and hung it from a hook set into the ceiling.
FIorrie *s aesthetic sense was better than Griffith's. The eggshell looked odd and lonely high up in the comer, where it was safe. It would have looked fine in the window, but not
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at the expense of its existence. Infinity could see that someone would have to build Florrie a table or a stand or a little cabinet for the egg, maybe with a bit of mirror behind it.
'Well!' Defending herself with indignation, Florrie sat
stiff and straight on the window seat.
Both relieved and embarrassed. Kolya offered Florrie a small bow.
'I hope you will be happy on our expedition,' he said. 'I hope you will be happy, too, J.D.'
'Thank you, Kolya,' J.D- Sauvage said.
In a moment the cosmonaut was gone.
Though the party inside took a little while to ease again, the party outside had loosened up considerably. As the light faded to dusk, people put lines out to Arachne for music.
Couples and groups danced on the grass, unsynchronized, each to a different interior melody. Infinity would have to reseed the center of the yard, after all. He did not mind too much.
He kept an eye on Griffith, trying to figure out what bothered him about the man. After Kolya left, Griffith acted like everyone else, mingling, chatting. But every so often, when Infinity glanced around, he found Griffith gazing at him with that scary neutral expression.
Infinity went inside. Florrie sipped lemonade. Stephen
Thomas still knelt at her feet—as far as Infinity could tell, he
had not moved. They chatted.
Infinity admired Stephen Thomas's new earring. He wondered who had made it and whether they would make a similar one for him, only with synthetic rubies instead of emeralds.
He joined Florrie and Stephen Thomas.
'You let me know if you get tired, Florrie,' Infinity said,
'and I'll chase all these folks home.'
She peered out the French doors. 'Who is that man?'
Griffith stood alone on the porch.
'He said he's with the GAO,' Infinity said.
'The GAO!' Victoria frowned, doubtful. 'What's he doing, auditing our books?'
'Could be, I guess.'
'He's a narc,' Florrie said.
'What?'
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'A narc.'
**I heard you, I just don't know what that means.'
'Is the government going through anti-drug hysteria again?' she asked. 'I gave up reading local news years ago.'
'The main tantrum the U.S. is going through right now is about Sfarfarer and the expedition,' Infinity said. 'Plorrie, please, what's a narc?'
'Be careful around him,' she said. 'If you use any kind of drugs, he'll put you in jail.'
Infinity and Stephen Thomas looked at each other, confused. What kind of drugs could get you put in jail? Most recreational substances were designed so their effects wore off quickly, and anyone who chose something more powerful ought to have the sense to check out their tolerance for it and make adjustments. Infinity had known people who too frequently sought out effects that were too strong—watching them was one of the reasons he did not drink—but he could not imagine involving the law in the problem. A supervisor, or a doctor, sure. Even the community council. But the law?
'You don't know much history, do you?' Florrie said.
'Not enough, I guess,' Stephen Thomas said politely.
'You be careful. If you do anything they don't like, if you make trouble, they'll accuse you of using drugs and they'll ruin you. They take a real problem and they pervert the solution to it to increase their power over you. They'll take your job away. That happened to a friend of mine, and he didn't even use alcohol, much less something illegal. But he was a troublemaker! And they destroyed him for it!'
'I don't think you need to worry,' Victoria said, keeping her voice gentle, neutral, almost as neutral as Griffith's expression. 'We're all troublemakers up here, in one way or another. They can't get us all.'
'Don't patronize me, young lady!' Florrie snapped, with a spark of real anger. 'If you ignore me because you think I'm a senile old coot, you'll be sorry!'
'I don't think—it wasn't my intention—' Victoria's voice broke. She stopped. Her dark skin flushed, '—to patronize you.'
Infinity suddenly shivered. He looked out the window at Griffith, wondering if Florrie was worried over the wrong details, but for the right reason.
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When he glanced back toward Florrie and the alien contact team, Victoria had disappeared.
Victoria hurried to the edge of the garden, out of the light.
She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Not someone. Floris Brown.
'Victoria?'
J.D. crossed the shadows and stopped beside her.
'What's wrong?'
'1 don't know. It's just . . .' She fell silent. 'She had a perfect right to react that way, 1 was being patronizing.''
'There's a difference between being patronizing and being reassuring. I thought her reaction was kind of extreme.'
Victoria shrugged.
'Why did what she said hurt you so much?' J.D. asked.
Victoria told J.D. about her own great-grandmother.
'I tried to get Grangrana to apply to the expedition, but she wouldn't. She's older than Ms. Brown, quite a lot. She's frailer. She traveled all over when she was younger, and now . . . she's tired. I'm worried about her. I don't want to leave her behind. I miss her, J.D., I miss her so much.' Victoria smiled. 'Grangrana can give you what-for, but she wouldn't ever slap you down.'
'You wanted Ms. Brown to like you, didn't you?'
'I did. I think she's admirable, to apply for the program and come all this way. I thought she did like me. On the transport. But tonight she didn't even remember me.'
'I'm sorry.'
'isn't it strange,' Victoria said, 'how somebody can say a couple of words to you, and make you feel like a four-year-old?'
'No,' J.D. said. 'Not strange at all. Especially when it's somebody you want to make a connection with.'
Victoria squeezed J.D.'s hand. 'Thanks. For talking. For . . . noticing.' She still felt shaken, as much by surprise at the intensity of her reaction as by Ms. Brown's words. She made herself smile. 'What did Cherenkov give you?'
'Hey, Victoria!' Satoshi joined them. He carried J.D.'s presents in the crook of his arm. 'J.D., you forgot these.'
'Oh. Sorry. Thank you.' She took them from him. 'Kolya invited me to lunch,' she said to Victoria. 'He offered
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to make piroshki. I don't know what piroshki is, but I'm looking forward to finding out.'
'Piroshki are the Russian version of fried dumplings or pasties or ravioli,' SatoshJ said.
Satoshi put his arm around Victoria's shoulders. His bare skin touched hers through the open lace of her shirt. She put her arm around his waist, glad of his warmth.
