dreams.'
'Dreams?'
'Don't ask me what they're about, because I don't know. Sometimes I am almost on the verge of remembering-I can almost see a picture in my mind. A word or a sound will trigger it, but then it's gone. Everything goes blank.
'But I can tell you this: they are strange, frightening dreams. I wake up in a cold sweat, trembling. Once or twice I believe I have screamed. I know I have cried in my sleep.
'There is no pattern to it that I can see. Sometimes it happens during a session-the experiments, you know- and sometimes when I'm asleep in my own quarters. But the emotional impact stays with me for a while, lingering over me like a ghostly presence, haunting me.'
'That's horrible!'
'It gets worse.'
'Your order, sir.' The waiter materialized out of nowhere to place several steaming dishes before them. 'Enjoy your meal, Monsieur, Mademoiselle.'
'Uh-oh,' said Spence. 'Something's wrong.'
'What is it?' said Ari, afraid that some new horror had descended upon Spence.
'Red wine with sole. How gauche.' He pulled a wry grin. 'Ari, you are dining with a gauche person.'
She laughed and the sound was a bubbling of music. 'Down with convention! I don't care. Besides, you know what they say.'
'What do they say?'
'Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.'
'Is it?'
'Well, Emerson thought so. He said it.'
They both laughed then and Ari saw the lines of strain ease from around his eyes and mouth. He let go; the ice had been broken. He had trusted her with his secret; now he would confide in her. She, too, relaxed, discovering she had been sitting on the edge of her chair since they were seated.
'Cheers!' said Spence, lifting his glass and clinking it against hers. He took a sip of wine and then dug into his food with the haste of a hungry man. They ate in silence until he pushed back his plate with a motion of finality. He had reached a decision.
He launched back into his confession willingly. The words spilled out in a torrent; the floodgates had opened. Ari sat spellbound as she listened.
'The blackouts began a week ago-five days, to be exact. Nothing in my family history would indicate a condition such as this. No epilepsy, catalepsy, or anything of that sort. It's completely original with me, whatever it is.
'What takes place during the blackouts, I have no idea. Neither do I know how long they last precisely. I estimate anywhere from six to ten hours, working backward from the time I can last remember until I wake up again. Obviously I am fairly active during these episodes, judging from the fact that I seem to be able to get myself into varying degrees of difficulty.' He raised a hand to the red side of his face.
'These self-destructive acts, as Dr. Williams calls them, are well known in psychological literature-especially in association with blackouts or amnesia. It is not unusual for a blackout to result from the trauma of a very destructive or threatening act. In other words, the mind blocks the memory of the episode because it is simply too painful to remember.
'In my case, however, I believe it is just the other way around. I can't prove anything one way or the other, but something inside tells me I'm right in the assumption. I thought about it all last night as I lay in sick bay. It's just a gut hunch, but right now it's the best I've got.'
'I'm not sure I understand.'
'What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that in my case the blackouts come first and trigger the self-destructive acts. Only I don't think the point is to destroy myself.'
'What is the point?'
'To escape. Flight is one of the oldest animal reflexes. It's basic, universal. Even the most timid creature will flee into an unknown danger in order to escape a known one.'
'But, Spence,' Ari gasped, 'who or what would want to harm you?'
'I don't know-yet. But I mean to find out.' He glanced al Ari's worried face; she was chewing her lower lip and scowling furiously. 'I know how fantastic this all sounds. You must think I'm a raving madman. Why invent invisible enemies? Why concoct outrageous theories when the same facts can be explained more simply with known principles? I've asked myself those questions a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours. But there's something inside me that won't let me accept the other alternative. And right now that's all I have.'
Ari leaned across the table and placed her hands on his. She looked him full in the face and said, 'I believe you, Spencer.'
'You do?'
'Yes, I do. For one thing, no one could talk the way you do – so objectively, so logically-who was suffering the kind of mental distress you describe. So I believe you.'
'I didn't think it would be that easy. I mean, there's every reason to lock me away before I hurt myself or someone else. But… you don't think I'm going crazy?'
'No, I don't. Whatever it is that's causing these-these seizures, it must be something outside yourself.'
'That's it, Ari. You've said it. Something outside of me. I've felt it hovering over me. A presence… I can't describe what it's like.'
'How can it be, though?'
Spence clenched his fist. 'I don't know. I scarcely believe it's possible. But that's the feeling I get sometimes.'
'Did you enjoy your meal, sir?' the waiter asked. How long he had been standing there Spence wasn't sure. He was surprised to see the table cleared of the dishes; he had been so wrapped up in his story he had not noticed them being taken away.
'The meal was fine, thank you.'
'Very good, sir. I will bring your check.' 'Thank you, Spence. It was a lovely meal.' 'If somewhat gruesome.'
'No, I mean it. I can't say I enjoyed the conversation-knowing what you have been through. But I've enjoyed being with you.'
The waiter brought the check on a silver tray and placed it before Spence, handing him a silver fountain pen at the same time. He signed his name and personal accounting code.
'Thank you very much, Monsieur. Join us again very soon. Adieu.' The waiter turned and snapped his fingers and a white – coated young man appeared with a silver coffeepot and filled their china cups. He placed between them a tiny silver bowl which contained four delicate pink rosebud mints.
Spence sipped his coffee thoughtfully. Ari could see him weighing his next words carefully.
'Ari, I've told you all this because I want to ask a favor of you.'
'Go ahead.'
'It's a small thing, but it's important to me. You'll probably think it's silly.'
'No, I won't. Not after all you've told me today. I don't think any of this is silly. I think it's extremely serious.'
'Well, your father asked me to join the research trip to the terraforming project on Mars.'
'I remember. I was there when he asked you.'
'Right. The thing is, I've decided to take up his offer. I'm going to go on the trip. Only no one can know. That's where you come in. I want you to fix it for me so that all the necessary arrangements are made without anyone beyond your father and his staff knowing about it. Can you do that?'
'I think so; I can try. But, Spence, do you think that's wise? You'll be away a long time-anything could happen. You could have blackouts again, and out there no one would be able to take care of you, no medical facilities.'
'I have to get away, don't you see? The blackouts started here, and if I stay they'll continue. They may happen out there, too, I realize that. But I have to take that risk.'
Ari was not convinced. She frowned. 'I don't like it-it's too dangerous. Why don't you stay here and arrange to
