I checked the skies. There were no more ’copters in sight. I did, however, hear the sound of a distant siren. I commenced hiking across the green and hilly countryside, heading in the direction of the park-like expanse. There were a number of buildings in that area, though not a great deal of activity. I guessed, as I walked among reedy grasses over the red clodded earth, that it was probably a campus that I was approaching.
Rick. Click. Terick. Yes. There was a computer there, a list of grades within it. Summer session stuff.
Far away, the siren died. I believed that it had stopped in the area of the burning trucks. It would be some time, I decided, before they could really go through that smouldering wreckage. But I increased my pace through the midday heat. It would be pleasant to pass into the shade up ahead. I certainly looked presentable enough for a campus.
I found my way to a path which widened and acquired gravel as I progressed. I smelled magnolias and recently mown grass. Real smells—I could see the trees and the place where the lawn had been cut—not preface to some imaginary horrors.
Several guys and gals were tossing a Frisbee in an open area to my right and ahead. They paid me no special attention. Passing them and approaching the buildings, I caught the smell of food and my stomach immediately began sending signals.
A flight of concrete stairs with a pipe railing led down to an opened door. Behind it was a small cafeteria-style lounge. I stood beside the doorway as if looking for someone. I noted that people were paying cash to the boy at the register, who was reading a paperback between customers. I saw no flashing of ID cards.
So I went in and passed along the line, buying two hot dogs, a bag of chips and a large Coke. I took them back outside with me to a secluded bench I had noted beneath a large old tree.
It was a peculiar feeling, sitting there and eating, watching students pass. It made me think of my own days in school. I was about to reach out for the computer again—just for company, I guess—when a girl in white shorts, a lime jersey and tennis shoes passed, a racquet in her hand. She descended the stairs into the eatery. About Ann’s height and build. Same color hair.
… And she came walking through my memory, as she had that day on campus, wearing a white silk blouse and dark blue skirt, carrying a small purse. I was standing in the doorway of the Student Union, out of the wind. She looked right at me, as if she already knew who I was and smiled and named me. I nodded.
“…And you are Ann Strong,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”
“All right.”
I started to turn.
“Not in there,” she said. “Someplace a bit more civilized, and quiet”
“Okay.”
She had a car. She drove us to an off-campus place, the dining room at her venerable hotel, where the food was excellent and the napkins heavy cloth.
I had been back at school for over three months. It had been a little over twice that time between my recovery and my entering the university again. I had thrown myself into my studies as if they were occupational therapy, and I expected to do very well on my finals in a few weeks.
Our talk on the way over had been general, directed toward getting us acquainted. Nor did she rush into anything as we ate. I actually forgot briefly that she was a recruiter for Angra Energy, so pleasant was the conversation. She seemed to hit, as if by chance, upon nearly everything in which I was currently interested, even a couple of books which I had recently enjoyed or was just then reading.
Finally, as we sat drinking coffee, she asked me, “What sort of plans have you made for the future?”
“Oh, something having to do with computers,” I replied.
“Would you consider going East?”
I shrugged.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said. “If I liked a job I’d go wherever it took me.”
“Well, you’ve come to my attention as a possibility for recruitment by Angra.”
“That puzzles me,” I replied. “I thought that you were only hiring graduating seniors and grad students. I’m not there yet.”
She took a sip of coffee.
“I am here to look for talent,” she said, “not for pieces of paper with fancy writing on them.”
I smiled.
“But of course you want that, too.”
“Not necessarily,” she stated. “Not in special cases.”
The waiter came by and refilled our cups. As I raised mine, Ann reached out and touched the rosebud in the cut glass vase between us.
“I am flattered by what I think you are saying,” I finally answered, “but I doubt that I’ve been back in school long enough to provide much of a record for you to go on.”
“I’ve seen your earlier records,” she said, “and of course we are also influenced by current professors’ recommendations.”
“You know about the accident?”
“Yes.”
“To be practical about it—from your point of view—it could have left me unbalanced. Would it not be more prudent to watch such a person for a longer period of time?”
She nodded.
“That is one of the arguments for personal contact. May I watch you?”
“Of course.”
“Are you unbalanced?”
I laughed.
“Stable as a rock,” I said.
“In that case, Angra’s generous expense account will include dinners. Would you be free Friday evening?”
“Yes.”
“There is a play opening that night, which I would like to see.”
“I like plays,” I answered. “But I don’t want to string you along under false pretenses. I really think that I want to finish school before I take a job.”
She put her hand on my arm.
“We can talk about such matters another time,” she replied. “But I should mention that Angra does provide opportunities for the continuing education of its employees. More importantly right now, I need justification to use the expense account myself. I’ll pick you up at your place at six, on Friday.”
“That’ll be nice,” I said.
And it was. She was going to be in town for an indeterminate period of time—at least several weeks, she told me—and there were lots of good things to see and do, if one had money and a car and wanted to get to know someone real well.
Even though we became lovers during the weeks which followed, I refused to leave school to take a job with Angra at the end of the mid-year semester. I was determined to complete the academic year and start work that summer. That way, I decided, if I did not like the job I would be able to quit and return in the fall without missing any time. It sounded, I suppose, presumptuous for an undergraduate offered a good position with a major company to dictate terms that way, but I was already beginning to suspect that my case involved something special. The fact that they agreed to my terms only seemed to confirm it.
And Ann was in and out of town constantly. That following semester I was seeing her just about every weekend. It was almost as if she were keeping some sort of watch over me. I even asked:
“You certainly make it through here a lot. Are they afraid some other company’s going to steal me?”
She looked hurt.
“I juggle my schedule for you,” she replied. “Would you go elsewhere if you suddenly had another offer?”
“I haven’t had any,” I told her. “But no, I said that I’d try it at Angra and I will.”
“Then let us enjoy this bonus my travel permits.”
It seemed almost ungracious to pursue matters beyond that. Yet, I realized that I was only one of many bright kids across the country. I had even asked around a bit among my classmates—some of them very talented—and learned that outside of a standard interview and a we’ll-let-you-know, she hadn’t offered any of the others employment, not even seniors and grad students. While vanity may be the sustaining shadow of every self, I knew that I was not so much better than everyone else that I warranted that much extra consideration.