antagonism he sensed but could not understand. And finally, ending at the beginning, the almost physical jolt of meeting her. Not just an appreciation of her beauty or a plain glandular reaction but a sense of…knowing her already, somehow.
At the end of all this, Anne said, 'Well, it's just a guess, but what occurs to me is that she's Sephardic.'
He came abruptly to a halt and stood still, eyes closed. 'Of course. A Jew, of Spanish ancestry.' He looked at Anne. 'She thinks my ancestors threw her ancestors out of Spain in 1492.'
'It would explain a lot.' She shrugged and they began to walk again. 'Personally, I love the beard, darling, but it does make you look like central casting's idea of the Grand Inquisitor. You may be pushing a lot of her buttons.'
Jungian archetypes work both ways, he realized. 'Balkan,' he said, after a while. 'The accent could be Balkan.'
Anne nodded. 'Maybe. A lot of Sephardim ended up in the Balkans after the expulsion. She might be from Romania or Turkey. Or Bulgaria. Someplace like that.' She whistled, remembering Bosnia. 'I'll tell you something about the Balkans. If people there think they're going to forget a grudge, they write an epic poem and make the children recite it before bed. You're up against five hundred years of carefully preserved and very bad memories about imperial Catholic Spain.'
The silence lasted a little too long to give credence to his next remark. 'I only wanted to understand her better.' Anne made a face that said, Oh, sure. Emilio went on doggedly. 'The work we are doing is difficult enough. Hostility simply makes it harder.'
Anne thought of an off-color comment. She didn't say it, but Emilio read it on her face and snorted, 'Oh, grow up,' and she giggled like a twelve-year-old who's just discovered smutty jokes. Anne took his arm then and they started back toward the house, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood buttoning up for the night. Dogs barked at them, the leaves rattled and whispered. A mother called out, 'Heather! Bedtime! I'm not going to tell you again!'
'Heather. Haven't heard that one in years. Probably named after a grandmother.' Anne suddenly stopped and Emilio turned back to look at her. 'Shit, Emilio, I don't know—maybe God is as real for you as George and I are for each other…We were barely twenty when we got married, back before the Earth's crust cooled. And believe me, nobody gets through forty years together without noticing a few attractive alternatives along the way.' He started to say something, but she held up her hand. 'Wait. I intend to bestow upon you unsolicited advice, my darling. I know this will sound glib, but don't pretend you aren't feeling what you feel. That's how things slide into hell. Feelings are facts,' she said, her voice a little hard, as she began to walk again. 'Look straight at 'em and deal with 'em. Work it through, as honestly as you can. If God is anything like a middle-class white chick from the suburbs, which I admit is a long shot, it's what you
Emilio kissed Anne good-night, waved to George, and started back to John Carroll with a great deal to think about. Anne joined George on the porch, but before Emilio got beyond earshot, she called out, 'Hey! What did I get on the midterm?'
'Eighty-six. You messed up the ablative.'
'Shit!' she yelled. And her laugh sailed out toward him in the dark.
By Monday morning, he had come to some conclusions. He did not shave, feeling that would be too obvious, but he adjusted his manner, becoming as neutrally Anglo as Beau Bridges. Sofia Mendes relaxed fractionally. He permitted himself no small talk and fell into the rhythm of question and answer that suited her. The work went more smoothly.
He began meeting George Edwards on his training circuit and going part way with him. Emilio decided to run the 10K in the big spring race. George, who would be running the full marathon, was glad for the company. 'Ten kilometers is nothing to be ashamed of,' the older man assured him, grinning.
And he found work to do at a high school in a miserable neighborhood of East Cleveland. He brought the energy to God.
In the end, he was rewarded with something like a moment of friendship. Sofia Mendes had suspended their meetings for several weeks and then let him know she had something for him to look at. He met her at his office and she spoke to his system, calling the file in from the net. Waving him into a chair and sitting down next to him, she said, 'Just start in. Pretend you are preparing for assignment to a mission where you'll use a language you have never studied and for which no formal instruction is available.'
He did as he was told. After several minutes, he began skipping around, asking questions randomly, pursuing instruction at different levels. It was all there, the experience of years, even the songs. His best effort, ordered and systematized, seen through the prism of her own startling intellect. Hours later, he pushed away from the desk and met her eyes, which were shining. 'Beautiful,' he said ambiguously, 'just beautiful.'
And for the first time, he saw her smile briefly. The look of fierce dignity returned and she stood. 'Thank you.' She hesitated but then continued firmly. 'This has been a good project. I enjoyed working with you.'
He rose, as it was clear she intended to leave, just like that. 'What will you do next? Take your fee and relax on a beach, perhaps?'
She stared at him for a moment. 'You really don't know, do you,' she said. 'A very sheltered life, I suppose.'
It was his turn to look at her, uncomprehending.
'You don't know the significance of this?' she asked, indicating the metal bracelet she always wore. He had noticed it, of course, a rather plain piece of jewelry, in keeping with her preference for simple clothing. 'I receive only a living stipend. The fee goes to my broker. He contracted my services when I was fifteen. I was educated at his expense and until I repay his investment, it is illegal to employ me directly. I cannot remove the identification bracelet. It's there to protect his interests. I thought such arrangements were common knowledge.'
'This can't be legal,' he insisted, when he could speak. 'This is slavery.'
'Perhaps intellectual prostitution is nearer the mark. Legally, the arrangement is more like indentured service than slavery, Dr. Sandoz. I am not held for life. When I repay the debt, I am free to go.' She gathered her belongings as she spoke and made ready to leave him. 'And I find the arrangement preferable to physical prostitution.'
That was altogether more than he could take in. 'Where will you go next?' he asked, still stunned.
'The U.S. Army War College. A military history professor is retiring. Good-bye, Dr. Sandoz.'
He shook her hand and watched her go. Head up, a princely posture.
6
ROME AND NAPLES:
MARCH-APRIL 2060
In March, a man with stolen Jesuit credentials managed to get past Residence security and into Emilio Sandoz's room. Fortunately, Edward Behr happened to be on his way there, and when he heard the reporter badgering Sandoz with questions he went through the door low and fast. The momentum of his drive slammed the intruder into a wall, where Brother Edward kept him pinned while shouting wheezily for assistance.
Unfortunately, the entire incident was broadcast live, transmitted by the man's personal AV rig. Even so, Edward thought afterward, it was rather gratifying to believe that the world might incidentally have gained some respect for the athletic abilities of short, fat asthmatics.
The intrusion was a setback for Sandoz, for whom the incident had been literally nightmarish. But even before the break-in, it was clear that he wasn't improving much mentally, despite the fact that his physical condition had stabilized. The worst symptoms of scurvy were under control, although the fatigue and bruising persisted. The doctors suspected that his ability to absorb ascorbic acid had been impaired by long exposure to cosmic radiation. There was always some kind of physiological or genetic damage in space; the miners did fairly well because they were shielded by rock, but the shuttle crews and the station staffs always had trouble with cancers and deficiency diseases.
