he get bloodwork after he ignored a fever for four days.
She had also attended Emily during part of the last year of her illness, when travelling for every appointment became too exhausting.
Mara had never treated Daniel like a widower who needed managing.
Or a farmer who would automatically ignore instructions.
She simply gave him the instructions and told him which consequences were his to own.
Neris watched his face.
“You know someone.”
“Yes.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Dr. Singh.”
“Local?”
“Close enough.”
“Do you trust her?”
Daniel answered automatically.
“Yes.”
Neris did not move.
“Not with the secret,” she said.
Daniel looked at her.
“With your body.”
The kitchen quieted.
Neris’s gaze held his.
“If you are unconscious,” she continued, “this person may someday need to make decisions that affect the nanites, your recovery, or both. Do you trust her with your body?”
Daniel thought about Emily in the clinic room.
Mara explaining medication changes without softening the truth.
Daniel refusing a referral once because harvest was coming.
Mara saying, Then choose whether harvest is worth worsening this, but at least choose with the correct information.
No dramatics.
No power struggle.
Just responsibility.
“Yes,” Daniel said.
Neris nodded once.
“Then she is a candidate.”
They sent the request before nine.
ER formatted it through the protected-contact channel.
Daniel watched the lines appear.
REQUEST: LIMITED MEDICAL DISCLOSURE
PURPOSE: POST-DEPARTURE CONTINUITY OF CARE
LOCAL HUMAN: DANIEL MERCER
PROPOSED RECIPIENT: LICENSED MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL
The response took eighteen minutes.
Daniel expected bureaucracy.
Questions.
A delay.
Instead, the authorization came back stark and immediate.
ADDITIONAL MEDICAL DISCLOSURE PERMITTED IF REQUIRED FOR CONTINUITY OF CARE
MINIMUM NECESSARY INFORMATION ONLY
TRUST ASSESSMENT REQUIRED
Claire read it.
“That was fast.”
Neris’s ears lowered.
“They expected this.”
ER said, “The network has extensive protected-contact contingencies.”
Daniel looked at the message.
“They have a protocol for alien medical mistakes?”
“Emergency intervention in technologically younger populations is not unprecedented.”
Daniel glanced up.
Neris noticed.
“Not humans.”
“Yeah.”
“Not this.”
“Still.”
He rubbed the monitor beneath his shirt.
“Call Mara.”
Daniel made the call himself.
The clinic receptionist recognized his name.
That helped.
His explanation did not.
“Farm accident,” he said.
“Yes, I understand that part, Mr. Mercer.”
“Daniel.”
“Dr. Singh has no open appointments today.”
“I’m not asking for an appointment.”
Claire watched him from across the kitchen.
Neris sat very still beside the stove.
Daniel continued.
“I need her to come here.”
The receptionist paused.
“For a home visit?”
“Yes.”
“Is this urgent?”
Daniel looked at Neris.
“Not emergency urgent.”
Claire mouthed, Terrible phrase.
Daniel ignored her.
“Complicated urgent.”
The receptionist was silent.
Then:
“I’ll ask her to call.”
Mara called fourteen minutes later.
“What did you do?”
Daniel smiled despite himself.
“Morning.”
“What did you do?”
“Feed-system accident.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Silence.
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
Another silence.
This one was longer.
“Did you hit your head?”
“No.”
“That is not reassurance.”
“I need you to come out.”
“I have clinic until noon.”
“This afternoon.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked toward the monitor.
“Because I had treatment.”
“What treatment?”
“Experimental.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Mara said, “From whom?”
“Someone I trust.”
“That is not a medical credential.”
“No.”
“Is this legal?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Not in the way you mean.”
Claire put her face in both hands.
Neris’s ears angled back.
Mara said, very slowly, “I am going to regret asking this.”
“Probably.”
“Are you in immediate danger?”
“No.”
“Are you currently stable?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have active bleeding?”
“No.”
“Difficulty breathing?”
“No.”
“Neurological symptoms?”
“No.”
“Fever?”
“No.”
Mara exhaled.
“I can come after clinic.”
“Thanks.”
“I haven’t agreed to whatever ridiculous thing you’re not telling me.”
“I know.”
“What exactly am I walking into?”
Daniel looked at Neris.
“A lot.”
Mara hung up.
Claire stared at him.
“That was the worst possible version of that conversation.”
“She’s coming.”
“That is not evidence of success.”
Marcel arrived before noon and found all three of them cleaning the kitchen.
Daniel was seated.
The distinction mattered to everyone except him.
Claire was wiping the table.
Neris had moved the obvious ship equipment upstairs.
Daniel was attempting to reorganize medical papers without standing.
Marcel came in carrying a replacement hinge plate.
He looked around.
“Company?”
Daniel nodded.
“Doctor.”
Marcel stopped.
Then relief crossed his face.
“Good.”
Daniel frowned.
“That’s your reaction?”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Concern about the secret.”
Marcel set the hinge plate down.
“I’ve been concerned about what happens if you fall over after the spaceship leaves.”
Daniel pointed at him.
“Everyone keeps using that example.”
“It’s persuasive.”
Marcel removed his hat.
“What am I supposed to do if your magic blood machines start doing something strange? Check your temperature with the cow thermometer?”
Claire looked at Daniel.
“I like him.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“It keeps being true.”
Marcel poured himself coffee.
Daniel watched.
“You understand telling a doctor means another person knows.”
Marcel shrugged.
“Better than another funeral.”
The words were gentler than the last time he had used them.
Daniel nodded.
Marcel leaned against the counter.
“My problem is different.”
Claire looked up.
“What?”
“My wife knows something’s wrong.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Marcel.”
“I haven’t told her.”
“Good.”
“She’s not stupid.”
“No one said she was.”
“I’ve been over here every day. I come home late. I say Daniel’s hurt. She asks why there’s no hospital. I say home care. She asks who’s doing it. I say Neris. She asks who Neris is.”
Neris’s ears lifted.
“What did you say?”
Marcel looked at her.
“A friend helping with the farm.”
“That is true.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“That you’re private.”
Daniel coughed.
Marcel ignored him.
“She thinks I’m helping you hide a woman.”
Claire’s eyebrows rose.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
“Technically...”
Marcel pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Neris’s tail moved behind her.
“Does your wife believe you are having an affair?”
“No.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then what does she believe?”
“That something is strange.”
Neris considered.
“That is accurate.”
Marcel sighed.
“How long can you keep it up?” Claire asked.
He thought.
“Depends how much she likes me this week.”
Daniel smiled.
Marcel drank his coffee.
“I’m not telling her unless we have to.”
Neris nodded.
“For now.”
Marcel looked toward the woods.
“For now.”
Mara Singh arrived at one forty-three.
Daniel watched her car cross the yard through the front window.
Claire had asked him twice whether he intended to greet her at the door.
He had said yes.
Neris had said no.
Daniel now sat in the living room chair with the support frame beside him.
Compromise.
Mara entered carrying a medical bag and wearing a winter coat over dark clinic clothes.
She was in her late forties, perhaps fifty now. Daniel realized he had never asked. Her black hair was streaked with grey at the temples and pulled back loosely after what looked like a long morning.
She saw Daniel.
Stopped.
Then looked at the support frame.
“Farm accident.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re thinner.”
“Apparently.”
“Stand up.”
Daniel glanced at Neris, who was not visible from the entryway.
“Hello to you too.”
“Stand.”
He used the frame.
Slowly.
Mara watched every movement.
Her face lost humour.
“Sit.”
Daniel lowered himself again.
She removed her coat.
Claire appeared from the kitchen.
“Mara, this is my sister Claire.”
Mara nodded.
“Toronto.”
Claire looked at Daniel.
“What is wrong with everyone here?”
Mara smiled.
“Local classification system.”
She washed her hands.
Then began examining Daniel.
No spectacle.
No curiosity about the house.
Just medicine.
Breathing.
Oxygen.
Heart rhythm.
Reflexes.
Pelvic stability without stressing the healing structures.
Mara listened to his lungs for a long time.
Then again.
She looked at him.
“What injuries?”
Daniel told her.
Three broken ribs.
Pulmonary injury.
Pelvic fractures.
Internal bleeding.
Mara stared.
“Hospital.”
“No.”
“CT?”
“No.”
“Surgery?”
“No.”
“Ambulance?”
“No.”
She stood very still.
“When?”
“Eight days ago.”
Mara looked at his gait.
Then at his chest.
Then at the notes he had provided.
“That is not possible.”
Daniel said nothing.
She looked at Claire.
Claire folded her arms.
Mara returned to Daniel.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He gave the answer he had planned.
“A lot.”
Mara sat down.
“Good. At least we’ve reached honesty.”
Daniel looked toward the kitchen doorway.
Neris remained out of sight.
ER remained silent.
Mara held out her hand.
“Show me the monitor.”
Daniel removed the outer shirt.
The small Earthside unit sat against his chest.
Mara leaned closer.
“This isn’t commercial.”
“No.”
“Who made it?”
“Same people who treated me.”
“People.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“Yeah.”
Mara touched the casing but not the sensor.
“Does it transmit?”
“Locally.”
“To whom?”
“Right now, us.”
“Can someone access it remotely?”
“Not from Earth.”
Mara looked at him.
Claire turned away to hide her expression.
Mara said, “That sentence was unnecessary unless the distinction matters.”
Daniel sighed.
“I received emergency treatment using an experimental medical system belonging to people who cannot presently disclose its origin.”
Mara waited.
Then:
“Illegal clinical trial?”
“No.”
“Military?”
“No.”
“Corporate?”
“No.”
“Foreign government?”
Daniel looked toward Neris.
“Not in the way you mean.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“I dislike that answer.”
“So did Claire.”
“Claire has good instincts.”
“Please don’t encourage her.”
Mara ignored him.
“What is inside you?”
Daniel placed a hand over the monitor.
“Nanites.”
She did not laugh.
“Define.”
“Microscopic medical machines.”
Mara’s gaze stayed on him.
“Where?”
“Throughout.”
“Function?”
“Healing. Monitoring. Tissue support.”
“Temporary?”
“No.”
That changed her face.
“How long?”
“Unknown.”
“Removal?”
“Unsafe.”
“Self-replicating?”
“Limited.”
“Contagious?”
“No.”
“Can they enter another person?”
“No under normal conditions.”
“Normal conditions.”
Daniel looked toward the doorway again.
Mara saw it.
“Is the person who treated you here?”
Daniel nodded.
“I want to meet them.”
He looked at Neris.
“Come in.”
Neris stepped into the room.
Mara went completely still.
Neris wore dark trousers and a simple sweater. No coat. No disguise.
Black fur.
White stripe.
Ears.
Short muzzle.
Tail.
Real enough that the room had no place to put her except inside reality.
Neris stopped several metres away.
“I am the person who treated him.”
Mara stared.
Not at the tail first.
At the face.
Then the hands.
Then the posture.
Finally, she looked at Daniel.
“You’re not from Thunder Bay.”
Daniel laughed.
Pain flickered across his ribs.
Neris’s head turned immediately.
Mara noticed.
That broke the moment.
She looked back at Neris.
“Mephit,” Neris said.
Mara blinked.
“What?”
“My species.”
Mara exhaled slowly.
“That was not the difficult part of the sentence.”
Neris’s ears shifted.
Daniel leaned back.
“This is going better than I expected.”
Mara pointed at him.
“Do not interpret my restraint as comfort.”
“Fair.”
She looked at Neris.
“Sit.”
Neris sat.
Not because Mara held authority over her.
Because the conversation required fewer distances.
Mara opened her notebook.
“Did Daniel consent?”
“Yes.”
“To treatment by you?”
“To emergency medical intervention under specific conditions.”
“When?”
“Before the accident.”
Mara’s expression sharpened.
“You discussed this possibility in advance?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we knew my medical technology might save him in circumstances where conventional response was too slow.”
Mara looked at Daniel.
“You planned for this.”
“We planned not to use it.”
“That is different.”
Neris nodded.
“Yes.”
Mara continued.
“What did you know before treating him?”
“His approximate anatomy. Medical history as he described it. Current injuries. My nanites had prior passive exposure to human biological samples through environmental contact.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That sounds worse than when we discussed it.”
“It is technically accurate.”
Mara said, “What did you not know?”
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