10

NEW LEADERSHIP

Jesse Cain Brothers

            Audley woke early, eager for the day.   She dressed quickly in a blue djellaba then adorned herself with the lapis lazuli necklace she had brought back with her from Guadix.  Her wristwatch hadn’t worked since the blackout and she saw no clock, but it felt early.  When she opened the draperies, the phenomenon she beheld filled her with wonder, for the sun, rising on the polyglass bubble, created a prism effect, bouncing multi-colored lights everywhere.  She rushed out onto the lawn as if into a psychedelic rain.

            Lanon, with Angus' advisement about romance fresh in his mind, awaited her.

            Seeing him, she exclaimed, "Isn't it beautiful?"

            "Yes, it is," he said, enjoying her delight.  "Jesse and I watched it yesterday while we waited for you to get here."

            "Wow," she said, “It happens at sunset, too?”  The sun had risen high enough that the prism effect was starting to subside.  Alas, her romanticism was not. 

            He nodded obligingly.  "You’re looking radiant this morning,” he said, gently touching her shoulder. 

            She immediately blushed.  As he looked at her more closely, to admire her sudden high color, she nervously fondled the gem in the pit of her throat before setting off determinedly toward the headquarters high-rise.

             “Where are you going?” he asked in his double entendre.

            “Oh,” she smiled.  “I’m going to talk to Jesse about my new job with the JCP.”

            “I'll walk with you," he said, leading her on.  “I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy it.” 

            Her shoulder tingled where he had touched her.  Last night she had felt sorry for herself.  This morning she felt like a lucky girl.  "Where's Angus?" she asked.

            "Jesse took him on a tour of headquarters.  They wanted to do it before the Elders got up.”  Already many of the Zooid Elders were making their way across the lawn to the dining rooms for breakfast.  “Angus is self-conscious about his appearance -- or should I say his lack of appearance -- and doesn't want to alarm anyone."

            "It’s funny, but nobody noticed him while we were traveling," she remarked.  "At least no one reacted to him."

            "Angus won’t go unnoticed in the colonies,” he assured her.  “Zooids actually look at each other.”

            "I don’t know how he’ll he be able to help me with my research if he's afraid of being seen," she complained.

            "It’s not that Angus is afraid to be seen,” Lanon clarified.  “He doesn’t want to frighten anyone.  If people don’t understand how he’s put together, they might think he’s a ghost or something.  Anyway, in due time he’ll be properly introduced, and then he’ll be able to function more fully."

            “What are you going to do today?” 

            "Some of the Board members are meeting to talk about the construction of a new building and Jesse wants me to sit in on it."

            "Well, ...”  She lowered her eyelids.  “I’d better get up to Jesse’s office.  It’s almost time.” 

            Lanon was intrigued by the mystery in her gesture.  How odd that by shielding her gaze from him, he was able to catch a glimpse of the woman within!  As he stood dumbfounded, the elevator door opened and she fled.

            On the ride up, Audley chided herself for acting silly but still, she loved feeling all girlish and goose-bumpy.  Lanon had been so attentive, so human, and so romantic!  She mused,  ”Maybe it’s not so impossible.” 

            She sought a glimpse of him from the view at the top but he was nowhere to be seen.  Instead, Jesse strode across the deck to greet her, as fresh and free as the morning air.  He seemed so invigorated, so vital, Audley wondered if he, too, might be in love.

            "Good morning, Audley!" 

            "Good morning, Jesse."

            "You look especially radiant this morning," he remarked, leading her toward his suite. "No sign of jet lag.  You slept well?” 

            "Yes, I did,” she responded excitedly.  “And I woke up well, too.  That prism effect is enough to make a person want to get up every day before dawn!  It’s wonderful!”

            "Yes, it was a happy accident of construction."  Since the bubble shielded the inhabitants from inclement weather, and since doors and windows against the elements were unnecessary, he led her through an open archway into his office and showed her to a chair at a small table.  "Have you had breakfast?" he asked.

            "I’d love a cup of coffee."

            “Help yourself,” he said, waving to a tray of breakfast rolls, fruit, coffee and juice. 

            As she stirred cream into the rich dark coffee, Jesse busied himself opening the doors of the panel across from her to reveal a wall of charts, graphs and maps of the JCP.  At once Audley’s ebullience gave way to professionalism.  She took out her notebook as Jesse sat next to her.

            "I contacted Weinberger," he said.

            "You did?”  She scowled.  “What for?"

            "He has agreed to carry your series."

            "Really!?"  She grinned. For some reason, she thought Weinberger would be mad at her for quitting.  "How did you come to choose the Silent Majority?"

            He shrugged.  "Why not?  It's a good publication, reaches a good cross-section of thinking people who are most likely to respond to issues like ecology, education, transportation, and the like.  Do you have a problem with him?"

            "No!  I’ve always worked well with Weinberger."

            "That's what he said."  Jesse turned his attention to the keyboard on the table in front of him, tapping keys until a map of the United States, dotted with colored pins, appeared on the screen.  "You'll see on the Legend there on the bottom right what the colors of the pins represent.  The big purple one there is Gateway and the black one is Penn State Reserve.  Green is agriculture, yellow is education, orange is industrial, red is residential and blue is cultural.”

            Audley began writing notes.

            "Oh, you won't need that," he said, indicating her notebook.  "All this I'm telling you can be gotten from any TASC.  That stands for Transmit/Access System of Communication and you will find TASCs everywhere throughout the colonies -- on all the Transport Lines, in every residence, everywhere.  They connect to everything in the JCP.  As soon as you learn how to work a TASC, you will have access to all the factual information you need."

            She was perplexed.  "What am I doing here, Jesse?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve got all the facts already, so what do you want me to do with them?  What’s the point?”

            "You're going to present the facts to the outside."

            "Why not get your own Zooids to present the facts?"

            "We’re already absorbed into it, already detached from outside living, but you're still close enough to the outside world that you will be able to connect with the readers.  Your articles will have more spontaneity than ours, since we are already ... ‘brainwashed’.”

            She grinned.  "So you want my slant."

            He nodded.  "Basically, yes.  Don’t overlook the fact that Lanon will be learning the emotional value of our society through your slant.  This way you’ll be helping him and at the same time you’ll be educating yourself and the reader as to zooidal ideologies, so you’ll be doing everyone a service.  For which you will be amply paid, I might add, thanks to the shrewd managerial skills of your friend Angus.”  He grinned, giving her the opening she needed.

            "Speaking of emotional value, Jesse, can I ask you a personal question?"

            "Sure.  Like I said, Zooids don't have secrets."

            "Are you married?"

            "Nope.  Never have been."

            "You have a girlfriend?"

            "No."

            "Why not?"  Her question sounded impertinent, even to herself.

            Jesse pulled himself up, clasped his long fingers under his chin and allowed himself a slight scowl.  "I guess because I'm married to the Zooids, Audley.  I've devoted my whole life to this project."

            "Yeah, but everybody needs a personal life," she objected.

            "The JCP is my personal life.  I find it very satisfying."

            "Satisfying in terms of accomplishment, maybe, but wouldn't you enjoy the company of a woman?  And don't tell me you have the company of a lot of women.  I know you do.  Me, for instance.  I'm talking about a personal partner."

            He leaned back in his chair.  "To that I’d have to say that, yes, if the right woman ever came along, I'd bite.  I would like to have a personal soul mate, a female companion, but I don't know of any woman who would put up with my almost obsessive dedication to my work.  She would have to be as committed to the Zooids as I am, or as committed to something as I am.  And even if she was as committed, there's so much that has gone on that she missed, so much of my life that has been lived without her...."

            "But a woman committed to your interests, Jesse, would feel as if she had known you all her life!  Those little details of our past, our childhood and our experiences, those are not what makes a person who she is.  Anyway, I'm sure she would bring her own riches to the union, her own experiences, that would make her the right one for you."

            Jesse nodded.  "Yes, I'm sure you’re right, but I haven't met her yet.  It's not as though I've ruled it out, mind you."  His eyes flashed a mischievous twinkle.  "I'm rather normal in that regard."

            Audley bet he was.  He was certainly attractive.  “Don't you get lonely?"

            He sat up and turned to the wall of charts and graphs. "I don't have time to get lonely.  I keep busy."

            She sat shoulder to shoulder with him.  "Okay," she said, turning back to business, "so you want me to gear this to the outside reader.  Am I selling the colonies?"

            "No, but you are selling some of our concepts, techniques and ideals.  There are people out there who think like we do, and we want to let them know we're here and that we're available for them to investigate."

            "Okay.  Where do I start?"

            "You might start with an introductory article on the Zooids in general.  Tell them who we are, what we're trying to do."

            "Can you fill me in a little here?  Professor Vessey gave me a lot of background on how the concept of the JCP got started, but he didn't go into how the actual physical organization came about.  I know that your father died and you had to leave Knossos and come back to the States and take over his business."

            "Well, yeah."  He poured a glass of water and swirled the ice cubes.  "I was trained for the job before anybody even knew what the job would be."

            This time when Audley took out her notebook he didn't object.

            “My parents had ambitions for me, their firstborn.  Mother wanted me to be a spiritual leader, so from her I received my moral and religious training.  Father was a pragmatist who wanted me to be a financial wizard, a corporate giant, and so he taught me how to organize people, how to manage money, how to play politics. 

            Now, you’ve got to understand that this was no small ambition that my parents had!  They were influential in our community, and their enthusiasm was contagious.  Their messianic zeal convinced their friends and neighbors that great things would come of me.  As such, all my childhood friends and our activities were governed according to our parents’ dreams.  These people had a concept of what kind of success we ought to be and they were fairly ruthless in seeing it get underway.”

            “Pretty amazing,” she allowed. 

            "The amazing thing is not so much what our parents did, but what we boys did!  We took our friendship very seriously.  Maybe our way of finding our own identity, in the face of the scheme that our parents had ordained for us, was to override their scheme with one of our own.  Oh, we did all the things that boys do, of course.  We built our tree houses and river rafts.  We played our sports and later, in high school, we dated the same girls.  But we were united somehow in a very special sense.  We were committed to our friendship above all things.  Our real success was in our loyalty to each other and to the social stability that resulted.

            “As a result, we grew up developing into true Zooids.  We upheld each other.  We only went as far as the weakest one of us could go and then we would all turn our attention to the weak one and pull him up.  We discovered that each of us had inherent strengths to compensate for our innate weaknesses.  The zooidal way of life was ingrained in us by the nature of our friendship long before we went away to college.

            "Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I was in my last year at Knossos University when my father died unexpectedly, and I came back to the United States to take over my father’s business.  I had to take my final exams through the mail.  My father’s business holdings were fairly significant.  Part of his conglomerate was a construction firm.  His staff was kept on as Trustees, and they were able to continue that enterprise, but other, smaller holdings were either sold off or brought into the colony concept."

            Jesse walked to the window and gazed at the distant horizon. "Peter, Andrew, James and John finished their schooling and were ready to throw in with me in developing some of the ideas I had brought back with me from the long-term association I had Professor Vessey, my academic mentor at Knossos, but the project was interrupted by the war.  We all went."

            He paused for a long moment, lost in reverie, and at length resumed, "That's really another story," he said, "but through that experience, our loyalty to each other was deepened, cemented. We were all profoundly affected by the times.  We realized how - in a very real sense - we were the times.   We realized we could change the times.

            “We got back together and discussed the current social ideologies and discovered that there were enough of us who were fed up with racial injustices, political assassinations, ecological rape, the unequal distribution of wealth, moral bankruptcy, war...  war!  That was the biggest affront to human dignity of all!”  He paused.  “We knew there were enough people who were fed up with the way things were, that we could actually do something about it.

            “At first we believed that we could change the system just by espousing our ideals, by living them, but we got swallowed up by the reigning culture and spit out along with the ideals we held as worthwhile.  We learned by experience that in order for us to survive, that is, for our values to survive, we would have to set ourselves apart."

            Jesse returned to the table and sat. "Along the way we were joined by Nathaniel and Phillip, and when the seven of us came together we were committed to the job we would undertake. The Jural Colony Project was underway."

            "What was the first one?" she asked, not giving him a chance to slow down.

            “I had been in communication with Alexius all this time and at some point he began giving us suggestions. His first suggestion was that we begin with what we had, so we first met at the family beach house in La Jolla.  It was much too big for Mother alone, so we met there.  After we outgrew it, we sold it and used the proceeds to start our next colony.

            “We soon recognized that our combined educational resources wouldn't be enough to cover the growing needs of the JCP.  I instructed each of my six associates to find one person whose ideal of brotherly love was sufficient to join with ours.  As a testimony to our resolve, we each changed our given name to Brothers, even the women.”

            “Speaking of women, what happened to your mother?”

            “She’s a Zooid Elder.  She lives here at Gateway."

            “And the twelve?”

            “They still serve as the Board of Directors.”

            "So when did PSR come into the picture?" she prompted.

            "PSR was our first project, for several reasons.  The prison system, as it existed in the United States at that time, was long overdue for re-evaluation and overhaul.  And the US Justice Department was more than willing to allow for experimentation.  We applied for sizeable grants to get it started.  One of those paid for the initial services provided by your father, who set up the tests and administered them to prisoners in penal institutions throughout the country who were open to experimentation and rehabilitation.  The ones we selected were willing subjects who could be observed and whose behavior could be modified most effectively under controlled circumstances."

            "So the JCP, like the original 13 colonies, was settled by criminals?"

            "No.  Long before we finished the first phase of PSR we had enough people interested in what we were doing --   people we knew, people who had heard of us, who wanted to help, sight unseen -- to start our first real colony which was Colony Origin in California.”

            "Did you call yourselves Zooids at that time?"

            "Oh, yes.  From the very beginning."     

            "Didn't that attract a lot of weirdoes?  I mean, when I first heard the word ‘zooid’ I looked it up, and all I could imagine were millions of little bugs or amoebas crawling around, maybe like a colony of ants, all marching in a row or milling around like mindless eight-legged creatures."

            Jesse laughed.  "Sometimes we were mindless.  There were times we were so tired we could hardly see.  We just kept putting one foot in front of the other and trudged on.  Working together, though, like we did, we somehow pulled each other up and carried each other forward."

            "What were the early Zooids like?"

            He grinned.  "They had youth and idealism.  It was a great era," he reminisced.  "There were a lot of young people who threw in with us for something to do but there were old people who seemed to have been waiting for us all their lives.  Many of the vets found out about us when they came back, as did the draft evaders and the girls who waited for them at home.  They had a lot of hope, a lot of dreams.” 

            Audley interjected,  "A lot of drugs, too, I’d bet.”

            Jesse scowled.  “Yes, and we lost some of them when they learned we would not build our Brave New World on chemicals.  Most of them appreciated the fact that we were on a natural high, intent on actually doing something about society's ills, so every once in awhile we'd have a big party and burn all the paraphernalia and drugs to celebrate our mutual purpose.  Those parties were the origin of our annual celebrations.”

            "You still have them?"

            "Yes, we have four Fests a year, one for each season.  You'll be here for the Fest this fall.  You'll enjoy it."  He stood up.

            "Where is it?"

            "It's everywhere!  All the colonies celebrate Fests at the same time.  It's like a fair.  It lasts a whole week.  We have arts and crafts, we dress in costumes and sing and dance.  Each season has it's own theme.  Fall Fest, as you can imagine, is a harvest, a celebration of fruition."  

            She, too, stood.  "What about regular holidays, like Christmas?"

            "Those are up to the individual.  Zooids come from all races, all cultures, all religions, and they all have their own heritage and holidays that they celebrate as they wish, like Christmas and Cinco de Mayo and Hanukkah, but those are individual.  The JCP has only the four celebrations a year.  Otherwise, we're a very busy group of people.  And speaking of busy," he said, "I'm very late for another meeting.  You've distracted me by these reminiscences."

            "That's what makes me such a good reporter," she said.  "I get people talking."  She put her tablet away.  "So what shall I report on and what should I keep quiet about?"

            "After your introduction, why don't you just start with the Transport Lines?  Everyone who pays car insurance will find our system has value.  Also, get a pass from one of the Aides then take a trip or two and see how it works.  And you should familiarize yourself with the TASC so you can get the facts you need, but don't get into our financial system just yet, or our calendar.  And, of course, don't expose Lanon or his mission with us.”

            "Of course."

            "Why don't you get Angus to show you how the TASC works?"

            "Where is he?  I thought he was with you."

            Jesse pressed a button and the misty visage of Angus appeared on a screen in front of them.  "I've been with you all this time," he said.  "Come down to the sixth floor, Audley.  I want to show you something!"

            Jesse led the way out to the deck, saying,  “Angus is very impressed with our computer. He can see almost everything that's going on without anyone seeing him."

            "What’s to worry?” she laughed.  “They can hardly see him anyway!” 

            "By the way," he added.  "You can move your things into the employee wing whenever you want to.” 

            "Okay.  Where can I go to smoke a cigarette?"

            Jesse grinned and shook his head.  "Go to any TASC and press the button marked Vent."

            "Is there a TASC in here?" she asked when Angus met her at the door of the Terminal.

            "The whole floor is a TASC!" he said, anxious to show off his findings.  "What do you want to know?  Anything!"           

            "Where’s a Vent?  I want to smoke a cigarette."

            "Right this way."

            Off the elevator shaft, a small balcony perched over the grounds.  She sat in one of the two director’s chairs and lit up a Spring as Angus hit the Vent button overhead.  Propping her feet on the rail, she asked, "So what does your keen sense perception tell you about all this, Angus?"

            "I think the JCP is high-tech for a reason,” he said.  “If this weren't such a dense and finite realm, I'd expect the communication channel which Lanon has come to open up, to be opened in the minds of the mortals.   But, since we are dealing with finite creatures here -- very dense, finite creatures -- I think it'll be done by way of the TASCs."

            "Oh, yeah?"

            "Yeah!  Think about it," he suggested.  "And you might also think about someone you could recommend to do the programming."

            She thought of Brad at once, of course.  She refused to encourage his involvement, however, because Brad was technically still on the trail of a reason for the August 14th blackout, and she didn't feel comfortable letting Brad get too close to Lanon.

            "Oh, I'm sure the JCP has programmers that can do the job," she remarked, snuffing the half-smoked cigarette in a 'receptacle'.

            “Come!” he said, leading her back into the Terminal.  The massive room was sterile and cold, in spite of the monstrous amounts of energy that must be throbbing through its myriad cords, blinking lights and surging discs.  Overwhelmed by the Terminal's impressive size and power, she shivered.  "Angus!  This damned room is alive!  I can hear it breathing!"

            "It's ventilating itself to keep cool," he assured her.

            "It's working!” she remarked. “It’s ice cold in here.  Can we go?"

            Angus had been watching the blinking lights and shiny steel panels in abject fascination of what was going on behind the scenes.  "It's cold you say?"  He turned to see Audley shivering behind him.  "Oh, I beg your pardon.  I have no sense of temperature.  Come on."

            Outside the main Terminal room, he was eager to show her to one of the many private cubicles where a TASC stood perched on its own torso, ready to instruct.  "I hate computers," she complained.

            "You won't hate this one.  It's 'user friendly'."

            She laughed at his ability to appreciate modern jargon.  "So what do all these buttons mean?  Don't I have to log on or something?  Shouldn't I have a password?"

            "It's already on.  You just tell it what you want to know about.  Anything at all.”

            "Alright."  Audley went straight to the TASC Index and looked up Zooid Finances.  At once she realized why Jesse didn't want her to reveal to the world at large that every Zooid's accredited worth was on display for anyone who cared to see.  Zooids did not pay rent nor mortgage payments, did not pay utility bills nor any kind of insurance.  They had no money, in fact, but functioned with acquired economic credits.  Debt was not permissible. 

            All transactions were recorded in the TASC at once.  She and millions of other people in the outside world often wrote checks on empty accounts in anticipation of a payroll deposit.  In the colonies, such would not be possible.  By the same token, such need would be unlikely, for every new Zooid began life in the JCP as a colonist with 1,000 credits, indicating they were regarded as an asset.  It was virtually impossible to find a way to squander so many credits.  What it boiled down to was that no Zooid ever had to experience financial anxiety, since their needs were all met by virtue of being a resident, as part of the organism.

            She could not help but notice, using her father as an example, that the financial records of financial institutions outside the JCP were not in the TASC.  Thus she could plainly see that although Doc Will had amassed well over 45 million credits during the years he had worked with the JCP, the TASC gave no indication of his balance at the Santa Barbara Savings and Loan.

SYLVIA AND BRAD stopped for lunch in Barstow.  They had driven all morning, each deep in thought about what they had gotten themselves into.  That they were in constant physical contact, either Sylvia resting her hand on Brad's leg or vice versa, indicated to both of them that they were totally conjoined, so neither of them had any doubt or regret about their union.  It's just that each of them had thoughts to ponder as to how their relationship would affect others.        

            The farthest thing from Sylvia's mind was Roger.  For all her cultural conditioning, she had absolutely no regrets about having committed adultery, for as far as she was concerned, Brad was her mate.  Never had she been so sure of anything in her life.  Never had she felt so good.  Never had life appeared so wonderful.  Even the fact that she had emotionally abducted her best friend's fiancé didn't bother Sylvia.  For years she had seen Audley toy with Brad's affections and she was tired of it.  It's not that Audley didn't deserve a fine man like Brad.  Audley deserved the best.  But not Brad.  Brad was hers.  If Audley had felt about Brad as Sylvia did, she would not be roaming around the country looking after a man from outer space.

            For surely, Lanon Zenton was the uppermost concern in Sylvia's mind.  Doc Will's notes, tucked securely in her purse, assured her that she had solved the question of what had caused the August 14^th blackout.  The potassium data, on top of her uncanny instincts, was proof enough for Sylvia, but what was she to do with this information?  Even though she felt confident about her findings, she held back from telling Brad.  She feared that if she told Brad, something terrible might happen.  She would wait and talk to Audley about it first.

            "You're quiet this morning," Brad observed, once they had ordered their meal.  "What's on your mind?"  He reached for her and they clasped hands across the table.

            "Oh, a lot of things, I guess," she admitted demurely.

            "You're not sorry, are you?"

            "About us you mean?  Oh, no, darling.  I'm not sorry about us.  I'm very happy."

            "Then what are you worried about?  Roger?"

            She stirred her tea.  "No.  In the long run Roger will be pleased.  Especially when he finds out I'm not going to make a mess of his life. For years I've just been a figurehead for him, anyway.  Now he’ll be able to find a woman who can fulfill all the functions of being his wife.”

            "You're worried about Audley, then."

            "Not really."  The meal was served, allowing her a moment to construct her words.  "She's not really committed to you, Brad, and you deserve better.  I think Audley, too, will be pleased in the long run.  It's a funny thing about women.  When they throw a man over, they worry that he'll be okay, and in this case, she'll know you're okay because you're with me.  It'll be a relief to her, really, when she finds out."  She buttered a roll.  "I'll tell her."

            Brad was relieved to hear that bit of insight into women's ways.  He had felt anxiety that Audley would throw a fit and the women's long-term friendship would be ruined.  His big concern was Doc Will.  Doc had his heart set on Audley's marriage and, more particularly, a grandchild.  It would not be easy to face Doc with this new development.

"Doc Will is going to think we're total degenerates," he said, chomping down on his club sandwich.

            She giggled.  "We didn't waste much time, did we?"

            He had to laugh, too.  "Didn't see any point!  Did you have designs on me, woman?  Had you been plotting to get me into bed?"

            She demurred.  "Well, Brad Spencer, what a thing to say!  I'm sure it was all your idea."

            He admitted, "It had crossed my mind."

            "Did it?  When?"

            "When?"  He finished off a pickle.  "That night we all had dinner at Doc Will's house and Audley suggested you might make a good Investigative Assistant. I had to look at you in a new light, and what I saw looked damned good."

            She nodded.  "I didn't know it until the night of my party.  By the way, did I thank you for the flowers you sent?"

            He leered at her.  "I feel you did."

            "It was very thoughtful.  And the check, of course."

            "The party was a success?"

            "In every respect.  It was a special celebration for me."

            "How so?"

            "My last hurrah as Mrs. Watergate. End of an era."

            "So you had made up your mind to make changes before you came to New York?"

            She blushed.  "Yes, I had made up my mind.  Fortunately for me, you had no objections."

            "No objections and no reservations."

            As they held hands across the table, Brad slipped Audley's diamond ring on Sylvia’s finger.  It fit perfectly.

DOC WILL SPENT MOST OF THE DAY in his room reviewing medical histories.  He didn't expect to find much there, but it gave him something to do.

            All of these recent developments proved to be too much for the old man.  He had gotten used to Lanon and, in fact, had started to find him interesting, but now there was another one, a different kind, this Angus, who was not even human but some kind of an apparition.  And Audley getting so involved.  It bothered him.

            It was too much too fast.  He was becoming increasingly crotchety, and it did not contribute to his peace of mind when he discovered, that afternoon, four small blisters on his forearms.

RETURNING TO THE INDEX for another dose of miscellany, Audley noted the date as 19-SATURN-25 and the time as 4:92.  "What’ with this clock?" she wondered. 

            The Zooid calendar had 13 twenty-eight day months. Each of the thirteen months was named for the planets and the phases of the moon.  Thus, respectively, the months were Nadir, Mercury, Venus, Urth, Ascent, Mars, Jupiter, Zenith, Saturn, Uranus, Descent, Neptune, and Pluto.   As far as holidays, Winter Fest was the first week of Nadir in the heart of winter, close to Christmas and Hanukkah.  Spring Fest was during the first week of Ascent, somewhere near the time of Easter and the Passover.  Summer Fest was in the first week of Zenith near summer solstice, and Fall Fest was in the first week of Descent, paralleling October. 

            The first week of each month without a Fest, was earmarked for transition and organization.  Transfers from one Colony to another were done during these weeks.  On the first Whole Man (Monday) of each month, including weeks of Fest, a regularly scheduled Board Meeting of the JCP gathered to establish, among other things, the production schedule for the next three weeks.

            Although the calendar made sense to Audley, she could not figure out the clock.  A Zooid unit of time was a Whole, comprised of Parts.  Beginning with the equivalent of Sunday, the days of the week called Whole Child, Whole Man, Whole Woman, Whole Family, Whole Group, Whole Union, and Whole Individual.

            Each zooidal day began at first light.  A winter day, having less light, was still a Whole, but it had fewer Parts; likewise, a summer Whole had many more Parts.   Thus the date 19-SATURN-25 was clearly a summer day, honoring the Whole Group, 25 years after the Zooids came into being. But she could not figure out why the clock read 5:20.  

            "Angus?  What's with this clock?"  Angus had disappeared, cloak and all.  "Damn," she muttered, concluding,  “It’s a good time for a break.”     

            In the lobby, intending to get a pass to ride on the Transport Line, she met Ellen, a freckle-faced, buxom lass of about 20.  Ellen had huge brown eyes and warm, rich amber hair that she wore in a single long braid over her formidable left breast.  As Ellen photographed her electro-chemical system for her I.D. on the Transport Lines pass, Audley asked the Aide about zooidal time.

            “Let’s see.  It’s 5:25, so if you got up in time for the sun dance, you should be getting hungry about now.”

            Audley grinned.  “Now that you mention it,” she said, “I could probably eat something.  But if you just do things when you feel like it, how do you get anything done?"

            "You actually get more done, Audley," Ellen said, "because you're motivated differently.  Here you don't have to do everything in a regimented way like they do on the outside.  You eat when you're hungry and sleep when you're tired, not because of a superimposed time structure but because that’s your natural pace.  The important thing is that it's all Part of the Whole.  The month is the important time frame.  Eating and sleeping take care of themselves, but the organizational week establishes the production schedule which is how we spend our lives."

            "I still don't know how you can keep track of what time it is."

            "Just live your life,” Ellen suggested with a knowing smile.  “Work and watch, and you will see that it is a better system.  In this way of life, time works with you and not against you."

            After she got her pass, she moved her things into her new quarters and began again to work at her given TASC.

AS ANGUS WALKED THE DESERT sands absorbing solar energy, he sensed the approaching lights of Sylvia and Brad, then made his way to the atrium to wait for their arrival.

            Brad drove the rental car on the sand-dusted roadway that ran atop the transport line from Las Vegas.  When the dome of Gateway appeared on the horizon, Sylvia gasped.  The oddity of the massive polyglass dome in the middle of the desert landscape seemed otherworldly to them both.     

            "Have you been here before, Brad?"

            "No, but Doc Will showed me some photos of it during its construction.”

            "I hope it's got air conditioning," she remarked, tucking her hand into Brad's groin.

            "Oh, it will," he assured her.  "It's got all the modern conveniences.  I understand the constant temperature wavers between 68 and 74 degrees."

            "How do we get in?" she wondered.

            "We've gotten this far," he assured her. "There's bound to be an opening in it somewhere."

            Spotting Angus’ hooded cloak, Sylvia pointed, "Look, Brad.  There's a sentinel."

            Brad grinned.  "I don't think there are any sentinels these days, Sylvia.  Maybe a guard."

            "What would they need a guard for?"

            "To keep strangers out, I guess."

            "We aren't strangers.  Are we?"

            "Now's a fine time to wonder but, no, I don't think they will turn us away."

            Angus directed them to an open glass door, which led into an atrium-like chamber whose platform lowered the car to the landing level where Brad parked.  It was cool and dark in the underground garage and their eyes, coming in from the blazing desert sun, were slow to adjust.  When they got out of the car, Angus stepped back a pace and gave his little bow, which thoroughly charmed Sylvia.  "I am Angus," he said in his rich voice.  "I am your temporary host.  You are a bright light and welcome to this place."

            Sylvia gave Brad's arm a squeeze.  Brad's instinct to shake hands was thwarted by Angus' distance and by the fact that their host kept his hands inside the sleeves of his umber robe.

            "Thank you, Angus.  I'm Dr. Brad Spencer and this is Sylvia Watergate.  We're friends of Dr. Blackstone and are given to understand that he's here at Gateway."

            "He is here," Angus acknowledged.

            "If he's available, we'd like to visit with him."

            "Wilhelm is in the clinic.  I'll tell him you are here.  Come with me."

            As they entered the elevator Sylvia asked, "Doc Will isn't sick, is he?"

            "I will let Wilhelm speak for himself," Angus said with a bemused smile.  It was then that they noticed for the first time that Angus was vaporous.  Although Sylvia found Angus charming and totally in keeping with her impression of what Zooids must be like, Brad was not amused.  His scientific background would not accept a shrouded mass of energy in the guise of a man.  Perhaps Doc Will would have a viable explanation.

            Angus deposited the guests in the lounge, with assurances they were to make themselves comfortable, while he went on up to the clinic.  There, on video screens in the lobby, he could see what was going on in each of the rooms on that floor.  He located Doc in one of the rooms engaged in an interview with one of the patients who had been diagnosed as having the mysterious pox. 

            As Angus focused energy on him, Doc Will twitched, as if something had tickled his ear.  He swatted the air towards the side of his head a couple of times then, as if curious, excused himself from the patient and entered the hall where Angus stood waiting.  Seeing him, Doc Will scowled.

            "You have visitors," Angus stated simply.

            "Visitors?  Who?"  Doc Will removed his lab jacket and ran his fingers through his unruly hair.

            "Dr. Spencer and Sylvia Watergate."  Angus knew Doc Will was uncomfortable alone in his presence.  He therefore stepped back a pace, deliberately remaining both physically and psychically removed.

            "What are they doing here?"  It was more of a mumble to himself than a comment to Angus.

            Angus ventured, "They've come for your blessing."

            "My what?"

            "Your blessing," Angus reiterated.

            "My blessing for what?"

            "Their union."

            The color drained from Doc Will's face. Nearby was a bench.  He gestured for Angus to sit with him for a moment.  When the two seniors sat down, Doc confronted his feelings.

            "Angus," he said. "I'm having a hard time with you."

            "I know you are," Angus sympathized.

            "I realize it's my problem and not yours, but can you enlighten me as to what my problem is?"

            Angus felt very kindly towards the old man.  "I could, and you could, too, if you weren't so stubborn."

            "I'm stubborn, huh?"

            Angus nodded.  They sat for a moment without speaking.

            "Actually," Angus said, "we're very much alike, you and I.  We both work in the same field.  We both have insights into people that sometimes we'd rather not have."

            Doc Will nodded.

            "The only difference is that I'm older than you," Angus suggested.

            "Well, that's not the only difference," Doc objected.

            "Oh, you think just because I'm less material than you that I'm so much different?"

            "Well, sure!"

            "All that is relative," Angus countered.  "Your old bones aren't that solid anymore, Doctor, and people looking into your eyes have to see through the cataracts and assume you can see them back, right?"

            Doc nodded begrudgingly.

            "Now, Dr. Spencer, who is a healthy young man, he has reason, perhaps, to distrust my form, but you are closer to me in form than he is.  You see?"

            "Of course I see," Doc snarled.  "I'm decrepit, and more gone than not."

            "Oh, now you're feeling sorry for yourself."

            "Well, dag nab it, I've got the damned pox!"

            "So on top of everything else, you're now worrying about dying."

            "Let's just say I'm thinking about it."

            "Dying is the least of your worries.  What you might want to do, though, since you're having these premonitions about dying, is to make your peace with the living."

            Doc Will harrumphed.

            "Are you manifesting any symptoms yet?"

            "No.  I just got the blisters.  God only knows what'll happen next.  The gestation period is three days."

            "As a doctor of Mindal Science, you should be able to predict your symptom and take care of it before it takes care of you."

            "Yes, I suspect so."  Doc Will began to relax, comfortable in the realm of Mindal Science, no matter with whom he spoke.

            "You've analyzed yourself before, of course." 

            Doc nodded.

            "Are you analyzing why it is you're putting off going to see your guests?" Angus nudged.

            "No, I'm not."

            "Aren't you willing to give them your blessing?"

            Angus was not surprised to see tears in Doc Will's eyes when he turned his ancient face to the apparition and said, "Audley and Brad were to be married.  It was my fondest dream that they would give me a grandson.  Now all this," he flapped his hands helplessly, "stuff has happened."

            "All this ‘stuff’!?  This is love, Wilhelm!  Love and life!  The woman is pregnant!"

            Doc blustered, "Already?"  He was miffed.

            "I'm sure of it.  Thirty-two hours."

            Doc Will demanded, "How can you tell?"

            "I can tell.  I have keen sense perception, remember?  I know life when I see it."

            "Then she can’t even know yet."

            "I doubt if she knows, but she wants the baby and will be happy to find out."

            "Don't tell her."  Doc was torn between his affection for Sylvia and Brad and his irritation that they had foiled his dreams.

            "You still haven't grasped the fact that your daughter's destiny is beyond your control."  When Doc Will didn't object, Angus continued.  "And what's more important, you haven't gotten yourself sufficiently out of the way to realize that you will have grandchildren.  One way or another, here or there, in one form or another you will have progeny, so quit holding up everyone else's happiness and your own through sheer stubbornness."

            "Oh, why am I even listening to you?" Doc grumbled.  "You're part of my problem!"

            "Oh, pooh, I am not and you know it.  You're just looking for something to grumble about.  Matter of fact, if I were a betting man, I'd bet that your symptom is going to be one of sheer cantankerousness.  If you want that on your conscience, you go ahead, but if I were leaving my loved ones, I'd want to go out in a good mood, and I'd give them all my blessing."

            Doc and Angus sat on the bench for a full five minutes before Doc heaved a mighty sigh and left the clinic.

            He entered the lounge to find a forlorn Brad sitting by himself.  "Is everything all right, son?" he asked as he approached.

            Brad quickly rose and, in spite of his misgivings, greeted his old friend warmly.  "Everything's fine," he said, but something in his manner belied his testimony.

            "How about a drink?" Doc offered.

            "Sure."

            Doc Will fixed them both a cocktail.  "Where's Sylvia?" he asked.  "Angus said she was here, too."

            "She went somewhere with Audley."

            "Martha told you I was here?"

            "Yeah.  Sylvia has a theory about the blackout that took us to Audley's.”  He accepted the drink and Doc’s proximity.  “Her house-sitter referred us to your place, and Martha directed us here." 

            "Is something wrong, Brad?"

            "No, I don't think so.  Just work."

            "Let's hear it."

            Brad recalled to Doc Will the "For Your Eyes Only" report and the photographs of the cosmic explosion on the night of the blackout with statistics on potassium explosions in particular.  He then reported to Doc about Sylvia's interview with Twilah Leighton and the soil samples registering potassium, and the metal detector also registering potassium in Audley's apartment.   Uppermost in Doc Will's mind was his notes reflecting Lanon's high potassium levels.  If Brad knew about those notes, he would have mentioned them as well.

             "Why do you suppose there was potassium in Audley's apartment?" Doc probed.

            "She had been in central Pennsylvania that night," Brad said, without tying it to Lanon.  "She may have been exposed somehow."

            "I see.  So Sylvia's theory is what?"

            "I don't know exactly.  She says it's just a hunch but she hasn’t told me what the hunch is."

            "You'd run all over the country on a woman's hunch?"

            Brad flushed.  "She's very convincing."

            "And very attractive, Brad."

            The young man cleared his throat.

            "There's possibly some recent development that I might be interested to know about?"

            "Like what?" Brad hedged.

            "Are you trying to act naive with me, Brad?  I wasn't born yesterday!"

            When Brad's eyes met Doc Will's, there was little question that he felt guilty about betraying the doctor, if not Audley.

            Doc Will patted Brad on the knee as he would a contrite boy.  "Oh, son," he said, "don't worry about me.  There are few things in life that would make me happier than seeing you happy, and if it is with Sylvia?  Hell, I couldn't ask for a better partner for you.  Sylvia is almost a daughter to me anyway."

            "I know how much you wanted a grandson," Brad confessed.

            "So what?  You and Sylvia might give me one."

            "You're not disappointed with me?"

            "Of course not.  If anything, I'm disappointed with myself for taking so long to see what makes so much sense.  Sylvia has been living in a vacuum far too long.  She needs someone like you and ... I'm very happy for you both."  He scowled, cleared his throat and pronounced, "You have my blessing."

            Brad was amazed at the size of the burden that lifted with those words.  He now sat quietly nursing his drink with his friend Dr. Blackstone at his side.  After a moment, they noticed Angus on the lawn talking with one of the Elders.  Doc Will recognized the old woman as one that had been diagnosed as having the pox and whose secondary symptom affected her vision.

            "Who is that, Doc?"

            "Angus?  He's an old fart, just like me."

            Brad laughed.  "Well, so you are, but at least I can see your face!"

            "He's alright."  Brad detected sour grapes in Doc Will's next remark:  "Look at him out there plying his trade."

            "Which is what?"

            Doc Will puffed himself up.  "He's a Grand Master of Mindal Sciences."  Then he rather mumbled, "Maybe I'll be like him when I grow up.”

HER EYES WATERING FROM PEERING into the TASC, her back aching from hunching into it with such absorption, and her head spinning from trying to retain it all, Audley walked out to have a swim and perhaps a smoke before dinner.  Assured by the Elders that her body-brief was appropriate for swimming, she was about to dive in when Sylvia called out, "Hi, Aud!"

            Hearing Sylvia's voice behind her, Audley spun around in half alarm, instinctively fearing Sylvia had come in pursuit of Lanon.  "Sylvia!  What are you doing here?"

            "Working on Brad's Presidential Assignment.  What are you doing here?"

            She would have to think on her feet.  "Actually, I'm working, too.  Jesse Brothers signed me up as a Journalist on Contract to do a series for the JCP."  She pulled on her djellaba and led Sylvia towards the employee wing.  "And not a moment too soon!  I quit Weinberger, you know."

            "No, I didn't," Sylvia said with a backward glance at Brad in the lounge.  "Fact is, I can't keep up with you these days."

            "How did you find me?" Audley asked, leading Sylvia along the escalator, a hard knot at home in her stomach.

            Sylvia's eyes were busy taking in the impressive overhead dome and the manicured lawn.  "We went to your apartment yesterday and your house-sitter told us you’d be gone for awhile so we went to Martha's and she said Doc Will and his patient had come here.  I figured if Lanon was here, you probably would be, too."

            "Who's 'we'?" Audley scowled.

            "Brad and me."  Inside the room, Sylvia sat stiffly on one of the upholstered chairs, while Audley busied herself compulsively folding things and moving them from here to there. Sylvia could read Audley’s mannerisms like a book.  "Sit down and talk to me. Where's Lanon?" she asked.

            "He's in a meeting with Jesse," Audley said, sitting.  "They're working on plans for a new building or something."  She lit a cigarette. "So much has happened since I saw you last, Sylvia, I don't know where to begin!"  She got up, went to the fridge.  "How do you like my new digs?  Not bad, huh, for institutional living!"  She poured them each a glass of juice.  "I went to Spain, Sylvia!"  She rummaged for cheese and crackers.  "I can't begin to describe the trip.  I met the most fascinating people!"  She brought the tray of refreshments back and sat them on the table while Sylvia watched her, enjoying Audley's anxiety.  "Oh, my God, Syl, I forgot about your party!" 

            "Never mind about the party," Sylvia said.  "I need to talk to you about something." 

            Audley sat.  "About what?"  The knot in her stomach turned into a hot coal. 

            "As you suggested, I've been working as Brad's Investigative Assistant and I've come up with something I'm not sure what to do with."

            "What?"

            "I think your friend Lanon caused the black-out."

            "He didn't."      

            Sylvia noticed how quickly and with what conviction Audley defended him.  Her hunch was that Audley had suspected the same thing at some point.  "I think I can prove it," she persisted.

            "But he didn't cause the black-out!"  She couldn't very well say it was just a coincidence.  She couldn't really say anything.  Nor could she allow Sylvia to pursue this avenue of thought.  "Who have you told about this?  Far-fetched as it is."

            "No one yet."

            "Not even Brad?"

            Sylvia shook her head.  "I wanted to talk to you first."

            "Thank God."  Her appreciation for their friendship was immense.  "Please don't tell him."

            "Why not?"

            "Because he might believe you.  He's grasping at straws."

            Sylvia flared.  "He is not!"          

            In that instant, Audley saw the whole scenario.  Sylvia was in love with her fiancé.   She demanded, "You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

            Sylvia turned crimson.

            "Aren't you?!"

            "Yes."  She shifted her hand conspicuously, exposing the diamond.

            Audley felt like she had been sucker-punched.  "You traitor!”

            Sylvia rallied.  "Audley, how can you say such a thing?  How can you even think such a thing?  Brad and I love each other!  Anyway, aren't you sleeping with Lanon?"

            "No," Audley replied, full of self-righteousness.

            "Well, it isn't because you don't want to," Sylvia countered, “so what are you getting so huffy about?"

            Right now Audley had more pressing concerns.  "I'm jealous, alright?  Anyway, what makes you think Lanon caused the black-out?"

            "Because of the potassium and because he's got super-powers."

            She danced right past the potassium.  "Super-powers!"  Audley stood up to think and pace. "This job has gone to your head, Sylvia.  You should be writing script for Star Trek, not looking into governmental intrigue!"

            "That's why you're scared, isn't it?" Sylvia demanded.  "You're afraid the government will find out that Lanon is an alien and they'll take him away from you!"

            Audley sat and faced her accuser.  "Do you know how ridiculous you sound?"

            "It may sound ridiculous, but it's true, isn't it?"  She defied Audley to contradict her theory.  "Isn't it?"

            Audley sat dumbly.  She couldn't figure Lanon out. Her father hadn't been able to figure him out.  How had Sylvia?

            The morose expression on Audley's face told Sylvia that some serious girl talk was required.

            "Aud, who are these guys, really?"

            "What guys?"

            "Lanon!  And now Angus."

            "Lanon is a man with a mission and Angus is some kind of higher up mucky-muck who studies brain waves or something.  They come from two entirely different places and are working on two entirely different things."

            "I'm worried about you."

            "Don't worry."

            "How do you know they won't hurt you?  You don't know anything about either of them."

            "Oh, yes I do!  Dad tested Lanon thoroughly and found him to be completely human, and Angus is wonderful, really, Sylvia, and so fascinating.  He came with me from Spain.  We've been together for days and he's an absolute dear."

            "What about the fact that he's nearly invisible?"

            "It's some kind of phenomenon called Ultimaton Aggregation.  Just because you can't see him doesn't mean he isn't real!"

            Sylvia studied her friend’s reactions a long time before she sighed resignedly.  "Well, speaking of real, Aud, I'm totally head over heels for Brad.  I hope you're not mad."

            She was so relieved to be off the topic of Lanon, she nearly collapsed.  "Of course I'm not mad.  I'm very happy for you both.  Anyway, it's obvious that Brad was ready for a relationship and it sure as hell wasn't going to be with me."

            "Audley, you're nuts. How can you throw over a man like Brad for a guy from outer space?"

            "Sylvia, quit it!  Lanon is flesh and blood of the highest and finest order.  He is absolutely mortal.  Dad had him under a microscope for over a week and could find nothing different about him at all.   Nothing at all!"

            "Except the potassium."

            "What about potassium?"

            Sylvia retrieved the stolen notes from her purse and read Doc Will's commentary:  "high potassium levels tapered to normal on the eighth day."

            "So?"

            "Eighth day after what?  After the blackout.  And there were traces of potassium on your sofa where Lanon slept and there was potassium in the soil sample I took from the UFO landing site in central Pennsylvania."

            Audley was so impressed with Sylvia's investigative abilities, she burst into laughter.  "UFO landing site!"

            Sylvia was not amused.  "What's so funny?"

            "’UFO landing site’.  That's hysterical!"  She enjoyed a deep, cleansing belly laugh.

            "Stop it!  Quit laughing at me."

            "Oh, that's a good one.  UFO landing site."  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.  "You really think Lanon is an alien who arrived in a flying saucer."

            "Yes, I do."  Sylvia was adamant.  She was not about to discard her theory or her research simply because Audley didn't want her to think so."

            "Lanon Zentonovitch is from Russia," Audley corrected, taking Alexius' data from the dossier.

            "Right.  And I'm Sylvia Waterfall from Kenya, Africa."

            "He is!" Audley insisted.

            "How do you know?  I thought he had amnesia."

            "He did.  Now he remembers."  She snatched the notes from Sylvia's hands and read Doc Will's commentary.  Sylvia hadn't intended to break the news to Audley of the patient's sterility.  After a moment she snatched the notes back and stuffed them into her purse.

            "So what about Angus?" Sylvia persisted.  “What’s he all about?”

            "I don't know about Angus.  Anyway, I'm not in love with Angus, so what difference does it make?

            Sylvia probed hard enough to capture Audley's attention.  "You know a lot more than you're telling me, Audley Blackstone."

            "Sylvia," Audley said, "I don't know what to say.  I met Angus in a cow pasture in a tiny village in the southern part of Spain.  He says he studies psychism.  He says he has keen sense perception and that he sees people by their light.  I don't know what that means.  Maybe he's a Tibetan Monk or something.  You met him.  What do you think?"

            Sylvia admitted, "I thought he was totally charming."

            "I'm sure he thought you were, too."

            "But are you sure you're safe?"

            "I am one hundred and one percent certain!  I've never been more certain of anything in my life."  She took Sylvia's hand.  "Sylvia," she said, "something very special is going on and I'm being made a part of it.  I'm not so much scared that you're going to tell the government about Lanon, as I'm scared something will happen to stop this wonderful thing that I'm being included in.  I'm not even sure what it is, but Sylvia, I believe it to be important.  You know what I mean?  I mean really important."

            Sylvia looked at her friend whose face was more earnest and sincere than she would have believed possible.  She looked into those green eyes for a long moment then squeezed her fingers.

            "It's important to you, Audley, and that's what matters."

            After another long moment they stood, embraced, and walked back to the lounge together.

ON THE PATIO BY THE POOL, Lanon watched their approach.  Sylvia waved. "Hi, Lanon," she called.  It was easy to see why Audley was so completely taken with him.  He was so handsome and charismatic.

            "Hi, Sylvia," he said, kissing her cheek.  "You look great."

            "Thanks.  I feel great," she purred.  She looked better than ever.  Her face had the warm glow of sun-ripened peaches and her hair fell in loose folds over her shoulders.  The blue of her eyes was nearly as deep as Lanon's.  She admitted to herself that if it were not for Lanon's prompting, she would still be reading magazine photo arrays and fantasizing about what she was now experiencing.  No wonder she was having a hard time exposing him to Uncle Sam.

            "What brings you into the colonies?" he asked.  Audley drew up and stood by him.

            "Brad wanted to see Dr. Blackstone.  I left him in the lounge.  He should be there.  Would you like to meet him?"

            "Yes, I would.  I've been looking forward to discussing the future with him."

            As Sylvia preceded them into the lounge, she explained, "The Institute of Futurology has temporarily disbanded, Lanon.  I'm afraid Brad's future is up for grabs."

            Brad and Doc Will watched them come in, Sylvia leading with her left hand, Audley and Lanon together.  As Brad and Doc stood, Brad felt almost grateful.  It appeared that all the details had been worked out.

            "Hi, Brad," Audley said with a grin.  "Fancy meeting you here."

            "Fancy."  The two young men appraised each other.

            "I want you to meet Lanon Zenton.  Lanon, Brad Spencer."

            "It's good to meet you, Dr. Spencer," Lanon said, shaking Brad's hand.  "I've been wanting to talk to you about your work."

            "Sit down, everybody," Audley urged.  "I'll fix us a drink."

            Brad, with Sylvia at his side, laughed.  "My work is temporarily suspended, I'm afraid.  That is, my work with the IOF."

            "What’s happened with the Institute?" Lanon asked.

            Doc Will could see that the ring on Sylvia's hand was not the Watergate wedding ring, but Audley's engagement ring.  He was fairly amazed at the finesse with which the exchange had taken place, almost as if it were a given, and he was the last to know.

            Brad edified Lanon.  "The August 14^th black-out was to have been averted by the IOF and when it happened anyway, the President was ... unhappy.  The IOF elected me to represent them at a special session at the White House, which I attended and at which I was given the dubious honor of finding out why the black-out occurred in the face of our efforts, given the fact that the IOF did everything in it's power to prepare the government for the blackout in the first place.  It's pretty clear to me that the government screwed up in not following the directives we outlined and is now trying to make the IOF the scapegoat."

            "So the IOF predicted the black-out," Lanon reiterated.

            "Yes.  Months in advance."

            "And still they requested this investigation?"

            "Required it, actually. So until we find out what happened, the IOF is shut down.  Unless, of course, I can present them with some kind of plausible answer and, barring some inner-galactic disturbance, I doubt I'll be able to solve the mystery."

            "You have reason to think it might be inner-galactic?"

            "Well, Sylvia seems to think it might.  She's been looking into potassium explosions."

            Lanon was amused.  "Sylvia, you clever woman!  We must have a little talk about your knowledge of potassium."

            Sylvia turned three shades of crimson.  He was so charming, how could he possibly be an alien?

            "Have you considered the UCLA offer, Brad?"  Audley asked.

            "It's been in the back of my mind."

            "What offer is that, Brad?" Sylvia asked, admiring the glint of light in the diamond. 

            Her toying with the ring did not go unnoticed.  Brad flashed an appreciative grin to Audley before saying, "I've been offered a teaching position at UCLA."

            "There is merit to that," Audley suggested.  "You could even live in Beverly Hills!"

            "Oh, no, Aud," Sylvia interjected. "I have no intention of living in that house.  Nor would I saddle Brad with the maintenance of such a monstrosity.  I've left that life entirely.  My life is now as up for grabs as Brad’s."

            Doc Will had a sudden thought.  "Audley, why don't you take Sylvia and see if you can find Angus.  Ask him to join us for a few minutes.  I'd like him to have a chance to visit with Brad before the Elders come in for dinner."

            "Sure," she complied.  “C’mon, Syl.”

            Brad's curiosity was piqued but he kept it bridled.  "Tell me, Mr. Zenton," he said when the women had gone, "are you totally cured of what it was that you were being treated for?"

            "Please, call me Lanon.  Actually there was nothing wrong with me but a bump on the head.  I told Audley I had been in a plane crash during the blackout and it wouldn't do but she had to have me checked out to make sure I wasn't mortally wounded.  I'm glad she insisted, otherwise I might not have had the pleasure of getting to know Dr. Blackstone."

            Doc Will made a mental note of how well Lanon had learned the social graces.

            "What's your field, Lanon?" he asked.

            "I'm in science, too.  Cultural anthropology of a sort.  I study the ways in which people live together, how they set their goals and how they work out their differences."

            "Sort of a corporate mogul?"

            "No," Doc intercepted, "Jesse Brothers is the entrepreneur around here.  Lanon studies the philosophies of advanced civilizations, such as the JCP, and the people who make up the civilization, such as the Zooids."

            "I confess I know very little about it."    

            Doc Will stood as Audley and Sylvia returned with Angus in tow.  "Angus," he said cheerfully.  "Meet Brad."      

            "Oh, this is the computer person we were discussing this morning, is it not, Audley?"

            It had hardly been a discussion, as she recalled.  She had only thought of him!  "Yes, Angus.  This is Dr. Bradford Spencer, the guy who knows all about computers.  He is one of my dearest friends and Dad’s associate.”

            Angus bowed to Brad.  "I am pleased to greet you again, Dr. Spencer.  Please don't let my peculiar appearance distract you from the truth of my essence."

            Brad reciprocated with a bow.  "I'll try not to, Angus, but you must forgive my curiosity."

            "Please, sit," Angus said, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa.  "My vaporous appearance is due to a phenomenon known as Ultimaton Aggregation.  You have heard of it in your scientific studies, no doubt?"

            "No, I can't say that I have."

            "It's a rare phenomenon, but obviously possible."

            "Obviously," Brad acquiesced.

            "Audley and I were discussing your qualifications to undertake a new assignment.  She would have recommended you, but she felt you were already occupied."

            "According to the discussions we've been having, Angus," Lanon said, "Brad's occupation is nebulous at best."

            "What kind of an assignment is it?" Brad asked.

            "It has to do with computer science."

            "That's my field.  I'm confident that I would qualify, but what's the nature of the assignment?"

            "Lanon," Angus said as an aside.  "I don't know if I have the authority to address this subject."

            "I defer to your advanced experiential status, Angus.  If you sense that Dr. Spencer would be approved, I certainly have no objection."   Brad's curiosity was visibly aroused.

            "We are embarked on an advanced science," Angus said.  "We hope to open a line of communication between the Zooids and other intelligences.  You must understand, however, that we are still in the speculative stages of this project.  Nothing has yet been confirmed."

Brad was drawn to the vibrational integrity of this unusual aggregation of ultimatons. He smiled. "And you must understand, Angus, that my other options are similarly elusive."

            Angus liked the romantic young man.  He beamed.  "After dinner we will show you to the Terminal."