—December 29, 2195
Chapter 24
PRISCILLA HAD HOPED, naturally, that she’d be going to dinner with the handsome, devil-may-care Mark Klaybold, the character Calvin had played in the show. He’d pretend to be an ordinary guy, though with extraordinarily good looks. He’d take her to a pricey restaurant, probably the Tablet, show how impressed he was being out with someone who’d been to other worlds, point out that her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and, at the end of the evening, try to coax her into bed.
Instead, she got Cal, who, except for his car, seemed quite ordinary. He picked her up in a sleek white Benson, obviously impressing Mom, whose jaw dropped when she saw him. Or maybe the car. Priscilla wasn’t sure which. But her hopes visibly soared. Calvin might be the very guy Mom had been looking for, someone who’d completely entrance her daughter and help put this interstellar craziness on a back burner.
Cal had expressive eyes and broad shoulders and a square jaw. But they needed stage lighting. Or animation. Something. “Priscilla,” he told her while holding the car door for her, “I’m really glad you came to the show last night. It was so nice to meet you.” Mark would have said, “Priscilla, you must be the most gorgeous pilot on the planet.”
En route to the restaurant, they talked about what had led her to her career and how enthralling it must have felt to help rescue those kids. She asked him about his acting ambitions. “I’d like to go to Hollywood eventually,” he said. And, as if the notion were ridiculous, “What I’d really like is to take over when Brace Hopkins retires.” The prime action star of the era. His smile suggested he was kidding. But not really.
“What do you do for a living, Cal?” she asked.
“I’m a financial advisor.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’m the guy you go to when you want to pick up some securities.” They pulled into the parking lot at Gilmore’s. It wasn’t the Tablet, but it was nice. “I’ve fallen in love with the theater, though.” He turned off the engine and sat staring out at the gathering dusk. “I don’t think I’d ever realized before how pedestrian managing stock portfolios can be.”
“You don’t want to do that for a lifetime?”
“Lord, no. But it’s hard to find anything that pays as well.”
It was an unusually cold night. They got out of the car and hurried inside. The doors closed behind them and cut off the chill. He took her jacket and checked it for her. The host came over, a small man with a neat mustache. “Hartlett,” Cal said, “we have a reservation.” A fire crackled in a grate, and a pianist across the room was playing something soft and romantic.
Gilmore’s was filled with people dressed for an evening on the town. In the center of the table, a small candle burned inside a red globe. They were seated by a window looking out across Nassau Street. The University Chapel was lovely in the moonlight.
“How long will you be here?” asked Cal.
“Just a few more days.”
“Must be great.” His eyes locked on her, full of hope. “I imagine riding around all day in one of those starships makes everything else seem pretty pedestrian.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It can have that effect.”
He smiled, and she caught a glimpse of Mark Klaybold in there somewhere.
* * *
WHILE THEY ATE, Cal confessed that he suspected he’d spend the rest of his life with Martin Gable Finance. “Unless my movie career takes off.” Again, she saw that self-effacing smile that somehow nevertheless suggested he still hoped good things would happen.
“You know, you’d make a good Rick Cabot.” Cabot was, of course, the superspy who’d leaped from the pages of Carol Goldwin’s novels.
“Ah, yes,” he said, mimicking Cabot’s British accent, “just keep smiling, Ms. Hutchins, and don’t make any sudden moves.” He was perfect.
“Very good,” she said.
“Thanks. So what do you expect to happen with you? Where will you be going next?”
“I’ll be working at the station for a while. Nothing very exciting.”
“If you had a choice, where would you like to go?
“Someplace where there’s another civilization. Where there’s somebody we could talk to.”
“Really? Wouldn’t that be kind of scary?”
“I suppose so. But it would be nice to sit down with someone who’d never heard of Earth. And maybe find out whether he enjoys music. Whether it enjoys music.”
“That’s very poetic. But aliens on HV aren’t usually very friendly.” He took a moment to sip his coffee. “Well, it sure sounds more exciting than tracking security equities.” He tried the coffee again. Hesitated. “Will you be coming back once in a while? To Princeton?”
“I expect so,” she said. “My family lives here. Are you from this area originally?”
“I was born in Cherry Hill. Grew up there.”
“Where’d you go to school, Cal?”
“Princeton. How about you?”
“Same,” she said. “Did you major in finance?”
“Of course. But I did some theater, too.”
Priscilla smiled. “You were beautiful last night.”
* * *
THEY HIT A couple of the nightspots. And, finally, the evening tiptoed to an end. He made no overt move, took her home in the Benson, and told her how much he’d enjoyed being out with her. Priscilla pulled her coat around her. Cal climbed out and opened her door. The wind seemed capable of taking a couple of the trees down. Had she been traveling with Mark, he would have said something to her in the restaurant about how he’d miss her, how he wanted to make something happen. The piano and the fireplace would have provided the background. But Mark had never really shown up. She was disappointed.
He hovered beside her, apparently trying to decide whether to attempt a kiss. “Priscilla,” he said as they walked slowly up to the front of the house, “I’d like to do this again. If that would be all right.”
“Sure,” she said, withholding any sign of enthusiasm. “I won’t be back for a while, though, Cal.”
“That’s okay. I just—”
“What?”
“Well, I don’t know. I just don’t want you to walk out of my life after one evening.” He leaned forward, pressed his lips against her cheek, and backed off.
Oh, Mark, where did you go?
* * *
LIBRARY ENTRY
Yung Sun Yeun, speaking last week in his State of the World address, outlined the endless problems the World Group faces in confronting widespread famine, peacekeeping issues, and climate change. The global population is completely out of control. Numerous species are dying off. And these were, of course, only the tip of the iceberg. Dr. Yeun, fortunately, is a realist. He understands the planet’s resources are limited and should not be wasted on initiatives that contribute nothing toward global survival. We do not need more maglev train routes, he said. We have no use for enhanced space-born energy systems when the ones in place are performing more than adequately. We can get along without bigger navies. It’s hard to see how we profit from interstellar exploration. We don’t even need, he says, to ensure the survival of the human race by establishing off-world bases. Our first obligation, he maintains, is to take care of our home world. Any action that diverts resources from that single objective should cease. Our prime concern is the people we have, not the ones who may one day be running around the Orion Arm. It’s clearly time for the members of the World Group to follow Dr. Yeun’s leadership. We’re discovering that intelligent life seems to have gone missing among the stars. Unfortunately, we don’t see many signs of it here, either.