the statement and settled back to take in their surroundings. Laura watched him in silence for a while and then asked:
“So, how has the evening been so far? You seem to be liking it.” Dyer brought his eyes back from following the progress of a brilliantly lit Lockheed sinking gently downward into Kennedy Airport on the final stage of its descent from the ionosphere.
“You won’t believe it, but better than I thought,” he said. “I expected a lot of phonies but most of the people I’ve met have been very interesting. Some of the speeches went on a bit, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“You see, Ray. It’s not only us who have hackneyed ideas about what scientists are like. You have them about showbiz people too. At least we’re trying to do something about it. That’s what you said we should do, isn’t it—test our ideas to see if they’re true?”
Dyer grinned suddenly. “If that’s the case, it makes you scientists,” he taunted playfully. “So the question doesn’t arise. All you have to do now is learn to accept what the tests tell you, You see, we’re really very nice people but your preconceived notions won’t allow you to believe it. If I don’t wear odd shoes on my feet or grow cabbages that eat people, I must be the exception.”
“You’re back at work again,” she replied. “Tonight I’m not working. Talk about something else.”
“Women,” he offered without hesitation.
“Oh dear. I should have guessed.”
“No,” he told her smugly. “You’ve got it wrong. Jumping to conclusions again. What I meant was all this stuff you’re always saying to Betty about . . . the crusade. How come you’re so hung up about it?”
“What makes you want to know that?” Laura asked in surprise.
“Oh . . . I don’t know. Just curious.”
Laura made a slight shrug and thought to herself for a moment.
“No single big thing . . . I guess I’ve always thought that way. And I still do,” she added pointedly. “That’s okay by you, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Dyer made a throwing-away motion with his hand. “That’s what I thought. I figured it had to come from way back somewhere. You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’d let her opinions be moulded much by people today . . . know what I mean? I can’t think it’s something that somebody told you about yesterday.” He nodded to himself as if she had just confirmed something. “I bet your mother was that way too. Right?”
“Yes, she was, as a matter of fact . . . a lot that way. She had good reason, too. My father was a slob . . . couldn’t make his job work out and couldn’t make his marriage work out so he messed around all the time and tried to live it up in a fantasy world because he never grew up enough to accept things. I left Detroit when I was sixteen because I couldn’t stand it anymore . . . Always—” Laura broke off and looked at Dyer accusingly. “Hey, what are you trying to do—psychoanalyze me or something?”
“No. I told you—I was just curious.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and regarded him suspiciously.
“You used to be a shrink or something before you got into computers, didn’t you? Didn’t you say something about Harvard Med School once?”
“I was a neurological researcher,” Dyer told her. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
“It still has to do with heads though.”
“And that’s about as far as it goes,” he said. “I was concerned with finding out more about how brains work, not with fixing them after they’ve started blowing fuses. A lot of things that were learned in that field were later applied to designing smarter computers, so it made sense for me to move on the way I did.” He was about to say more but frowned and checked himself. “But that’s work again, and you said we’re not working.”
The drinks appeared in the dispenser hatch. Dyer removed them, passed one to Laura and lapsed into silence while he tasted his own.
“So, what made
“So, how has the evening been so far? You seem to be liking it.” Dyer brought his eyes back from following the progress of a brilliantly lit Lockheed sinking gently downward into Kennedy Airport on the final stage of its descent from the ionosphere.
“You won’t believe it, but better than I thought,” he said. “I expected a lot of phonies but most of the people I’ve met have been very interesting. Some of the speeches went on a bit, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“You see, Ray. It’s not only us who have hackneyed ideas about what scientists are like. You have them about showbiz people too. At least we’re trying to do something about it. That’s what you said we should do, isn’t it—test our ideas to see if they’re true?”
Dyer grinned suddenly. “If that’s the case, it makes you scientists,” he taunted playfully. “So the question doesn’t arise. All you have to do now is learn to accept what the tests tell you, You see, we’re really very nice people but your preconceived notions won’t allow you to believe it. If I don’t wear odd shoes on my feet or grow cabbages that eat people, I must be the exception.”
“You’re back at work again,” she replied. “Tonight I’m not working. Talk about something else.”
“Women,” he offered without hesitation.
“Oh dear. I should have guessed.”
“No,” he told her smugly. “You’ve got it wrong. Jumping to conclusions again. What I meant was all this stuff you’re always saying to Betty about . . . the crusade. How come you’re so hung up about it?”
“What makes you want to know that?” Laura asked in surprise.
“Oh . . . I don’t know. Just curious.”
Laura made a slight shrug and thought to herself for a moment.
“No single big thing . . . I guess I’ve always thought that way. And I still do,” she added pointedly. “That’s okay by you, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Dyer made a throwing-away motion with his hand. “That’s what I thought. I figured it had to come from way back somewhere. You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’d let her opinions be moulded much by people today . . . know what I mean? I can’t think it’s something that somebody told you about yesterday.” He nodded to himself as if she had just confirmed something. “I bet your mother was that way too. Right?”
“Yes, she was, as a matter of fact . . . a lot that way. She had good reason, too. My father was a slob . . . couldn’t make his job work out and couldn’t make his marriage work out so he messed around all the time and tried to live it up in a fantasy world because he never grew up enough to accept things. I left Detroit when I was sixteen because I couldn’t stand it anymore . . . Always—” Laura broke off and looked at Dyer accusingly. “Hey, what are you trying to do—psychoanalyze me or something?”
“No. I told you—I was just curious.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and regarded him suspiciously.
“You used to be a shrink or something before you got into computers, didn’t you? Didn’t you say something about Harvard Med School once?”
“I was a neurological researcher,” Dyer told her. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
“It still has to do with heads though.”
“And that’s about as far as it goes,” he said. “I was concerned with finding out more about how brains work, not with fixing them after they’ve started blowing fuses. A lot of things that were learned in that field were later applied to designing smarter computers, so it made sense for me to move on the way I did.” He was about to say more but frowned and checked himself. “But that’s work again, and you said we’re not working.”
The drinks appeared in the dispenser hatch. Dyer removed them, passed one to Laura and lapsed into silence while he tasted his own.
“So, what made
Similar Books
