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pocket and nowhere else to go.
Inside, the museum was all high domed ceilings and Egyptians,
botanical displays and gemstones under glass. Susan appreciated these,
but she especially liked the dark vaults of the dinosaur arcade, cool
Pleistocene fluorescence and faint voices like the drip of water. The
articulated bones of Triceratops regarded her with the stately indifference
of geological time. Susan returned the look for almost a quarter of an hour,
reverently.
Beyond Triceratops, the corridor wound away to the left. She eased
back slowly into human history; where she was startled, turning a corner, by
the Evolution of Man.
It was one of those museum displays that compare the skull sizes,
tools, curvature of the spine across the eons. Here was Homo habilis
leading the human march out of Olduvai, but surely, Susan thought, the
entire concept was archaic: did anyone still believe evolution had
proceeded in this reasonable arc? From stone club to Sidewinder missile,
here at the pinnacle of time?
But she supposed John would have had a place here, too, if anyone
had known about him. Dr. Kyriakides had once told her that he wanted to
engineer the next step in human evolution. A better human being. One who
would make us obsolete. Or at least embarrass us for our vices.
So here would be John, leading the march toward the future, a little
taller and a little brighter and in his hand what? A pocket H-bomb? A
neutrino evaporator? Or he might be as pristine as Dr. Kyriakides had
envisioned him ... as weaponless and innocent as a child.
She turned away. Suddenly she wanted the high ceilings of the main
arcades, not this cloistered space. But before she left she paused before
the diorama of Neolithic Man, stooped and feral in wax, wincing at the first
light of human awareness. Our father, she thought. Mine and John s, too; as
obdurate, inscrutable, and foreign as every father is.
* * * *
Still he did not call.
Friday afternoon she phoned Maxim Kyriakides at his office at the
University.
He said, I should have come myself. Forced the issue. Then he
could not have avoided me.
I don t think that s what he needs. That is I had the impression it
would have made things worse.
You may be right. Still, I could come there if necessary. He added,
I suppose I m feeling guilty about demanding so much of your time.
It s all right.
Is it really? You weren t so obliging when you began the project. I
had to talk you into leaving.
I think it s different now meeting him and all. I wasn t sure what to
expect. Some kind of monster.
Are you sure he s not?
She was quietly shocked. I don t know what you mean.
Only that it s easy to forget that he is what he is. He has abilities you
won t have encountered. His point of view is unique. He may not feel bound
by conventional behavior.
I understand that.
Do you really, Susan? I hope so. I worry that you might be projecting
your own concerns onto him. That would be a mistake.
I know. (But she was blushing.) There s no danger of that.
Then I m sorry I mentioned it. He was being very Old World now,
very charming. I really do appreciate the work you re doing, Susan.
She thanked him cautiously.
He said, Stay as long as you like. But keep in touch.
I will.
And ultimately if there s nothing we can do
I know, she said. I m prepared for that.
She was lying, of course.
* * * *
Benjamin called that evening. The call was brief, but Susan could hear the
anxiety in his voice.
There s a problem, he said.
What is it? Is it John? Is he sick?
Cold night and the city bright but impersonal beyond the windows.
He s thinking of leaving town, Benjamin said. You want the truth? I
think he s afraid of you.
We have to talk, Susan said.
* * * *
She met him at an all-night cafeteria on Yonge Street.
The club next door was hosting a high-powered reggae band; the
bass notes came pulsing through the wall. Susan ordered coffee and drank
it black.
Benjamin came in from the street shivering in his checkerboard
flannel jacket. She marveled again at how unlike John he was: nothing to
distinguish this man from anyone else on the street. He smiled as he pulled
up his chair, but the smile was perfunctory.
He shucked his jacket and ordered a coffee. He added cream and
sugar, sipped once, said: Oh hey, that s good. I needed that.
You look tired.
I am. Ever since we had our talk ... I guess I m kind of reluctant to fall
asleep. Don t know who ll wake up. He wants more time, Susan. All of a
sudden he s fighting me.
I didn t know he had a choice.
You come to terms with something like this. But there was never any
real conflict before. I mean, you don t understand what it s like. It s not
something you think about if you can help it. You just live your life. I think . . .
John was fading because he didn t really care anymore. He let me do what I
wanted and he wasn t around much. Now . . . this whole thing has stirred him
up.
Susan leaned forward across the table. You can tell that?
I feel him wanting to be awake. Benjamin sat back in his chair,
regarding her. You think that s a good thing, don t you?
Well, I I mean, it s important to know
I had to take a couple of days off. Benjamin smiled ruefully. John
was kind enough to phone in sick for me.
You said he was thinking about going away?
Both of us have been. I talked to Amelie about it. I asked her if it
would be okay, you know, if I didn t see her for a while.
What did she say?
Basically, that it would be okay, but it wouldn t make her happy. He
took a compulsive gulp of coffee. If we do this if we go for
treatment would it be possible for Amelie to come along? There s not
much to keep her here. I mean, budget permitting and all.
I d have to talk to Dr. Kyriakides. It may be possible. She hoped not.
But that was petty. You were saying about John [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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pocket and nowhere else to go.
Inside, the museum was all high domed ceilings and Egyptians,
botanical displays and gemstones under glass. Susan appreciated these,
but she especially liked the dark vaults of the dinosaur arcade, cool
Pleistocene fluorescence and faint voices like the drip of water. The
articulated bones of Triceratops regarded her with the stately indifference
of geological time. Susan returned the look for almost a quarter of an hour,
reverently.
Beyond Triceratops, the corridor wound away to the left. She eased
back slowly into human history; where she was startled, turning a corner, by
the Evolution of Man.
It was one of those museum displays that compare the skull sizes,
tools, curvature of the spine across the eons. Here was Homo habilis
leading the human march out of Olduvai, but surely, Susan thought, the
entire concept was archaic: did anyone still believe evolution had
proceeded in this reasonable arc? From stone club to Sidewinder missile,
here at the pinnacle of time?
But she supposed John would have had a place here, too, if anyone
had known about him. Dr. Kyriakides had once told her that he wanted to
engineer the next step in human evolution. A better human being. One who
would make us obsolete. Or at least embarrass us for our vices.
So here would be John, leading the march toward the future, a little
taller and a little brighter and in his hand what? A pocket H-bomb? A
neutrino evaporator? Or he might be as pristine as Dr. Kyriakides had
envisioned him ... as weaponless and innocent as a child.
She turned away. Suddenly she wanted the high ceilings of the main
arcades, not this cloistered space. But before she left she paused before
the diorama of Neolithic Man, stooped and feral in wax, wincing at the first
light of human awareness. Our father, she thought. Mine and John s, too; as
obdurate, inscrutable, and foreign as every father is.
* * * *
Still he did not call.
Friday afternoon she phoned Maxim Kyriakides at his office at the
University.
He said, I should have come myself. Forced the issue. Then he
could not have avoided me.
I don t think that s what he needs. That is I had the impression it
would have made things worse.
You may be right. Still, I could come there if necessary. He added,
I suppose I m feeling guilty about demanding so much of your time.
It s all right.
Is it really? You weren t so obliging when you began the project. I
had to talk you into leaving.
I think it s different now meeting him and all. I wasn t sure what to
expect. Some kind of monster.
Are you sure he s not?
She was quietly shocked. I don t know what you mean.
Only that it s easy to forget that he is what he is. He has abilities you
won t have encountered. His point of view is unique. He may not feel bound
by conventional behavior.
I understand that.
Do you really, Susan? I hope so. I worry that you might be projecting
your own concerns onto him. That would be a mistake.
I know. (But she was blushing.) There s no danger of that.
Then I m sorry I mentioned it. He was being very Old World now,
very charming. I really do appreciate the work you re doing, Susan.
She thanked him cautiously.
He said, Stay as long as you like. But keep in touch.
I will.
And ultimately if there s nothing we can do
I know, she said. I m prepared for that.
She was lying, of course.
* * * *
Benjamin called that evening. The call was brief, but Susan could hear the
anxiety in his voice.
There s a problem, he said.
What is it? Is it John? Is he sick?
Cold night and the city bright but impersonal beyond the windows.
He s thinking of leaving town, Benjamin said. You want the truth? I
think he s afraid of you.
We have to talk, Susan said.
* * * *
She met him at an all-night cafeteria on Yonge Street.
The club next door was hosting a high-powered reggae band; the
bass notes came pulsing through the wall. Susan ordered coffee and drank
it black.
Benjamin came in from the street shivering in his checkerboard
flannel jacket. She marveled again at how unlike John he was: nothing to
distinguish this man from anyone else on the street. He smiled as he pulled
up his chair, but the smile was perfunctory.
He shucked his jacket and ordered a coffee. He added cream and
sugar, sipped once, said: Oh hey, that s good. I needed that.
You look tired.
I am. Ever since we had our talk ... I guess I m kind of reluctant to fall
asleep. Don t know who ll wake up. He wants more time, Susan. All of a
sudden he s fighting me.
I didn t know he had a choice.
You come to terms with something like this. But there was never any
real conflict before. I mean, you don t understand what it s like. It s not
something you think about if you can help it. You just live your life. I think . . .
John was fading because he didn t really care anymore. He let me do what I
wanted and he wasn t around much. Now . . . this whole thing has stirred him
up.
Susan leaned forward across the table. You can tell that?
I feel him wanting to be awake. Benjamin sat back in his chair,
regarding her. You think that s a good thing, don t you?
Well, I I mean, it s important to know
I had to take a couple of days off. Benjamin smiled ruefully. John
was kind enough to phone in sick for me.
You said he was thinking about going away?
Both of us have been. I talked to Amelie about it. I asked her if it
would be okay, you know, if I didn t see her for a while.
What did she say?
Basically, that it would be okay, but it wouldn t make her happy. He
took a compulsive gulp of coffee. If we do this if we go for
treatment would it be possible for Amelie to come along? There s not
much to keep her here. I mean, budget permitting and all.
I d have to talk to Dr. Kyriakides. It may be possible. She hoped not.
But that was petty. You were saying about John [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]