"What is it, then?" she demanded. "If it's not math?"
Bek looked surprised. "A conversation," he said, reasonably. "What else?"
"A – "
"Well, well!" Professor Noni's high and somewhat unpleasant voice cut across Theo's response. "I don't know whether to be delighted or horrified to hear that the argument between theory and art continues unabated. The heat death of the universe will doubtless find them arguing still." She clapped her hands. "Everyone up! Stretches! Sequence Five!"
* * * *
"Ms. Waitley, stand forward, if you please," Professor Noni said. "I need your assistance in a demonstration."
Theo blinked. Professor Noni always called on Bek and on Lida – the class's lead students – to assist during demos. To call on the newest student – I've only had eight classes! Theo thought, her fingers tightening on the bit of lace.
"Go on, Theo. You'll do great." Bek leaned over and worked the lace free. "I'll hold this for you."
"I am waiting, Ms. Waitley."
"Yes, ma'am!" Theo took a deep breath and stepped forward. She met Professor Noni's eyes and consciously straightened her shoulders.
The dance professor's lips bent in one of her chilly smiles. "A good stance from which to begin almost anything," she said. "Now, Ms. Waitley, what I want you to do is... answer me."
Theo blinked. "Answer you, ma'am?"
"Precisely. Dance, as Mr. Tehruda has expressed it, might be seen as a conversation. I will make a 'statement' and you will answer me, whereupon I will reply, and so on, until our conversation is by mutual agreement, completed." She inclined her head.
"Or, to put it another way; I will propose a equation, you will refine it, and we will collaborate until we have achieved agreement. Now. Attend me."
Theo watched worriedly as Professor Noni moved her left foot forward, back-extending her right leg, and raised her right arm until it was a straight line from her shoulder, hand bent at a right angle, fingers pointing toward the ceiling. And that was a completely familiar move; nothing other than the opening move in Stretch Sequence Three. Theo relaxed into the second move in the sequence, dropping back on the right leg, stretching the left in front, bringing her left arm up to join the right.
Professor Noni moved into the third phrase, Theo answered with the fourth, and Professor Noni responded, a little more quickly. The room and the small noises made by her classmates as they watched faded from Theo's attention, as she concentrated on the moves – statement, answer, statement, response. At some point they left the familiar stretches; at some point, they sped up. Theo barely noticed, her mind's eye filled with the pattern they made as it would become, while her body responded to the pattern as it was now.
They moved, describing circles and squares; they approached, retreated, sidestepped, and the conversation went on, and on...
Professor Noni spun on a toe and lunged. Theo leapt, spinning – and suddenly the pattern in her head and the pattern of the dance diverged. All during the dance they had maintained a distance of between six and eight steps, and now –
Now, they were going to be too far apart!
Theo twisted, lunging in an attempt to mend the error, while the pattern in her head shattered and flew apart. Professor Noni skipped to one side, spun lightly and came to rest, feet flat and hands folded. Theo staggered and went down hard on one knee.
"Enough!" The dance instructor raised her hand. She was, Theo saw, breathing hard, and visibly sweating. Now that she was noticing, she was sweaty, too, and taking deep breaths.
"Tell me, Ms. Waitley – why did you correct your statement?"
"I'd... miscalculated," Theo gasped. "We'd been dancing at the same distance, and suddenly we were going to be farther apart..."
"I see. And yet it is... a natural human interaction – to come together, to part, to meet again." Professor Noni paused, then nodded. "Despite that last... miscalculation – I am impressed, Ms. Waitley. A very interesting conversation, indeed!"
The second bell on the session sounded then, startlingly loud. The professor looked out at the rest of the class, sitting so still they hardly seemed to be breathing. Bek's grin was so wide Theo thought his face must hurt.
"We break for an eighth," Professor Noni said. "Be ready to dance the suwello when you return, students."
* * * *
Dancing the suwello really woke you up, Theo thought, as she finished sealing her coveralls. She felt – she felt like she was – like she was smooth; like all her muscles were moving in sync. And that was an... interesting thought. She paused with her dance clothes in her hand, staring down into the depths of her bag, thinking.
Did her muscles usually feel like they weren't working together? No, she decided after a moment; mostly she felt like she was... stiff, and so afraid of tripping somebody else up, that –
" 'Bye, Theo!" Lida called, interrupting her ruminations.
She looked up as the older girl and her two friends moved past on their way to the door.
" 'Bye," she said, giving the three of them a nod and a smile. "Looking forward to next time."
Jinny – the tallest – grinned. "Me, too! The suwello sure does sharpen you up!"
The three of them laughed and hurried by. Theo blinked at the dance clothes still in her hand, quickly stuffed them in her bag, sealed it, and headed for the exit, moving quick and smooth.
Bek was lounging against the wall across from the dressing room. Theo grinned. When he wasn't dancing, Bek looked lazy and boneless, like an especially spoiled cat. Like a cat, though, once he started to move, it was was with precision and strength.
Like now. He straightened out his lean and swung in beside her, matching steps like they'd practiced the whole thing.
"Hey, Theo, where do you go now?"
"Home," she said, feeling a little of the spring drop out of her step. "Over in Quad Eight."
"Mind if I come with you part of the way? I've got a tutorial over in Merton."
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. "Fractal Trig?"
"Oh, no!" Bek said cheerfully. "I'm out of Fractal Trig. My mentor got me a 'change into Consumer Math. I started mid-mester, so I've got to do the make-ups, that's all."
They came to the belt station and went up the ramp, walking light and quick, and stepped onto the belt still in sync, without even the breath of a boggle. Theo sighed in pure pleasure.
"You going to the Saltation on Venta?"
"To what?"
Bek blinked. "The Saltation. Started I don't know how long ago. All us dancers get together and – dance. There's freeform, and competitions, and – you'd like it, Theo."
She looked at him doubtfully.
"I don't know," she said slowly. "I wouldn't know anybody, and I'm not really a dancer – I mean, I just started, and I don't know any of the dances, really."
"You're a natural!" he told her, eyes sparkling. "And today – Professor Noni was testing you – you know that, don't you? And she said she was impressed. I don't think I've ever heard her say that to anybody before."
"But you – "
"I've been taking dance whenever I had a free-study since I was a littlie," Bek interrupted. "But you, you just came in cold, and picked up the moves really fast. You're already better than Jinny, and she's been taking dance as long as I have!"
Theo laughed.
"What's funny?"
"You are – no, I am!" She shook her head, and laughed again. "Bek, I've got at least a thousand notes in my file saying that I'm physically challenged. I bump into people and trip over things that aren't there."
"Really?" He shrugged. "Looks like dance is just what you need, then." He took a breath. "So," he said, speaking a little too quick; "I'll be going to the Saltation."