There were all sorts of theories about how pain was relative, and the same injury on two people could be perceived completely differently. Someone who had clearly dissected fewer zannies than Nita, but with access to better equipment, had written a detailed analysis of how zannies consumed pain. That reminded Nita-there was an article in the latest issue of Nature on zannies that she wanted to read. When your biological imperative was to torture people and eat their pain, there were only so many career paths open to you. Pretty much every zannie in the world was wanted for some type of war crime. He was a member of the secret police under the Fujimori administration.” No surprise there. “Um.” “The zannie is wanted for war crimes by the Peruvian government. Whatever would I do without you?” Nita winced. Nita shifted her feet, looking at the corpse again. How could I resist?” Her black-and-red-striped bangs fell forward as she dipped her head and half smiled. Her mother shrugged, draping her jacket over a chair. If she’d wanted to cut up the same unnaturals as usual, she would have asked to stay with her dad in the States and work on unicorns. She’d been looking forward to dissecting something new. I thought we moved to Peru to hunt South and Central American unnaturals? Chupacabras and pishtacos and whatever.” It wasn’t that zannies were common, but Nita had dissected plenty during the months she and her mother spent in Southeast Asia last year. “Another zannie?” Nita scowled at her mother and crossed her arms as she examined the body. He was indistinguishable on the outside from any other human-the inside, of course, was a different matter. Middle-aged, and in the place between pudgy and overweight, he wore a casual business suit and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with silver handles that blended into the gray at his temples.
NITA STARED AT the dead body lying on the kitchen table.
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