Shadow Puppets by Orson Scott Card

stranger. Human by name, but not truly a member of the species, excluded from all clubs.”
    Till now, Anton’s words had been mere irritants, floating past him like falling leaves. Now they struck him hard, with a sudden rush of grief and regret that left him almost gasping. He could not help the hesitation, the change of stride that showed the others that these words had suddenly begun to affect him. What line had Anton crossed? Yet he had crossed it.
    “You are lonely,” said Anton. “And humans are not designed to be alone. It’s in our genes. We’re social beings. Even the most introverted person alive is constantly hungry for human association. You are no exception, Bean.”
    There were tears in his eyes, but Bean refused to acknowledge them. He hated emotions. They took control of him, weakened him.
    “Let me tell you what I know,” said Anton. “Not as a scientist—that road may not be utterly closed to me, but it’s mostly washed out, and full of ruts, and I don’t use it. But my life as a man, that door is still open.”
    “I’m listening,” said Bean.
    “I have always been as lonely as you,” he said. “Never as intelligent, but not a fool, either. I followed my mind into my work, and let it be my life. I was content with that, partly because I was so successful that my work brought great satisfaction, and partly because I was of a disposition not to look upon women with desire.” He smiled wanly. “In that era, of my youth, the governments of most countries were actively encouraging those of us whose mating instinct had been short-circuited to indulge those desires and take no mate, have no children. Part of the effort to funnel all of human endeavor into the great struggle with the alien enemy. So it was almost patriotic of me to indulge myself in fleeting affairs that meant nothing, that led nowhere. Where could they lead?”
    This is more than I want to know about you, thought Bean. It has nothing to do with me.
    “I tell you this,” said Anton, “so you understand that I know something of loneliness, too. Because all of a sudden my work was taken away from me. From my mind , not just from my daily activities. I could not even think about it. And I quickly discovered that my friendships were not…transcendent. They were all tied to my work, and when my work went away, so did these friends. They were not unkind, they still inquired after me, they made overtures, but there was nothing to say, our minds and hearts did not really touch at any point. I discovered that I did not know anybody, and nobody knew me.”
    Again, that stab of anguish in Bean’s heart. This time, though, he was not unprepared, and he breathed a little more deeply and took it in stride.
    “I was angry, of course, as who would not be?” said Anton. “And do you know what I wanted?”
    Bean did not want to say what he immediately thought of: death.
    “Not suicide, never that. My life wish is too strong, and I was not depressed, I was furious. Well, no, I was depressed, but I knew that killing myself would only help my enemies—the government—accomplish their real purpose without having had to dirty their hands. No, I did not wish to die. What I wanted, with all my heart, was…to begin to live.”
    “Why do I feel a song coming on?” said Bean. The sarcastic words slipped out of him unbidden.
    To his surprise, Anton laughed. “Yes, yes, it’s such a cliché that it should be followed by a love song, shouldn’t it? A sentimental tune that tells of how I was not alive until I met my beloved, and now the moon is new, the sea is blue, the month is June, our love is true.”
    Petra burst out laughing. “You missed your calling. The Russian Cole Porter.”
    “But my point was serious,” said Anton. “When a man’s life is bent so that his desire is not toward women, it does not change his longing for meaning in his life. A man searches for something that will outlast his life. For immortality of a kind. For a