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“We’ll find a way,” said Dash. “Always have.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“I am. Science and technology are powerful tools. I have faith.”

She was feeling wicked. “Here’s an idea. How about another invasion? A real one this time. Followed by mass extermination. Lightening the load on … well, everything.”

“Hopefully, we’ll find a better solution than that.”

“Maybe our Ooi is an advance scout.”

He gave her a look. This wasn’t the Gunjita he remembered. That Gunjita didn’t have a cynical bone in her body. That Gunjita was earnest and sincere. She wouldn’t have known sarcasm if it bit her in the face.

This one had an edge.

“You’re not serious,” he said.

“He has a point is all I’m saying. He could stick around and try to sell it. Work to solve the problem. Instead he comes here and contemplates suicide.” She felt at the end of her rope. “I wish our Ooi were alive. Cav might juve if it were. No guarantee, but the hook would be that much harder to get out.”

“It could be.”

“Alive? I don’t believe it.”

“I felt something.”

“I’m sure you did, but what?”

“Movement.”

“That no one else can feel.”

“I wish you could,” he said.

“Your own pulse maybe.”

“Possibly.”

“The point being—”

He cut her off. “I know the point. It’s no proof. Let’s do an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“I’ll feel your pulse.”

“I can do that myself.”

“Not just your heartbeat. All your pulses.”

She eyed him. “Meaning what?”

“Your ebb and flow. Your waves and vibrations. Your internal flux.”

“My flux? No, thanks.”

“I’ll interpret them,” he said, gaining momentum. “You tell me what you’ve been thinking and feeling, and I’ll tell you what I found. We’ll see how closely the two match.”

“You’ll confirm my thoughts and feelings?”

“Scientifically. Not only the ones you’re aware of.”

“My secrets? My private life? My precious, highly personal, highly confidential flux?” She could barely keep from laughing in his face.

“Everything. You can’t believe how sensitive I’ve become.”

“Oh, I believe it.”

“Just give it a try.”

“Close your mouth,” she said. “You’re salivating.”

He reached for her hand.

“No, you don’t.”

She refused to give it to him, wanting to be neither guinea pig, object of desire, nor inspiration for his stale, pale fantasy life. As a come-on, it was lamer than a broken-down horse.

Though she couldn’t help being curious. Not to mention, she could use a break from Mr. I - Want - To - Kill - Myself. He was an albatross around her neck. A little fun and games, a little goofiness, would be a breath of fresh air.

“Very lightly,” she agreed, extending her wrist.

He held his hand just above her. His expression turned inward and intensified, as though he were entering a new state of mind or consciousness, leaving their world for another. His fingertips seemed to have a life of their own, slowly drifting downward until they brushed her skin.

His touch was gentle and feather light. She felt a tingle, which was nice, though nothing like the electric shock she’d once experienced. And it didn’t last.

A short time later, she ended the experiment, pulling her hand back, breaking contact.

“So?” she asked. “Pick the lock? Crack the safe? Find what you were looking for?”

“Blew the door right off.”

“Ouch. Explosive.”

“Let’s compare notes. What are you thinking and feeling?”

“You tell me.”

There were a number of things he wanted to say. Almost all were in the realm of guesses, hopes, and dreams. He knew enough to tread lightly.

“I think you’re interested.”

“In you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you’re thinking.”

“You’re not?”

“Among many other things. Many other.”

“So yes.”

Was he kidding? “It’s not going to happen, Dash. So drop it.”

“What’s not? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Sleep with me?” He looked shocked.

She didn’t buy it. “Let’s change the subject. How’s your mother?”

Sleep with you?”

“Your mother, Dash. How’s she doing?”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Has she seen you lately?” Not, have you seen her?

“She’s old.”

“But not blind. What was her reaction?”

“Ask her.”

“Don’t pout.”

“Don’t presume,” he shot back.

She and Ruby hadn’t spoken in nearly sixty years. Unlikely that was going to change. Juving was a miracle, but to friends and families it created havoc. Or it could. Parents younger than their kids, and acting like kids. Grown-ups transformed into twenty-year-olds with something to prove. Taboos questioned. Traditions turned on their heads.

Ruby had not taken kindly to Gunjita sleeping with her son. Gunjita had not taken kindly to it herself, once she came to her senses.

Professionally, the fallout was severe. Sleeping with a student was wrong in so many ways. Changing mores had not changed this essential fact. Not yet. Dash hadn’t made things any easier for her. She nearly lost her lab, not to mention her career.

Eventually, she recovered. The incident receded into the past. She got back on her feet. Professionally, it was pretty much smooth sailing after that. Personally, there was no point in continuing to beat herself up.

Ruby, unfortunately, didn’t share that opinion. There was one particularly ugly shouting match, at a restaurant no less. Ruby did the shouting. Frozen to her chair, Gunjita sat and listened, mouth agape, then excused herself from the table. She went to the restroom, took a number of deep breaths, then left. Walked right out of the restaurant, and kept walking. Hadn’t laid eyes on Ruby since.

“She can’t have been happy.”

“She’s my mother,” said Dash, as though no further explanation were needed. He picked up a small, stainless-steel tray, studying his reflection in it.

“There’s a black that eats lasers,” he said. “You know the one I’m talking about? Absorbs all light.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“They’ve invented something even blacker. Blackest black ever. A black hole black.”

Gunjita recalled Ruby’s search for something like that. “Grabs your attention, I’m guessing.”

“Swallows it. If she could, she’d be that. She painted herself once for a performance. Freaked people out.”

“Kleptomania had a reputation for that.”

He nodded. “The Stealer of Hearts and Souls. The Robber of Self-Righteousness.”

“The Thief of Hypocrisy,” she added.

“All that. Happiest day of her life.”

“Is she still performing?”

“She killed herself.”

Gunjita was stunned. “Who did? You said … Oh my god!”

He heaved a sigh, drawing the moment out, being something of a performer himself. The bearer of postsurgical good or bad news more times than he could count. He knew what suspense could do, and on principle avoided it.

But this was payback.

Gunjita was reeling. “Your mother killed herself? You said she was fine. I can’t believe it.”

He let her hang a bit longer before coming clean.

“She retired. Onstage. A kite, a knish, and a good-bye kiss. Her final bow. You didn’t hear?”

Her relief was immediate and immense. She slumped like a rag, then picked herself up, and shoved him in the chest.

They flew apart. Several pieces of lab equipment flew with them. Gunjita couldn’t have cared less.

“You know something, Dash?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re an asshole.”

At last, a little warmth. A little affection.

“And you do want to sleep with me. It’s the truth. You shouldn’t protest. I don’t mind that you do. But I’m curious. Is it coming from you? Or did Cav put you up to it?”