The Quiet Pools

Tipped that morning by a friendly fitness instructor, Malena had industriously recruited four others for the outing, two from center staff and two other colonists, including, to her surprise, Thomas Grimes. She had half expected she would have to twist Grimes’s arm, and had been unsure that she had a good enough grip to succeed.

There had been no reprise of their lovemaking of a few nights before, nor even much acknowledgment in eyes or words that the encounter had even taken place. At times, the older man had seemed uncomfortable, even embarrassed, in her presence. She had meant to press the issue and find out what was in his mind, but so far he had managed to dodge an accounting.

But when she called him at midday and told him what was happening, Thomas volunteered, “If you’re going, I would like to come along,” even before she could ask. That was a pleasant surprise. She hoped it meant that he had worked out whatever conflict he had over what had been, for her at least, a warm and tenderly erotic time. And though the outing was not really a date, when she dressed, she chose her clothing—outer and under—with an eye to pleasing him, and a thought to how the evening might end.

Though Thomas had been quietly reserved all night, he had hovered close by her in a familiar, if very proper, way. He sat with her on the tram, paid for her wine and chocolate cheesecake, rearranged the chairs so that she was not condemned to sit in the back of the auditorium. And through it all, he paid almost no attention to Isa, the sloe-eyed medical technician who seemed to be drawing everyone else’s glances.

A gentleman, she thought. How nice to be with a gentleman. When the lights went down and the painfully nervous young musician stumbled his way on stage, Malena had reached for Thomas’s hand, and though he started at first, they had watched most of the set with fingers entwined.

But when the rousing last number was over, Thomas had excused himself and disappeared into a confusion of bodies too dense for Malena to follow him, even with her eyes. And now the intermission had come and gone, the music was starting again, and the seat next to Malena Graham was still empty.

“I’ve lost track of Thomas,” she said, leaning toward Isa. “Can you see him anywhere?”

Isa craned her head and looked back toward the annex. “No,” she said after a few moments. “Why, are you worried about him?”

“I’m just confused.”

“Did he say he was coming back?”

“He said, ‘Excuse me, there’s something I need to do.’ Or something like that.”

“Maybe he got caught in his zipper. Do you want me to check the dunnaken?”

“Oh—I suppose not. It seems silly.”

“Maybe not. He’s old. Old people get sick. Or maybe he said the wrong thing to the wrong person,” Isa said, rising. “You never know, in a strange place. I’ll give a look.”

“You’ll miss the music—”

Isa glanced toward the stage and grimaced. “That’s okay. I must not be in the mood.”

The answer to the mystery was delivered by a stranger, a white-whiskered man wearing a yellow Wonders T-shirt—the uniform of the club employees. While Isa was gone, he appeared suddenly beside her and crouched down where she was sitting. “Excuse me. Are you Malena?”

She looked up, trying to see his face in the dim light. “Yes. Why?”

“I have a message for you from Thomas?” The messenger seemed unsure of himself.

“Right, Malena. What?”

“He asked me to tell you that he had to leave, that he was very sorry, and that he would see you back at the center.”

She gaped. “When did you talk to him?”

“Three or four minutes ago. I was on the counter, so I couldn’t get up here until now.”

Isa returned at that point, creating a traffic jam in the aisle.

“Was he sick? Did he say why he had to leave?” Malena asked.

“He didn’t look sick to me. He looked anxious. Or in a hurry.”

“Was he alone?”

“I didn’t see anyone with him.”

“Sssh,” someone nearby hissed.

Malena glared in the direction of the sound. “I can’t believe he just left.”

“I’m sorry. He just asked me to make sure you got the message.” His face apologetic, the messenger backed out of the aisle and retreated, making room for Isa to move past.

“He’s not there,” she said.

“Sssh!”

“I know,” she said, catching Isa’s sleeve and pulling her into her chair. “They just told me he left.”

From Ambika’s wind synth came the startling sound of a hunter’s horn, a ripping echo in the hard-walled room.

“Left? What a prick. What do you want to do?”

“I want to pop him and then eat something chocolate.”

Isa grinned. “Can’t do either of those here, unfortunately.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” suggested the complaining voice.

“Well—I don’t think I really want to sit here for another hour listening to this.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Isa. “This is college city. Ladies Night Out. We’ll go find some fun on our own.”

“Hooray,” said their annoyed neighbor.

“What about the others?”

“I’ll check.” Isa leaned forward and whispered in the ear of the man in front of her. After a few side whispers, she sat back. “They’re going to stay.”

At that point, Ambika’s instrument began barking and baying like a pack of hounds. Malena rolled her eyes. “What is it they say about those things? An ill wind that nobody blows good?”

Malena’s syrupy drink sparkled with glittery stars and an orbiting comet-shaped glow bright enough to cast flickering shadows on the table.

“It’s not fair,” she said, holding the tall glass at eye level and staring into it.

“What’s not?” asked Isa, looking past her toward the couch-lounge, where some sort of holoshow was under way.

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to conceive.”

Isa smiled. “Oh. That.”

Gulping down a swallow, Malena tipped her glass and studied the changing dynamics. “It’s in the glass, not the drink,” she pronounced, setting it down. “Here’s what’s unfair. You can have any man you want, and you may not even be any good in bed. I’m terrific and I just about have to knock them down with my chair to get them to notice me.”

“Forget Grimes. He’s a prick.”

“No, he isn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “If he was a prick I wouldn’t care. He’s sweet. He’s a gentleman. And he did this to me anyway.”

“Then there must be a good reason, and you’ll find out what it is tomorrow.”

“I know what the reason is. The reason is me,” Malena said. “I don’t get it. What do men want, anyway? Besides you.”

“Men want sex, power, and to live forever,” Isa pronounced.

“So do I. That doesn’t explain it.”

“Men want to plant their seed in strong healthy women who’ll raise their kids without asking too much from them in return.”

“Now we’re getting to it,” said Malena. “They look at you and they say, ‘Oooh, good genes.’ Not to mention, ‘I’ll bet I could get it up with her.’ They look at me and say, ‘Next, please.’ ” She emptied her glass and placed it on the reorder disk.