happy, Mr. Jarndyke,” Adrian reminded him. “It’s in your interests for me to be single-minded, obsessive, utterly committed to the quest for the Golden Fleece. If you want to surround yourself with happy people, you could hire idiots. If you want to make trillions....”
Jarndyke cut him off. “Are you calling me an idiot?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Jarndyke,” Adrian said blushing deeply. “I think you’re a genius, in your way. You have everything— and it wasn’t blind luck. You’ve earned everything, including happiness. Not many people can say that.”
“Bullshit,” said Jarndyke, although he didn’t mean it, and it wasn’t true.
Again, he could have left on that note and let Adrian get back to work, but again, he didn’t.
“I want you to tell me what you saw in the barn,” Jarndyke said. “I want you to explain to me what it was that you saw but I couldn’t.”
“I can’t,” Adrian told him.
“Because Angie forbade you to?”
“No, because I literally can’t. Sometimes, you have to be there. Sometimes, it just isn’t possible to explain what I can see to people who can’t see it for themselves.”
Lying, Adrian thought, wasn’t as difficult as it sometimes seemed—and sometimes, it wasn’t all that difficult to keep the story straight, even when the reasons were tangled.
“She still won’t let me in, you know. You’re privileged—and she doesn’t hold it against you that you didn’t like it. Told me this morning that you were a real treasure, and that I should be sure to cherish you. Said she wished that she could do what you can do. Can’t all be scientific geniuses, though, can we? How are things coming along?” The last question was just for form’s sake, to transfer the dialogue back to safe ground, to the terra firma of business.
“The deep reds are coming along nicely now. The test genes are ready for implantation for preliminary trials. The true blues are very slow—but organic chemistry’s always had difficulty with true blues. I hope to have first of the lemon yellows ready for implantation next week...but I still haven’t mastered the configuration of the perfect gold. I’ll know it when I’ve imagined it, because it will be the most beautiful DNA sequence in the world. It’s just a matter of racking my brains, reaching out a little further...eventually, I’ll find it.”
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” the big man said, automatically. “Making progress—that’s the main thing.”
“It’s the only thing,” Adrian replied. “It’s all we have, this side of the grave. All else is illusion.”
<>
~ * ~
SOME LIKE IT HOT
“Gaia likes it cold.”
—James Lovelock,
The Ages of Gaia
Gerda Rosenhane fell in love with Kelemen Kiss—who did not like his forename and insisted on being called Kay—at the age of six, and somehow avoided ever falling out, in spite of all the customary childish quarrels and jealousies, adolescent metamorphoses and adult shifts in perspective. She was able to fall in love with him in the first place, and to sustain their relationship for many years thereafter, because they spent their childhood living on the same street in Strasbourg, within walking distance of the European Parliament.
The resilience of their relationship was greatly aided by the fact that Gerda and Kay had the same birthday, March twelfth; they always celebrated it together as children, thus founding a tradition that extended far into adulthood.
Under other circumstances, the cultural differences between Gerda, who was Swedish, and Kay, who was Hungarian, might have been immense, but they not only lived on the same street, they attended the same school: the so-called New International School, whose pupils came from the assorted nations of the EC, but where all the classes were taught in English. Everything in their world tended to be prefaced
Jarndyke cut him off. “Are you calling me an idiot?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Jarndyke,” Adrian said blushing deeply. “I think you’re a genius, in your way. You have everything— and it wasn’t blind luck. You’ve earned everything, including happiness. Not many people can say that.”
“Bullshit,” said Jarndyke, although he didn’t mean it, and it wasn’t true.
Again, he could have left on that note and let Adrian get back to work, but again, he didn’t.
“I want you to tell me what you saw in the barn,” Jarndyke said. “I want you to explain to me what it was that you saw but I couldn’t.”
“I can’t,” Adrian told him.
“Because Angie forbade you to?”
“No, because I literally can’t. Sometimes, you have to be there. Sometimes, it just isn’t possible to explain what I can see to people who can’t see it for themselves.”
Lying, Adrian thought, wasn’t as difficult as it sometimes seemed—and sometimes, it wasn’t all that difficult to keep the story straight, even when the reasons were tangled.
“She still won’t let me in, you know. You’re privileged—and she doesn’t hold it against you that you didn’t like it. Told me this morning that you were a real treasure, and that I should be sure to cherish you. Said she wished that she could do what you can do. Can’t all be scientific geniuses, though, can we? How are things coming along?” The last question was just for form’s sake, to transfer the dialogue back to safe ground, to the terra firma of business.
“The deep reds are coming along nicely now. The test genes are ready for implantation for preliminary trials. The true blues are very slow—but organic chemistry’s always had difficulty with true blues. I hope to have first of the lemon yellows ready for implantation next week...but I still haven’t mastered the configuration of the perfect gold. I’ll know it when I’ve imagined it, because it will be the most beautiful DNA sequence in the world. It’s just a matter of racking my brains, reaching out a little further...eventually, I’ll find it.”
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” the big man said, automatically. “Making progress—that’s the main thing.”
“It’s the only thing,” Adrian replied. “It’s all we have, this side of the grave. All else is illusion.”
<
~ * ~
SOME LIKE IT HOT
“Gaia likes it cold.”
—James Lovelock,
The Ages of Gaia
Gerda Rosenhane fell in love with Kelemen Kiss—who did not like his forename and insisted on being called Kay—at the age of six, and somehow avoided ever falling out, in spite of all the customary childish quarrels and jealousies, adolescent metamorphoses and adult shifts in perspective. She was able to fall in love with him in the first place, and to sustain their relationship for many years thereafter, because they spent their childhood living on the same street in Strasbourg, within walking distance of the European Parliament.
The resilience of their relationship was greatly aided by the fact that Gerda and Kay had the same birthday, March twelfth; they always celebrated it together as children, thus founding a tradition that extended far into adulthood.
Under other circumstances, the cultural differences between Gerda, who was Swedish, and Kay, who was Hungarian, might have been immense, but they not only lived on the same street, they attended the same school: the so-called New International School, whose pupils came from the assorted nations of the EC, but where all the classes were taught in English. Everything in their world tended to be prefaced
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