"I know-I've seen it-"
"Go on. Tell me, what's rage."
"Rage is the fighting machine gearing up."
"Right," she said. "And we know we can't fight the worms, can we? They've already demonstrated that we can't outfight them. So, what comes next, James?"
"Uh-"
"What comes after rage, James?"
"I don't know-"
"Come on, what happens after you've been arguing the same argument for a week?"
"I don't know about you, but I get bored-"
"Right. Boredom." She nodded with satisfaction. "After you've raged and raged and raged and used up all your energy and frustration, suppose the thing you're frightened of, angry at, raging at, is still sitting there picking its teeth and grinning at you. That's when you get tired of being angry. We call that boredom. Or annoyance. But now that you've given up being angry, there's room for you to actually become interested in that thing-whatever it is-that scared you in the first place. That's how the machinery works. It isn't until you let go of the yipe that you have room for the goody, right?"
"Right."
"That's the machinery, James. That's what you're operating on top of. You can't stop it from running. You never could. Now, why do you think I'm telling you all this?"
"So, I can-uh ... well, the object of this is to establish communication, so this is about not letting the monkey machinery get in the way of the communication ... right?" I grinned, I knew it was.
"Right." She grinned right back. "I want you to finish being afraid and angry and bored in here. Don't take that into the circle or that's what the circle will be about. When you give up all that stuff-what can you do?"
I shrugged. "Nothing, I think."
"Don't be flip. What can you do after you give up all those monkey-machine reactions?"
I shrugged again. "Have a party?"
"That's exactly right. After all that other stuff is taken care of, there's nothing left to do but play together. You make up a gamecall it business or marriage or United States Congress-but it's still only a very fancy game played by very fancy monkeys. So ... do you know what you have to do in that circle?"
"Make up a game for monkeys and bunnies."
"You got it. That's all you have to do. If you're fun to play with, the communication will take care of itself."
"Yes, I see-I really do." I was marveling at the simplicity of it. "I have to leave my rifle behind. I have to leave my military mind-set behind. I have to even leave my scientist act behind. I have to just-I see it!-I have to just go in there as a monkey who wants to play, don't I?"
"Congratulations." She beamed at me and shook my hand. "As Chief Medical Officer of this operation, I hereby pronounce you fit for duty. You are the best chimpanzee in the United States Army." She handed me a banana.
"Only a banana?" I asked. "I don't get a mate?"
"That, James, is part of the graduate course."
FIFTY-ONE
THE FINAL meeting of the presentation team took place at eighteen hundred hours.
Colonel Tirelli, Dr. Fletcher, Dr. Larson, three staff members I didn't recognize, the two women on the audio-video team, five observers, three mission specialists, six pilots, two programmers, two spider handlers, and the weapons team. I almost felt crowded.
There wasn't a lot of business that needed to be handled. Even Dr. Fletcher admitted that. We checked the weather forecasts, narrowed our choice of target sites-we'd make the final selection tomorrow morning-and then opened it up for questions. There weren't a lot.
Colonel Tirelli took over then and asked if anyone wanted to reconsider their decision to participate. This was a strictly volunteer operation and if anybody present wanted to drop out, they could do so now-or they could see her privately if they preferred. "You have until-" she looked at her watch, considered, and said, "-twenty-one hundred hours. There are backup people available, I assure you-so don't feel that you have to do this. The operation is dangerous, so do consider your participation carefully. If I don't hear from you by twenty-one hundred hours, I will assume that you have made a complete and total commitment. Did everyone understand that?"
Affirmative nods.
"Well, then-that seems to be it. Does anyone here have anything else to add?"
No. No one.
"Good. Thank you-and good night! Get yourself a good dinner, get to bed early, and get a good night's sleep!"
Most of the team headed for the doors. I headed for the front of the room. Colonel Tirelli was conferring softly with two of her pilots, so I waited politely to one side. When she finished, she looked up and saw me. "Yes, McCarthy?"
"May I talk to you privately?"
Her eyes shaded. "You want to drop out?"
"No! It's just-"
"If it's not about the mission tomorrow-"
"It's something that could affect the mission tomorrow." I said it as pointedly as I could.
"Mm hm. Wait a minute-" She handed her clipboard to one of her aides and then took me out into the hall, around the corner and into a deserted office. She closed the door behind us and leaned back against a desk, leaving an uncomfortable distance between herself and me. "What is it?" she asked. Her expression was polite, curious-and very very cold.
I felt myself flushing. "I-I guess this is a personal thing," I started. "But it's really getting to me. I mean, what's going on?"
She blinked as if she didn't know what I was talking about. "I don't understand."
"We had a date planned, remember? You and I and the biggest lobster on the west coast, remember? I mean, you said some things in the chopper-and I don't know if that was for serious-or if it was just... well, you know, real casual, or what?"
Lizard noticed an ink smudge on her palm. She rubbed at it with her thumb. She wasn't looking at me as she remarked, "That's what I like, a question with a lot of certainty in it." She shoved her hands into her pockets and looked up at me. "Listen, McCarthy. Everything I said to you in the chopper was true. You're cute. You're probably fun in bed. And you're also a lieutenant. One thing I know about lieutenants is that they have permanent erections. It's convenient at times. Most of the time it's not. Your problem is that you're trying to think with your erection. Please don't. It wasn't designed for that."
I stared at her. I wanted to ask, "Who are you really and what have you done with Lizard Tirelli?" Instead, I merely opened my mouth and said, "Is that it-?"
"For now." She looked at her watch. "Don't you have one more meeting tonight?"
"I have some kind of counseling session, yeah-"
"Well, I suggest you get to it." Her expression was impassive. I could see that even being confused would be a waste of time here. I shook my head and stepped past her to the door. Halfway through it, I turned back to her. "This does not make sense to me. And it sure doesn't make me confident about tomorrow."
"I'm sorry, McCarthy-but that's the way it has to be."
"Yeah, sure." I closed the door behind me. Colonels! I'd never understand them.
I found Fletcher back in the meeting room. "Listen, about this counseling session-"
She shook her head. "I'm not your counselor, James. I have nothing to do with that."
"Well-listen, I just want to skip it. I don't feel-"
Fletcher's face hardened. "You do and you don't go tomorrow. You get your ass downstairs, right now!" She turned to one of her assistants. "Jerry--will you escort Lieutenant McCarthy down to the basement? Make sure he gets there."
I remembered Jerry Larson from Denver. He'd lost some weight and cut his hair; it made him look more intelligent than I remembered.
He led me down three flights of stairs (it was faster than the elevator), past the holding tanks (four worms), and into the specimen section, through the greenhouse.