backward to make her life easier. Like Valerie. They're two of a kind: they want what they want and the hell with everybody else.
She sat down at her typewriter. Dawn Danvers wants a story in a hurry. She wants a juicy one. And she'll make sure we use it.
Well, I can give her just what she wants.
She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a pile of handwritten notes, and a sketch. She would have liked more time to gather details, and she didn't have the film she wanted for it, but she couldn't pass up this perfect chance. She smiled as she began to type. I'll give her something that will make her reputation. And my future.
For the next fifteen minutes she wrote steadily. She really had a lot, she thought, especially after getting the sketch. That had been the scary part: slipping into Lawrence Oldfield's office while the cleaning crew was next door, rifling through the file marked "Jackson," and
grabbing the drawing and getting out. She'd wanted to stay and read the whole file—all those letters and memoes, staring at her, filled with secret information!—but she couldn't; she had to leave before the maids came in to turn out the lights and lock the door. But it was all right, she thought, typing rapidly. She had enough. She had her story.
When she was through, she skimmed the story quickly, making a few revisions. Then, gathering the pages together, she went to the film library and found some stock film. An hour and a half later. Dawn Danvers read the story on the air in her sweetly modulated voice, while Sybille watched from the control room.
"Stanford University has a new sweetheart, KNEX learned today: the Sunnyvale Sweetheart, they may be calling her, or the Engineering Angel, or, better yet, the Benefactress We All Go Ape Over."
A film of Sunnyvale appeared on the screen, the camera closing in on a residential area of large homes.
"Heiress Ramona Jackson, ninety-one, has lived in Sunnyvale all her life. The daughter of a prominent oilman and the widow of an oil and gas engineer, she's dreamed for years of giving an engineering building to Stanford in memory of her husband and father. But Ms. Jackson has another dream too, and she's decided to bring both of her dreams to Stanford University."
The film of Sunnyvale gave way on the screen to shots of the ape house at the San Francisco Zoo. Sybille would have preferred film of Ramona Jackson's apes, but there was no time. Dawn talked sweetly on.
"For the past fifteen years Ms. Jackson has provided a home and companionship to a number of apes, teaching them sign language and etiquette in comfortable surroundings that make them seem like members of her family. Lately, it appears she's become concerned about their care when she's no longer here, especially that of her favorite ape, Ethelred, named for an ancient king of England."
The Stanford campus appeared on the screen, the camera moving past classroom buildings to the engineering building.
"According to a high-ranking Stanford official, Ms. Jackson has promised fifty million dollars to the University for the construction of the Ethelred Engineering Building and Ape House." A small giggle teetered on the edge of Dawn's ambrosial lips, but was quickly squelched. On the screen, the engineering building was replaced by the drawing Sybille had lifted from Oldfield's file, a boldly sketched cartoon of a lively monkey perched on the tower of a structure that had "Engineering" scribbled over the door. "Ms. Jackson sketched her
dream building for university officials, perhaps to give the architects a head start. Other details have not been released, but in the past, Lyle Wilson, chairman of the engineering department, has been quoted as saying work in the areas of electronic and optical and computer engineering would be expanded if funds were available. And of course there will be a home for the apes."
The blond prettiness of Dawn Danvers once again filled the screen. "Ifs a sweetheart of a day
She sat down at her typewriter. Dawn Danvers wants a story in a hurry. She wants a juicy one. And she'll make sure we use it.
Well, I can give her just what she wants.
She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a pile of handwritten notes, and a sketch. She would have liked more time to gather details, and she didn't have the film she wanted for it, but she couldn't pass up this perfect chance. She smiled as she began to type. I'll give her something that will make her reputation. And my future.
For the next fifteen minutes she wrote steadily. She really had a lot, she thought, especially after getting the sketch. That had been the scary part: slipping into Lawrence Oldfield's office while the cleaning crew was next door, rifling through the file marked "Jackson," and
grabbing the drawing and getting out. She'd wanted to stay and read the whole file—all those letters and memoes, staring at her, filled with secret information!—but she couldn't; she had to leave before the maids came in to turn out the lights and lock the door. But it was all right, she thought, typing rapidly. She had enough. She had her story.
When she was through, she skimmed the story quickly, making a few revisions. Then, gathering the pages together, she went to the film library and found some stock film. An hour and a half later. Dawn Danvers read the story on the air in her sweetly modulated voice, while Sybille watched from the control room.
"Stanford University has a new sweetheart, KNEX learned today: the Sunnyvale Sweetheart, they may be calling her, or the Engineering Angel, or, better yet, the Benefactress We All Go Ape Over."
A film of Sunnyvale appeared on the screen, the camera closing in on a residential area of large homes.
"Heiress Ramona Jackson, ninety-one, has lived in Sunnyvale all her life. The daughter of a prominent oilman and the widow of an oil and gas engineer, she's dreamed for years of giving an engineering building to Stanford in memory of her husband and father. But Ms. Jackson has another dream too, and she's decided to bring both of her dreams to Stanford University."
The film of Sunnyvale gave way on the screen to shots of the ape house at the San Francisco Zoo. Sybille would have preferred film of Ramona Jackson's apes, but there was no time. Dawn talked sweetly on.
"For the past fifteen years Ms. Jackson has provided a home and companionship to a number of apes, teaching them sign language and etiquette in comfortable surroundings that make them seem like members of her family. Lately, it appears she's become concerned about their care when she's no longer here, especially that of her favorite ape, Ethelred, named for an ancient king of England."
The Stanford campus appeared on the screen, the camera moving past classroom buildings to the engineering building.
"According to a high-ranking Stanford official, Ms. Jackson has promised fifty million dollars to the University for the construction of the Ethelred Engineering Building and Ape House." A small giggle teetered on the edge of Dawn's ambrosial lips, but was quickly squelched. On the screen, the engineering building was replaced by the drawing Sybille had lifted from Oldfield's file, a boldly sketched cartoon of a lively monkey perched on the tower of a structure that had "Engineering" scribbled over the door. "Ms. Jackson sketched her
dream building for university officials, perhaps to give the architects a head start. Other details have not been released, but in the past, Lyle Wilson, chairman of the engineering department, has been quoted as saying work in the areas of electronic and optical and computer engineering would be expanded if funds were available. And of course there will be a home for the apes."
The blond prettiness of Dawn Danvers once again filled the screen. "Ifs a sweetheart of a day
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