Reversion - A Novel Part 8

aHow can you possibly know this?a he demanded.

I grinned deliberately. aYou need to take the time to read your copies of Nature. Check the May issue. Thatas where Powell describes the pion.a His eyes narrowed in calculation. aJust what is a pion?a aPowell calls it the aprimary mesona of a chain, with a ma.s.s of over 200 electrons.a I quickly decided not to tell him that the word would be consigned eventually to identifying only the lightest meson. Roy Carrington had tried very hard to elucidate the postulated ameson chain,a only to have the English researcher Cecil Powell beat him to the pion and the resulting n.o.bel prize in one of scienceas little-known personal tragedies.

He blinked at me and took a deep breath before turning to Ellison. aIam satisfied. My report will recommend accepting the lad a" and the girl too on his say-so. Now please excuse me. I need to set up a phone call.a He rushed past us out of the room.

aWell!a our greeter expostulated. aYou certainly snowed Carrington!a He chuckled. aBut I guess wead better ask at least a few questions. Wonat you take seats?a He alternated between Alice and me. His questions were fairly elementary. I had boned up on the Periodic Table as currently understood and avoided all the high-end traps. Precision demands respect from most people. That I could quote from memory the atomic weight of U235 and Plutonium to four places impressed him immensely a" which of course anyone in my place might have antic.i.p.ated. He, ludicrously enough, had to check in his reference book.

Then he turned the floor over to the mathematician, who surprised us. He grinned at Alice and said, aWhat was Fermatas last theorem?a aMay I use the board?a she asked coolly.

aOf course.a At the blackboard she wrote the basic equation, then flipped her head around to Charkhandra in a characteristic gesture that bounces her hair like a horseas tail. I recalled it from the many years of our previous a.s.sociation. It conveys disdain better than anything else I ever saw, while maintaining a perfectly neutral countenance. She said, aFermat conjectured that n can never be greater than two.a aVery good.a The dark face nodded. aDo you know the story of his claim to proving it?a aNot enough room on the margin of his letter for the proof to fit, or so he said.a aWell, I shall prove it,a the dark man declared positively. aI am very close and I need an agile young mind to help me. How you would like to work with me on this? Your thesis might describe your contribution.a No doubt this was a wonderful opportunity for the average supplicant. But Alice knew even better than I that Fermatas last theorem was never proven until 1995. She answered immediately, aNo, thank you, Dr. Charkhandra.a His eyes widened. aMust you reply so quickly? Why not?a She raised her chin. aMy thesis is already planned. It will describe a method for interpreting certain recent discoveries in cosmology.a aCosmology!a he repeated derisively. He took a breath and shook his head. aI trust your interpretations will have a mathematical basis.a aOh, yes. They will be well grounded in the statistics of stellar fluctuations.a The man sighed and sat quietly looking down at the tabletop.

Ellison asked, aDo you have any questions for us?a Clara had one. aWhatas next?a aWeall submit our reports to the dean and heall interview you before he makes his decision. Dr. Dell is not one to dally. You should hear from him in a few days.a We took our leave with smiles and thanks. Charkhandra never looked up. Outside on the way to the car, Clara asked me, aWhen did you hear that the atomic weights of Plutonium and fissile Uranium had been decla.s.sified?a Oops!

Almost a week later, leading us through the bewildering quads to find the dean of graduate studies, Clara became hopelessly lost. I could not direct her because that office, fifteen years later when I was a graduate student, was located in a newer building. In desperation she accosted a young man, either an older student or a newer member of the faculty who wore an Ike jacket with an Eighth Army shoulder patch. Alice and I stood back as she asked directions.

aWhat do you know about this dean, Peyton Dell?a Alice asked in a whisper. aI donat remember him.a aHe was before my time too,a I replied, aalthough I do recall hearing that he got caught up in the McCarthy business. He may have been some kind of historian.a aThe Red Scare!a she responded vehemently and almost spat. aWeare back in the stone age, Timmy.a Before I could correct her historical allusion, Clara returned looking much relieved.

aItas through that gateway ahead and at the far end of the next quad.a She managed her first smile in half an hour. aLetas hurry or weall be late.a We walked quickly, at adouble-time,a as they said then. After entering a rather non-descript doorway and ascending a flight of stairs we found ourselves in front of a windowed door that declared in precise black lettering, Dean of Graduate Studies. An attractive blond woman in a chastely b.u.t.toned nylon blouse beamed at us from behind a ma.s.sive wooden desk as we entered. Filing cabinets lined the walls around her. Alice stifled a gasp and clutched my arm. I feared my knees would buckle.

aIam Margery Holmes, Dean Dellas secretary,a she announced to Clara after a cursory glance at Alice and me.

Clara acknowledged the woman. Alice and I hovered near the door.

aOh my G.o.d!a I whispered to the staring little girl. aSheas much younger now, but that was my first woman at Chicago.a aMine too,a Alice almost squeaked.

aWeall have to wait a few minutes, children,a Clara announced, addressing us in that superior manner for the benefit of Miss Holmes. We had discussed Claraas manner toward us in public and decided that treating us as the children we seemed to be would attract the least attention.

aYou may sit on that bench,a Margery offered with a gracious sweep of her arm.

We accepted dutifully and silently. Clara took the seat closest to the desk.

aWe rarely see people here so young,a said the lovely blonde, beaming first at Alice then at me. I recalled that same intimate smile from many years in her future.

aPerhaps you will see more of these two,a Clara responded proudly.

The womanas eyes widened. aThey are the graduate applicants?a aIndeed they are.a Margery shook her head. aThe war has caused so many changes in people.a The war? The idea that a war had put two such genius applicants before her was almost amusingly ingenuous. But Clara fielded it well with the story of her own terrible loss, gaining immediate sympathy. I recalled Margeryas pillow talk of three lovers lost during WWII, though somehow never a husband that might pay the widowas bonus.

Alice, one leg thrown over the other, wagged her right one energetically. I looked at her vacant face, wondering if she were trying to m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e as she remembered a future tryst with that remarkable woman. I fell into a reverie of my own memories.

aTim, Tim!a Claraas voice brought me back. aThe dean will see you now.a Alice and I stood to join Clara. Marge rose behind the desk, went to the adjacent door and turned the k.n.o.b.

aYour two thirty appointment is here, sir,a she announced crisply into the open doorway and moved aside for Alice and me to enter. Clara waited on the bench. Our invitation had specified that applicants must face the examiner una.s.sisted.

As I pa.s.sed, Margery placed a hand affectionately on my head. Instantly I wondered whether she was attracted to an underage but pretty boy. Why not? By her own admissions, twelve years later, she responded to anyone who evidenced attraction to her. I hesitated long enough to cut smiling eyes up to her oddly young face, causing her own eyes to widen slightly a" until Alice, well aware of my thoughts, pushed me forward irritably.

Peyton Dell was a man in his late fifties, perhaps a little older. The fringe of gray hair around his bald pate lent him a monkish appearance, except that the carnival barkeras pencil thin mustache confused the image. I instinctively concluded he was not trustworthy.

aCome, you two,a he said, half rising and gesturing at chairs in front of his desk. aSit down here so we can talk.a His voice and manner were patronizing, and I could feel Alice bristle stiffly beside me. We sat and stared mutely at the man who was overweight although not obese. He returned the stare with piercing blue eyes and thumped his cheek with a dark wooden letter opener.

A polite phrase rose to my lips to break the icy confrontation, but the ball was in his court. We simply returned his stare until he placed the implement firmly on the desk and cleared his throat.

aYou children have impressed two of our most senior professors,a he began. aThe words ascientific prodigiesa were used more than once in my conversation with them.a He said this without a glimmer of a smile, as if it were an accusation. I twisted in the uncomfortable chair and resisted expressing the annoyance I felt. When Alice opened her mouth to speak, I kicked her foot lightly as a warning. But the man actually smiled in a manner that appeared sincere.

aI gather you resent being called children, but thereas no denying it. Ages ten and twelve, I see.a He studied an open folder on his desk top.

A heavy silence endured for another minute as he leafed casually through the papers. He closed the folder decisively, pushed it aside and looked into our faces with fingers steepled beneath his chin.

aYouare simply too young for graduate studies, Iam afraid, despite this universityas reputation for welcoming early entrants.a He struggled with the bleak words and was on the verge of continuing when I interrupted. aWhat deficiency have you detected? Our intellectual capacity to succeed in the program is amply demonstrated to the satisfaction of men whom you call senior professors.a aYes, but aa He shook his head. aYou are still too obviously just children.a I hunched forward in my chair. aThat is merely a social distinction. We shall be living with our Aunt Clara, of course. We have no desire or intention to interact socially with the other graduate students except in the most perfunctory manner. You neednat worry about us becoming prey to, ah, any irresponsible persons who might be on campus. We are indeed children, but we possess a far greater sophistication than you realize.a aYes, yes, so it seems to you, without doubt.a He waved his hands dismissively. aBut you are inadequately educated in the broad sense that we expect of our graduate students. A unique, genius agility in science and mathematics is simply not enough. If, for example, you intend to write a dissertation in astrophysics that depends as all do upon Copernican discoveries, we need to know of your familiarity with the seemingly irrelevant ideas of Copernicus along with the society in which he lived, in order to judge the gravity of your ideation. The University of Chicago does not confer academic degrees on idiots savants.a aIdiots savants!a Alice jumped to her feet, hands clenched in outrage. aDoes it award them to conclusion jumpers? Perhaps you would care to examine us in your area of specialization. I know a bit of history!a Dell straightened in his chair with a sneer. aIam not an historian, little girl. I hold the Charles Grayson Dunne Chair of Theology in the Divinity School, and examining you in that subject would be pointless, donat you agree?a aJust as well, Professor Dell,a I responded politely, hoping to mollify the man. aAlice and I have never studied theology, although our general knowledge is superior to many of Chicagoas best undergraduates.a aAre you so certain, young man?a He grinned briefly. aWe like to think our undergraduate curriculum is more rigorous than that of Harvard or Yale.a aWhich is of course laudable,a I countered, aconsidering this university was founded with Rockefeller money as a Baptist school less than fifty years ago.a Dell stifled a choke. aYou are just about correct in that scornful a.s.sertion, Mr. Kimball, but we have come a long way since then.a He leaned forward with elbows on the desktop. aWould you perhaps be familiar with the leading composers of the period in which this university was founded?a aYou mean Mahler and Richard Strauss?a I shot back.

aOr Stravinsky, even Puccini?a Alice added.

He extended a hand palm outward and shook his head. aThis is not the way to proceed,a he said half to himself. He glared at us. aI suppose your heads are crammed with trivia.a aWhat can I say, Professor Dell? Alice and I are also sophisticated far beyond our years in social and cultural matters. We have not simply acc.u.mulated data through rote learning. Surely the results of our special examinations attest to that. If any body of knowledge is in fact no more than an ordered collection of trivia, you will find that our trivia is very well organized.a From his point of view, of course, he was correct. There was as yet no reason for him to think Alice and I were anything beyond idiots savants or well-coached parrots. Still his tone annoyed me and I resolved to wreak havoc with his comfortable smugness.

I began in the voice of a college lecturer despite its boyish pitch. aThe earlier part of the sixteenth century, the time of Copernicus, was intellectually stressful for the great minds of the period. The allure of cla.s.sical antiquity remained as compelling as the exciting new discoveries that marked this the beginning of a truly modern age.a aVesarius mentioned that in his Lives of the Artists,a Alice interrupted brightly.

Dell hunched forward with elbows on the desk. He stared at us with confusion and no little suspicion.

aMachiavelli recommended the rejection of early firearms and advocated the readoption of Roman military practice,a I continued, awhereas some decades later the English abandoned a definitely superior weapon, the longbow, in favor of firearms just because they were considered modern. And Copernicus aa aJust a minute!a Dell spoke up a bit too loudly. aYou say the longbow was superior to firearms? That sounds more than a bit far-fetched.a aI could cite Benjamin Franklin as an authority, Professor Dell. He considered the bow superior to the musket two hundred years after the English put military archery aside. It is not well appreciated today that the real advantage of personal firearms in that period was not their firepower but the ease with which tolerable skill might be acquired. Proficiency with the longbow required a lifetime of practice, beginning as a stripling.

aBut returning to Copernicus, we find a scientist definitely of modern rank. Solely from rational observation, the basis of the modern scientific method, he challenged Ptolemaic cosmology that had endured from the time the Alexandrian Library still existed.a Alice piped up, aBut there was a third intellectual force at work, Timmy, one that stood entirely apart from the contention between modernity and antiquity.a aYes, of course, the Roman church, determined to preserve its traditional authority and justifications against its own challengers, astronomers as well as the religious protestants.a aThe execution of Giordano Bruno for holding stubbornly to the notion of physical infinity was a monstrous travesty!a she a.s.serted.

aOf course that occurred later, but it served as a lesson for Galileo.a Alice and I talked back and forth to each other in this soph.o.m.oric manner while Dell gaped incredulously from one to the other with a slack mouth.

aSuperst.i.tion died slowly,a I continued, aeven among educated men. In the mid sixteenth century Sigismund von Herberstein published his famous Rerum Moscovitarum which remained a standard treatise on Russia for a hundred and fifty years. He had woodcuts in that work depicting what he called Siberians whose faces were implanted in their chests.a aYou are interested in Russia?a Dell asked with sudden intentness. aWhat about current events? You wish to be scientists. Have you given any thought to the role of science in the postwar world?a Alice squirmed in the chair. aAre you referring to scientific compet.i.tion with the Soviet Union?a she asked and immediately shut up. She realized her mistake.

I held my breath anxiously. The Cold War had not yet begun. Numerous Americans considered our wartime ally to be friendly. People were still mulling Churchillas iron-curtain speech.

aScientific compet.i.tion with the USSR?a Dell was incredulous. aThat brave country is a shambles and its recovery will require decades of unrelenting toil. I know. I served with the OSS in Moscow throughout the war.a He literally looked down his considerable nose at us. aAnd I did not evacuate with the others to Kiubyshev when the n.a.z.is were at the gates,a he added smugly.

I too spent several years in Russia, albeit after it had thrown off the Soviet yoke. So I asked Dell in fluent Russian, aDid you not indeed! Then you must have already been a Moscow resident before we entered the war in December of 1941.a His chin dropped a full inch. He stuttered but replied, also in Russian, aI went to Russia with the first Lend Lease planners in October of that year. I was naturally rea.s.signed to the OSS when the U.S. declared war. I remained in the city as liaison.a aThen how is it, may I ask, that you speak Russian with a p.r.o.nounced Leningrad accent?a He actually blushed. aMy secretary and comrade, who, ah, taught me so much, was raised in Leningrad.a But he straightened up stiffly. aThat is as nothing in comparison to the twelve-year-old who can tell the difference. Was your mother perhaps Russian?a I didnat want to tell him that I had also enjoyed the lingering favors of a female comrade from Leningrad a" St. Petersburg when I was there. Deprecatingly I gave him part of the truth. aI have a talent with languages too.a aOchevidno,a he agreed, though his eyes were somewhat gla.s.sy.

I reverted to English. aI a.s.sume you share Henry Wallaceas opinion of that country and how the United States can cooperate with it in rebuilding the world.a I put it as a matter of fact, because such a view was socially and politically admissible in 1947.

aWallace?a Dell sat up straight. aThereas a great man! He would be president now had the Democrats not bounced him from the ticket in a44, in favor of that haberdasher.a aYou donat care for Truman?a Alice asked a bit coyly.

aTruman is very dangerous.a Dell actually looked over his shoulder. A hand across his mouth m.u.f.fled his voice. aHe and the people around him.a aI might agree with that, Professor Dell,a I spoke up, aif you valued a childas political view.a He stared at me searchingly. aYou are no child.a His gaze turned to Alice. aAnd you, Miss, ah, Miss Edgeworth. Are you the mate of this one?a aIn every way,a she declared flatly, staring into his eyes. aAnd when he is a n.o.bel laureate, I shall stand beside him.a He chuckled slightly. aYou expect to win next year, I take it.a aVery soon,a she retorted. aMy own discoveries in cosmology will knock their stocks off in Stockholm.a aTheir stocks! Yes, very good.a He seemed to relax for the first time. Although it was evident we had shocked him into a new appreciation of our intellectual capacity, he leaned back in the chair with hands clasped behind his head and smiled at us.

aPerhaps we can accommodate you two at Chicago after all,a he said almost cheerfully, aalthough we canat formally accept you into the graduate program, at least not at first. You say youall be living with your aunt. Is she with you? Iad like to speak privately with her.a So we filed out. Clara was alone in the anteroom. I told her, aWeare in. His nibs wants a word with you. Whereas Mara" ah, Miss Holmes?a aCongratulations! With me? Heall get no gossip from me! Margery went to the bathroom.a We waited after the door closed behind Clara. Alice grinned knowingly at me. aShow off!a aYou too.a aThat guttural c.r.a.p was Russian, wasnat it?a aYeah.a aThat you learned off that little chippy, Solayeva.a aChippy! She had more scientific degrees than I did!a aI know which degrees she had more of! Why did he blush?a aHe let slip that he also learned Russian from a little chippy.a aThese foreign women! Whatave they got that I donat? And donat you dare mention b.o.o.bs.a I shrugged. aNothing. Except opportunity at the time.a I grinned at her. aI thought I was the one skirting anachronisms.a She tossed her head. aWeare supposed to be precocious, arenat we? He knew what I meant.a Clara came charging through the door. aCome on!a she ordered brusquely, sweeping past us. A red spot stood out on both her cheeks. I had hoped to exchange a few words with Margery but they would wait. Alice and I vaulted to our feet and followed on Claraas heels.

aWhatas the matter?a Alice asked when we were clear of the building.

The woman took several deep breaths, slowed down and grinned sheepishly. She shook her head. In a moment she giggled. aActually it was flattering. I ought to go back and kiss him.a ad.a.m.n it, Clara,a I complained, awhat in h.e.l.l did he say to you?a aHe asked if I would name the man who fathered you two upon me.a

Chapter 7: A New Friend and an Old Enemy.

I looked up from Dellas letter to Clara, who was reading a newspaper, and told her, aI canat believe this! Iam scheduled for three seminars.a She met my gaze. aIn what?a aElectron Resonance Measurement, Gravitational Diffraction and, of all things, Medieval Political Structures. Jesus Christ!a aWould you prefer Mohammed?a She smiled. aDell wants you well-rounded.a aHmph! I called upon J.C. in desperation. At least Dell didnat saddle me with that! But Clara, Iave already published two papers on ERM, Gravitational Diffraction is a chimera, and only one political rule existed in the Middle Ages: you either killed your liege or obeyed him.a A look of fondness settled on her features. I have come to recognize that. It means she is forgiving me for some masculine gaff. She said, aTimmy, I love you when the little boy shows through.a I bristled. aWhat little boy would know about this? Why do you call me that?a Alice, writing something in her notebook at the desk, commented acidly, aBecause youare whining.a I whirled to glare at her.

aHe also gave me three seminars,a she continued, aso calm down. And I added Russian 101.a aI shall not calm down,a I groused. aMaybe you can learn something in your Russian cla.s.s, but itas ridiculous for us to attend these seminars a" or any other, for that matter. The true purpose of academic seminars is to teach you to write rigorous scholarly papers. How many papers did I publish, 38, 39? And you had over 30, plus writing half of the ones that were in my name. This is a total waste of time. If we concentrated on our theses and their defense, we could be out of here in a few months, a year at the most, with doctorates. But these d.a.m.ned seminars will add another year.a I turned around. aWhereas that phone book?a aWhy?a asked Clara.

aIam going to make another appointment with Dell. I need to tell him a few things.a I started across the room but halted when Alice produced a Bronx cheer. I stared at her incredulously. aYou mean you want to waste an extra year?a She sighed. aTell him, Clara.a aTell me what?a aSomething females seem to understand better than men a" some men, that is. Which are you bucking for, a paper that says aPhD,a or the chains of a slave?a aThe what?a I asked in astonishment.

aThe government wonat call it that, but itas what youall be.a Clara said in a reasonable tone, aShe means, donat call so much attention to yourself, Timmy a" and to her, of course. Suppose you do convince Dell that a dissertation alone is enough to justify your doctorate. He may be arrogant but heas no dummy. The same is true of others, corporations, government agencies, who watch the graduate rolls. He and they will understand that you could have done this only for your second doctorate. It is impossible to go from high school to a defensible dissertation without learning how to write and defend one. They donat teach that in high school, you know. How could you possibly explain your success? You will attract a lot of attention, Timmy, especially the unwelcome kind. Is that what you want?a I stared at her. aCanat we just disappear off their scopes?a She sniffed. aThen why bother with degrees?a Of course we needed the degrees for their conferred credentials. Scientific papers, proposals and inventions would not be taken seriously in their absence. I drew a deep breath and sat down. aYou do have a point,a I admitted.

aDonat look so woebegone,a she suggested, still with her fond smile. aIt might even be fun. Iam sure youall enjoy the irony of criticizing the work of your seminar fellows, any one of whom could throw you out the window.a aYeah,a I agreed with the start of a grin.

aCome here and make us both feel better.a As she spoke, she popped the blouse off her shoulder. Her t.i.t flopped out, nipple jiggling. Obeying with alacrity, I declared, aMaybe Iall organize a seminar on Mammary Magnetism.a Alice stood over us enviously.

aI have another,a Clara noted, freeing the second.

aYour first datum,a the girl observed as she sank beside us: athe inverse square law does not apply.a If so, thatas the second datum. The first is that t.i.t-sucking satisfies the soul.

High ceiling Arlington Commons overflowed with the noontime crowd, mostly graduate students. Here and there at tables and standing in line were older persons, probably faculty, distinguished by their more careful attire. I was alone and hungry after a leisurely morning stroll through the quads, having often paused to reminisce about events here of my previous career that were yet to occur. I waited patiently for my turn at the steam table and finally turned back to the hall bearing a tray with a grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup and a gla.s.s of milk. The long tables, generally full of diners, some eating from paper bags, offered just a few isolated unoccupied seats. I chose the nearest one and sat down, unmindful of the people around me.

I heard a soft, feminine voice exclaim from across the table, aSurely youare not an early entrant.a I looked up to regard the girl sitting opposite. She had a long, clear face that was pleasant rather than pretty. Well-brushed auburn hair fell to the shoulders of a prim, light green gingham dress whose sleeves partly enclosed pale, slender arms. She smiled at me revealing an upper row of even, white teeth. She was taller than I, judging from the way she sat in her seat and the length of her arms a" perhaps much taller. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were not large, though they thrust noticeably in the front of her garment.

aOr perhaps youare just visiting,a she added in a friendly voice, speaking with authority as older girls often do to young boys.

I returned her smile. She was scarcely twenty, I thought, most likely an undergraduate.

aActually, Iam here to earn a PhD in physics,a I responded with a mouth half full of sandwich.

aAre you indeed!a she replied with a slight, tinkling laugh, incredulous. aAnd I thought I was a young one!a aYoung one? For what?a aFor graduate school, of course. Iam already writing my dissertation and Iam just 21.a She had a most remarkable, interesting face when she spoke. She seemed to employ every facial muscle and formed her lips around each word.

aIall beat that,a I said smugly like an impudent boy. aI hope to finish before Iam 15.a aReally!a She chuckled. aImagine that! And what will your thesis describe?a I shrugged easily. aHave to get through a few dumb seminars. Iall do the thesis next year. But I know its subject: Implications of the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Paradox.a aParadox? That sounds like three doctors to me!a aHuh!a I sneered at her pun. aThe paradox is that protons can apparently communicate a changing spin state to each other instantly though light-years apart, while Einsteinas Theory of Relativity a.s.serts that no message can travel faster than the speed of light.a Her eyes twinkled. aAnd you think youave found out something about it that no one else has, right?a aI know I have. What have you found?a aYou mean, whatas my dissertation on? Its t.i.tle is, The Semiotics of the Gothic Language, which sounds ordinary enough, Iam sure you agree. But in fact itas a sneaky way to propose a revival.a aGothic? Thatas a dead language, worse than Latin!a aExactly. But it had some wonderful features that weave lost. Like a special plural for common nouns that meant exactly two of them.a I shrugged. aIf you say so. Have you interested anyone else?a She shrugged. aMy mother. Sheas a language professor, you know. So how will you use a PhD at, what, age 14? Become a professor?a She stared at me without humor, perhaps miffed by my lack of interest in Gothic.

aIall invent stuff, I suppose.a I slurped soup while gazing at her over the spoon, more than a bit miffed myself by her accuracy at age guessing. I would have to play the little boy with this one, I concluded regretfully, although the old man inside recognized a fresh virgin who was ripe for picking. I couldnat tell if my talk had impressed her, though of course it should have. If not, I knew something that would! Then I had to laugh secretly. Share my unbelievable secret just for a chance to get into her panties? That too would probably be a vain effort rich in personal humiliation, even if I made her believe me. I sighed, suspecting Iad have to wait several years to conquer a bright, sweet thing like her, a girl who could only see me for what I appeared to be: a pretty, twelve year-old boy.

She leaned toward me across the table with the expression of an exasperated older sister. aYouave never been to school, have you? Just tutors, right?a aSo what?a I replied with exaggerated haughtiness.

aWell, it tells! I bet you have a huge IQ, but you donat have any social intelligence at all.a aHow can you be so sure of that? We havenat really met, you know.a I feigned an angry pout.

aIave seen plenty of your type here at Chicago, snotty early entrants who think they know everything, though none as young as you. Youare just a baby. Your daddy should have sent you to school at least part time to learn some manners.a aLike I suppose your daddy did?a I riposted vehemently. aWell, it didnat work for you! I just sat down here to eat my lunch and you begin insulting me for no reason.a She glared at me for a moment, and then a smile began to form at the left edge of her pretty mouth.

aYouare right, I didnat learn anything when I was forced to go to that awful school. The other kids treated me as if I smelled of dog doo.a She grinned broadly. aMy name is Rosalind.a She offered me a hand to shake. aRosalind with an -IND. Rosalind Cannell.a aIam Timothy Kimball.a I squeezed the hand slightly and quickly withdrew my own.

aTimmy?a My lip curled. aOnly strangers call me Timmy a" and people who are especially close.a aEspecially close!a She stifled a guffaw and then looked at me slyly. aLike your mamma?a I didnat answer but a.s.sumed a superior air as if I had a splendid secret.

aDo you have a girl friend?a she asked like a nosy aunt.

aDo you have a boy friend?a I countered.

aSure,a she laughed, abut weare not especially close.a Her face softened. aHeas not, you know, like one of us.a aOne of us?a aGeniuses.a We stared at each other, acknowledging our special condition. I wondered how far I could go with this girl if I played upon that shared aspect of our personalities. The look in her limpid brown eyes was not promising, however. I was just a little kid to her. I a.s.sumed she was looking for an adult genius and that before very long, if only out of curiosity, she would let a young professor undress her and rip her hymen. I hoped for her sake he was experienced with virgins. I hoped he was a nice guy. I was already jealous of him.

We talked for at least an hour, exchanging our life stories, which, predictably, were very uninteresting. I, of course, spun a web of lies. She had written a masters thesis in the history department on the influence of Ivan Peresvetov on the thinking of Ivan IV, the terrible one. She was very much absorbed by languages and literature. Before the commons emptied of its noontime crowd I came to realize that her experience in the real world was extremely limited. She had been closely sheltered by her family, and her boyfriend, she said, awas not very masculine.a I wondered if she had ever been kissed properly. She treated me like a younger brother to whom she was affectionate and bossy. But I really lost all hope of a chance with her when we stood to leave. She was seven inches taller than I.

aI live with my Aunt Clara and her daughter Alice,a I said to her as we walked down 59th Street toward her apartment on Dorchester. It was in the direction of Claraas house.

aI didnat expect you lived in the dorms,a she snickered and tousled my hair in a most annoying manner. aWe should keep in touch,a she added.

We stopped at a corner. It was her street. aCome visit me any reasonable time,a she offered, pointing at a small building just off 59th. aI have the bas.e.m.e.nt apartment.a aWhatas reasonable?a I started to ask when a voice interrupted me.

aRosalind! Iave been looking for you.a I turned quickly around and saw a young man hurrying to us.

aHarvey!a Rosalind beamed a h.e.l.lo and presented her right cheek for a peck. aIam sorry I missed you at the commons.a aI couldnat make it, dear. I got held up in Fa.s.sbinderas office.a He spoke to the girl, but all the while he looked down at me with a certain curiosity. He was as tall as she.

She quickly remembered her manners and introduced us. He was Harvey Gambel Stringer. He had a gaunt face, beaky nose and a prominent Adamas apple. His manner toward her was anything but pushy. He did not touch her after that peck on her cheek.

aLetas go to my place, guys, and talk,a she suggested, taking hold of my hand.

I resisted, totally uninterested in further contact with Harvey. But he seized my other hand. aYes, do,a he said with a look on his face that I immediately recognized. aShe knows how to make hot chocolate.a It was almost a leer. He was near salivating at the sight of my pretty self. This guy was a boy lover, whether he knew it or not.

aNo, no,a I protested. aAunt Claraas house is not far from here and sheas waiting for me to come home.a I jerked free, turned and almost ran away, feeling very much like a spare tire. The old man inside was not pleased. You want that pipsqueak to get her cherry?

aCome visit, Timmy. Promise?a Rosalind called from behind me, but I hurried on without looking back. What chance did I have with a female who was a full head taller? At least Harvey was the right height.

aRosalyn Yalow!a exclaimed Alice, looking up from her magazine. aSheas publis.h.i.+ng already.a aWhoas that?a I asked idly.

aDonat you remember? She won the n.o.bel in the Seventies for inventing radio immunoa.s.say. We consulted her on the radiation leak in your fusi-fizz project, spent a week at her inst.i.tute. She and I corresponded for a long time after that about my flower garden.a I faintly remembered her. I asked, aHow did she spell her name?a aWhy do you ask? It doesnat really sound like the color.a aI mean Rosalyn. Funny how many different ways women spell that word!a I looked up at her failure to respond. She was staring fixedly at me.

aJust how many Rosalyns do you know?a I shrugged. aI met one the other day who spells it -IND.a Alice asked acerbically, aYouare on such good terms with a Rosalind that she spells her name for you?a Clara had just come into the den and slouched on the couch beside Alice. She grinned at me with an inquiring eye. aSo! Is our c.o.c.k of the walk treading other walks?a aWell,a I admitted, aRosalind and I did have a conversation. Sheas 21, a genius graduate student and impressive.a I smiled disarmingly. aShe treats me like an impudent younger brother. But she already has a rather swishy boyfriend, one Harvey Springer.a Suddenly Clara sat up straight. aWhom did you say?a aRosalind Cannell. I think sheas from a"a aNo, the boyfriend!a aThe boyfriend? When he showed up, I bugged out. She introduced him as Harvey Gambel Stringer. Heas a string bean with a hooked nose and an Adamas apple that bobs up and down like aa I ran down, staring at Clara, whose face had gone pale.

aWhat is it?a I asked.

aAre you sure about the middle name, Gambel?a aWell, reasonably. Iall ask Rosalind tomorrow if I see her in the commons.a Alice sniffed. aAny excuse will do, eh?a aThis is important,a Clara a.s.serted. Her gaze seemed to turn inward. aHarvey Gambel Stringer! Yes, he did indeed attend Chicago in 1947. But itas a big school. Could there be two men here with such a name? No, no.a She seemed to be arguing with herself. aSurely not two who are both tall, skinny and hook-nosed with a prominent larynx. What color was his hair?a aDark. I couldnat really tell. He was wearing a toboggan cap.a aAnd heas, did you say, swishy?a I sneered. aFrom his tone of voice when I was introduced, I think he likes p.u.b.escent boys a bit too much a" whether he knows it or not.a aMy G.o.d, it must be he!a aFriend of yours?a I asked in wonder.

Her voice grated. aAbsolutely not!a She was adamant. The red spots had reappeared on her cheeks. Her eyes flashed fire at me. Alice looked back and forth between us in wide-eyed wonder.

I asked sympathetically, aWhat is it, Clara? What did he do to you?a She gestured disdainfully. aNothing to Clara Edgeworth or Sally Whitmond, but a great deal to Ellen Lundquist and seven thousand million others.a Staring at her, I thought over her words. aYou mean he had something to do with the Calamity? Wait a minute! You said a man named Stringer caused it. But a But that was over a century from now!a Her eyes glared. aGeorge Harvey Stringer, the all-time champion killer of humans, was Harvey Gambel Stringeras great-grandson.a I gripped my chair arm. aAre you certain?a aIn my last year as Ellen I made a careful study of the Stringer family. A secondary reason for my reversion was to interfere with the Stringer success if I could find a way.a She took a deep breath. aPerhaps Iave found it. Harvey Gambel Stringer cannot yet have fathered Maurice Stapleton Stringer.a Alice was the first to see where this was heading. She rose to her feet, came to sit beside the angry woman and placed an arm over her shoulder. aPlease, Clara. I have only a glimmer of what this means to you, since I canat see it from the other side. But please donat start planning anything that could harm you!a Clara snarled, aIam a woman! What does a woman know about eliminating dangerous men?a aWell,a I contributed in a stab at humor, ait takes a woman to make one.a Clara stared at me with huge eyes. Apparently my flippant remark had suggested something. aIt takes a woman and a man,a she mused significantly.

aAre you on to something?a I asked.

aMaurice Stringer was born in 1978. His son, Harvey Perle Stringer, was born in 2036. George Harvey Stringer came along in 2084. These Stringer men are late begetters. The records showed clearly that some, Harvey Gambel among them, were latent h.o.m.os.e.xuals. Suppose our Harveyas inclinations were brought to the fore. From what Iave seen around here, this is the place for it.a Alice got it first. aMake him a misogynist!a she declared.

Clara nodded. aAt least a man to whom women are not very interesting.a aBrainwas.h.i.+ng?a I asked. Yeah, an anachronism, but I was among friends.

aIn his case more of a crystallization.a Her expression had changed. She was almost smiling. I had to chuckle. aHow would you accomplish that?a Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. aFirst I must meet the man. Perhaps you could invite your new friend, Rosalind and date, to dinner. No, thatas too intimate.a I was wondering what she meant when Alice suggested, aItas December already. How about a neighborhood Christmas party?a Claraas face lit. aA Christmas costume party! Harvey Gambel was known to be shy and retiring. Even self-conscious people like costume parties. And weall schedule it just before the Christmas shut-down.a aI guess Tim and I could be elves,a Alice mused, abut whoall we find for Santa Claus?a aDonat worry,a Clara responded confidently. aIf necessary Iall hire one. And weall get a phonograph with some good dance music. We can set up the hors-daoeuvres in the kitchen and let everyone mill around between there and the living room. Weall also invite half a dozen of the neighbors.a aIt might even be fun,a Alice suggested with a grin. aI think Iall dress as an Irish dwarf and get drunk. Or maybe go even farther.a She looked askance at me. aIf Tim means to chase this Rosalind, Iall bet I can find me a leprechaun.a * * *