The song "Love Hurts," from the band Nazareth, seemed only somewhat fitting for the biotech clinic that shared its name. The song played quietly in the background outside and was magnified once we entered the building.

  "Welcome to Love Hurts," a chipper woman said, "the home of sex and medicine."

  Her hair was done up in a curl of midnight black. She was reasonably clothed considering we were on Eros, in a nurse's outfit that was a little tight, a little short, and a little revealing. Sure, it was a little scandalous, but it was nothing compared to what I saw among the Egyptian mummies in the pyramid. Mummies are supposed to be wrapped from head to toe, not unwrapped from head to toe. Then again, they are also supposed to be lying in tombs, not walking around serving food and drinks or working security.

  I immediately held Sango closer, or maybe he clung to me. Clinics, even touristy themed ones like this, will do that to a kitty.

  A few people sat inside, but it wasn't a busy time of night. It was a slow time of day between breakfast and lunch.

  One man in the waiting room was perpetually catching fire. He would extinguish the fire with a spray bottle, but then it would spark up again. Not serious enough for Playing with Fire to treat it themselves, so they must have sent him here. Every time the flame came back, he would yelp a little. His bottle was getting emptier and emptier. I figured that if I stayed here long enough, I would have a hard time stopping myself from giggling every time he caught fire again. It shouldn't be funny, but you could see that we wasn't in a life or death situation, and well, that just made it hilarious to me.

  The other man was thin and bald with green shorts, pink flip flops, and t-shirt that said EROSion is Real with a picture of the asteroid and bits of space dust, as if the asteroid was falling apart. There was concern about that very thing, Eros slowly getting smaller due to the heavy tourism and construction across the asteroid. Hence, the shirts. It might not happen in the next hundred years, but us aiways like to remind ourselves that we'll probably be here in a thousand years dealing with the consequences of our earlier stupidity. Mr. EROSion was sweating heavily and held a bag that I imagined was half full of vomit.

  "You know," I said to the two of them, pointing first at the man with the perpetual flame. "If you run out of water, then you," I pointed at the man with the bag of vomit, "could just throw up on him." I smiled and nodded my head like it was the best idea of the day.

  The two of them exchanged looks, the man on fire shaking his head No! vehemently, while Mr. EROSion shrugged like, I'm okay with that. He threw up in his bag again, wiping his mouth with one hand while he raised the bag with his others, as if to say, See? That could work.

  "Hello Sir," the peppy nurse called out. "You look like you came prepared. Have you been here before?"

  I was busy laughing in my head at the image of the man puking on the other man, while the fire started to spread uncontrollably across his body, the man being disgusted at being puked on, but begging for him to throw up more. Over here. Now here. Gagging and burning and gagging and burning.

  "What?" I asked.

  "You look like you came prepared." She pointed at my underwear, or rather my lack of pants.

  My face reddened. "I'm ... uh, just here for a biotech appointment. Ocular sensors, some minor functions. You take walk-ins, right?"

  "Yes," she said with a smile.

  "And you can help me with my biotech?"

  She pointed at a sign above her, next to a large Love Hurts logo on the wall that read, The Experts in Sex and Medicine.

  "Sex and medicine," she said, like I couldn't read the sign.

  "Just the medicine, please," I laughed.

  "Sex and medicine," she insisted, pointing again at the sign.

  Surely I don't need the sex part, I thought to myself. I mean, why would someone who is in need of a clinic also want sex? It made no logical sense to me. I just assumed it was part of the theme, a clever joke.

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  I narrowed my eyes at her. "I really just need the medicine, hopefully some routine repairs. I don't have time for anything else."

  "Oh, you misunderstand," she replied, nodding her head. "It's sex AND medicine."

  "What if someone has a raging fever and is vomiting uncontrollably?" I said, pointing at suffering Mr. EROSion.

  "Sex. And medicine."

  I was puzzled. "In what order?"

  "Sex. And medicine."

  "Both at the same time?" I asked.

  "Sex. And medicine."

  I shook my head. "That seems really unsanitary. What if they're bleeding out of their chest? You know, like a lot, like it's spewing out, a thick spray all over the place."

  I motioned with my hands and chest as best I could, still clutching Sango.

  "We are not an emergency room," the nurse explained, "but if they do choose to come here, then sex. And medicine."

  I walked closer to whisper for a little privacy from the other two patients. "But I don't want the sex. I want the medicine."

  "You already have your pants off. Your response seems contradictory to your actions. Are you a hypocrite?"

  I was going to lose my shit. "Look! I didn't take my pants off, okay. I would much prefer to have pants right now. Especially right now. And I don't have time for anything other than getting repairs."

  "Why didn't you buy some pants? Las Vegastroid has numerous clothing stores nearby."

  "Because I don't have the time!" I yelled. I looked down at the floor. I didn't know what to do. "What if I paid for both, but you just skipped to the medicine."

  "I think you know the answer, sir."

  I stared at her, tapping my foot, ready to punch a wall. "Sex," I said, counting to three before adding, "and medicine."

  "Now you're getting it," she smiled.

  By good fortune, that was when a doctor walked out, wearing roughly the same outfit, but in a calming sky blue color. She opened the door and announced, "@brad-all-the-time, we're ready to see you."

  The man on fire stood up, his knee catching as he did. He sprayed himself again, squirt squirt, and then went through the door and out of my view.

  I flagged down the doctor as she held the door.

  "Excuse me," I said, "but I just need some basic repairs."

  The doctor laughed. "Is that one giving you trouble?" She motioned her head toward the nurse behind the counter.

  I sighed. "Yes, she is."

  The black-haired nurse cast her eyes to the ceiling and grimaced at me.

  "Well, we have a doctor seeing the gentleman who just went in. That one," she pointed at Mr. EROSion, "is waiting for his medicine to wear off, so I should be able to fit you in. I'm @stephascope."

  I figured @stephascope wasn't her real name. I mean, an immortality of being called something like that really commits a person to their job. But I suppose she could archive her personality and start over again. People do it. I haven't, but it's supposed to be healthy when you're ready to say goodbye to yourself and start anew.

  I stuck my tongue out at the nurse, and Sango and I followed @stephascope through the door. She led us slowly down the hall, walking over thin carpet and shiny tiles, lined with exam rooms.

  "Thank you," I said. "I really don't have time or interest for your full experience here. No offense. I just really need to get my systems fixed."

  We entered an exam room at the far end of the hall. It reminded me a bit of the Hollow Kings room, but with more equipment, although it looked much simpler. She motioned for me to hop up on the examination table. I removed my leather jacked and tossed it on a chair in the corner, placing Sango on top, where he immediately pawed at it and curled up. Then I scooted myself up onto the table, my legs annoyingly sticking to the paper film.

  When I looked back, @stephascope had unzipped the top of her outfit to reveal a hint of her body. Her blonde mangy hair reminded me a bit of @horsehead, and I couldn't help but think that maybe the nurse behind the reception desk had been right all along.

  But no! You don't have time for this, I told myself. You're tired, you're hungry, you're in a ton of pain, and you just need to sleep.

  "Maybe I wasn't clear," I stated, trying to maintain an even voice. "I just need a few repairs."

  "A checkup?" the doctor replied, twirling her fingers over a chart.

  "Yes, but no. More than a checkup. I need it actually fixed."

  "What is there to fix? It looks like it's working," she said, coming closer and putting a hand down on the exam table next to my leg, making a distinct crinkle noise against the paper.

  I tried to ignore her. "Ocular sensors, communications ... I basically fried my minor systems."

  "I can multitask," she said proudly, walking over to a tray and picking up a plastic tongue depressor in one hand and a neurosplicer in the other.

  "I don't really care," I sighed. "I just want my systems back to normal and online."

  She zapped twice in the air with the neurosplicer, showing the subtle sparks of electricity.

  "Don't you dare zap me with that thing," I said heatedly. "I have most recently been extremely electrocuted. Do not touch me with that thing."

  She shrugged, pocketing the neurosplicer in her front chest pocket.

  "In that case," @stephascope murmured, still holding the tongue depressor, "let me see what's see what's wrong with you."

  She ran the tongue depressor against her skin and along the zipper, fully opening her outfit as she pushed the zipper downward. The motion created a steady tick-tack noise as the plastic tongue depressor slid against the teeth of the zipper and revealed her body.

  Then she lowered the tongue depressor further, circling first her belly button, and then down farther. She squeezed her legs together, clutching the plastic and holding it firmly in place.

  "Open your mouth and say Ahh," she commanded.

  I don't remember what happened after that.