patterns across the open flagstones. Owen remembered the figure from his class; he had never been any good at it. But something different was at work tonight. He seemed to understand the rhythm of the changes for the first time. What had seemed an arbitrary set of transformations was now the most natural development in the world. Maybe it was Gen's eyes. He twirled her in his arms, he stepped once, twice, forward and back; they glided, joined, separated and rejoined.
His mind whirled, the throb of the bass in his heart. He was graceful.
"You dance well for a dinosaur hunter," she said.
"I'm not a hunter."
"Not a hunter, professor? I think you are."
"Oh, no. Actually, I'm investigating sauropod heterochrony."
"Ah, heterochrony." She twirled away from him, showing him a lethal length of calf, then back. "What's heterochrony?"
"Heterochrony comprises phylogenetic changes in the expression rate of an organism's particular features."
"I see." The couples slid into two lines. The line of women retreated, curtseyed. Owen's line of men bowed. They came forward and joined hands. In pairs, they began to circle the floor.
"Despite the fact that it's been proven for years that all basal sauropods, including Apatosaurus megacephalos, have fibrolamellar primary bone--just like us--still, the alteration of somatic growth relative to maturation has remained a fundamental question."
"A real puzzler."
"For instance, is their sexual maturity in synch with physical maturity?"
"A question I have pondered for many years." Gen kept her eyes forward.
Owen was entranced by her clean profile. "I mean," he said, "just because they're grown up doesn't mean they're ready for sex."
"A truth universally acknowledged."
"It's a vital determinant of reproductive policies."
"I find honesty is the best policy." Gen stepped forward, measured pace by pace, delicately and precisely. Her toenails were painted red.
Owen felt exhilarated. The dance came so naturally, and he felt eloquent. "Plus, do they care for their young as we do?"
"Better, I hope."
"Fibrolamellar primary bone in basal sauropods usually indicates elevated growth rates. They get big fast. Ontogenetic studies taken before the advent of time travel indicated proportionately higher growth rates among juvenile individuals. The young grow faster than the old."
"And suffer for it, I'm sure."
Were the sauropoda R- or K-reproductive strategists? I intend to prove that the speed at which they attain maturity is dependent on their environment. A coddled specimen will stay an adolescent a lot longer than one exposed to a harsh struggle for survival."
"Which explains a lot, doesn't it?"
"With the proper care, diet and ready availability of food, I'm sure Wilma will grow more slowly than they think."
"Some individuals never grow up." Gen looked up at him, smiling. Her eyes were the most remarkable shade of violet. The quadrille ended, the couples laughed and leaned together, and the band began a slow jazz tune. Feeling flushed, Owen took Gen in his arms.
He had never realized before what a beautiful custom dancing was. Men and women who not long before had been separate, now held each other in their arms. The embrace was a way station of intimacy. Each, afraid but willing, risked exposure. Genevieve let him hold her, and he kept a formal space between them, but as they turned he felt her hair brush his cheek.
Did she really like him, or was her teasing pure mockery? Owen had no aptitude for women. He dreaded that his mother was right, that anyone who liked him was only interested in the fifth largest private fortune in North America.
But Genevieve was different. She made no attempt to put him at ease, but when he blathered on about dinosaurs she pretended not to notice how absurd he was. Her warm hand on his shoulder seemed connected right to his racing heart.
His mind ran ahead. After the dance they would walk beneath fragrant olive trees, warm breeze laden with the scent of spices,
His mind whirled, the throb of the bass in his heart. He was graceful.
"You dance well for a dinosaur hunter," she said.
"I'm not a hunter."
"Not a hunter, professor? I think you are."
"Oh, no. Actually, I'm investigating sauropod heterochrony."
"Ah, heterochrony." She twirled away from him, showing him a lethal length of calf, then back. "What's heterochrony?"
"Heterochrony comprises phylogenetic changes in the expression rate of an organism's particular features."
"I see." The couples slid into two lines. The line of women retreated, curtseyed. Owen's line of men bowed. They came forward and joined hands. In pairs, they began to circle the floor.
"Despite the fact that it's been proven for years that all basal sauropods, including Apatosaurus megacephalos, have fibrolamellar primary bone--just like us--still, the alteration of somatic growth relative to maturation has remained a fundamental question."
"A real puzzler."
"For instance, is their sexual maturity in synch with physical maturity?"
"A question I have pondered for many years." Gen kept her eyes forward.
Owen was entranced by her clean profile. "I mean," he said, "just because they're grown up doesn't mean they're ready for sex."
"A truth universally acknowledged."
"It's a vital determinant of reproductive policies."
"I find honesty is the best policy." Gen stepped forward, measured pace by pace, delicately and precisely. Her toenails were painted red.
Owen felt exhilarated. The dance came so naturally, and he felt eloquent. "Plus, do they care for their young as we do?"
"Better, I hope."
"Fibrolamellar primary bone in basal sauropods usually indicates elevated growth rates. They get big fast. Ontogenetic studies taken before the advent of time travel indicated proportionately higher growth rates among juvenile individuals. The young grow faster than the old."
"And suffer for it, I'm sure."
Were the sauropoda R- or K-reproductive strategists? I intend to prove that the speed at which they attain maturity is dependent on their environment. A coddled specimen will stay an adolescent a lot longer than one exposed to a harsh struggle for survival."
"Which explains a lot, doesn't it?"
"With the proper care, diet and ready availability of food, I'm sure Wilma will grow more slowly than they think."
"Some individuals never grow up." Gen looked up at him, smiling. Her eyes were the most remarkable shade of violet. The quadrille ended, the couples laughed and leaned together, and the band began a slow jazz tune. Feeling flushed, Owen took Gen in his arms.
He had never realized before what a beautiful custom dancing was. Men and women who not long before had been separate, now held each other in their arms. The embrace was a way station of intimacy. Each, afraid but willing, risked exposure. Genevieve let him hold her, and he kept a formal space between them, but as they turned he felt her hair brush his cheek.
Did she really like him, or was her teasing pure mockery? Owen had no aptitude for women. He dreaded that his mother was right, that anyone who liked him was only interested in the fifth largest private fortune in North America.
But Genevieve was different. She made no attempt to put him at ease, but when he blathered on about dinosaurs she pretended not to notice how absurd he was. Her warm hand on his shoulder seemed connected right to his racing heart.
His mind ran ahead. After the dance they would walk beneath fragrant olive trees, warm breeze laden with the scent of spices,
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