"I can manage," she said rather ungraciously. Nevertheless she clamped the cigar in her teeth and took his arm. He was amazed to find how little she weighed, judging by the pressure on his arm-but the grip of her fingers was firm. Once in the lounging room, in the presence of Phyllis, she said, "Come here, child. Let me look at you."
Hamilton stood by foolishly, not knowing whether to seat himself or leave. The old lady turned, noticing that he was still there and said, "You were very gracious to escort me in to your wife. I thank you." The formal politeness of the words were oddly at variance with her first, brittle remarks, but they were not delivered in warm tones. Felix realised that he had been clearly and unmistakably dismissed. He got out.
He went to his retiring room, selected a scrollscript, fitted it into the reader, and prepared to kill time until Carvala should leave. But he found himself unable to fix his attention on the story he selected. He found that he had used the rewind button three times and still had no notion of how the story started.
Damn! He thought-I might as well have gone to the office.
For he had an office-now. The thought made him smile a little. He was the man who was never going to be tied down, who had split his profits with a man-of-affairs rather than be troubled with business worries. Yet here he was, married, an expectant father, actually living at the same address as his wife, and-possessing an office! True, the office had nothing to do with his business affairs.
He found himself actually engaged in the Great Research which Mordan had promised. Carruthers Alfred, former member of the Board of Policy until he had retired to pursue his studies, had been co-opted as instigator for the enlarged project. He in turn had co-opted Hamilton, who had protested, that he was no synthesist, nor scientist. Nevertheless Carruthers wanted him. "You have an erratic and unorthodox imagination," he had said. "This job calls for imagination, the more heterodox the better. You needn't do routine research, if you don't want to-plenty of patient technicians for that."
Felix suspected that Mordan had had something to do with his selection, but did not press him about it. Mordan, Hamilton knew, had an over-rated opinion of his ability. He esteemed himself as a second-rater, a competent and high-powered man, but a second-rater nonetheless. That chart that Mordan talked about-you could not compress a man into a diagram and hang him on a wall. He was not that chart. And didn't he know more about himself, from sitting on the inside, than any genetic technician could learn by peering down the double barrel of a 'scope?
But he had to admit he was glad that he had been invited into the project-it interested him. He had realized quite early that the enlarged project had not been taken up just to circumvent his balkiness-the transcript of authorization had shown him that. But he did not feel cheated-Mordan had delivered everything that he had promised, and Felix had become interested in the project for its own sake-both projects. Both the great public project of the Great Research and the private matter of himself, Phyllis, and their child to come.
He wondered what the little tyke would be like.
Mordan seemed confident that he knew. He had shown them the diploid chromosome chart resulting from their carefully chosen gametes, expounding on how the characteristics of the two parents would be combined in the child. Felix was not so sure; in spite of his own reasonably thorough knowledge of genetic theory and technique he was not convinced that all of a human being's multifold complexity could be wrapped up in a little blob of protoplasm smaller than a pin point. It was not reasonable. There had to be more to a man than that.
Mordan had seemed to find it highly desirable that he and Phyllis possessed so many Mendelian characteristics in common. It not only, he pointed out, made the task of selection of gametes much simpler and shorter, but also insured reinforcement of those characteristics, genetically. Paired genes would be similar, instead of opposed.
On the other hand, Hamilton found that Mordan favored the alliance of Monroe-Alpha and Hartnett Marion, although they were as dissimilar as two persons could be. Hamilton pointed out the inconsistency in reasoning. Mordan had been unperturbed. "Each genetic case is a discrete individual. No rule in genetics is invariable. They complement each other."
It was certainly obvious that Marion had made Cliff happy, happier than Felix had ever seen him.
The big dope.
He had long been of the opinion that what Cliff needed was a keeper, to lead him around on a string, fetch him indoors when it rained, and tickle him when he pouted. (Not that the opinion subtracted from his very real devotion to his friend.)
Marion seemed to qualify on all counts. She hardly let him out of her sight. She worked with him, under the euphemistic title of "special secretary."
"'Special secretary'?" Hamilton said, when Monroe-Alpha told him about it. "What does she do? Is she a mathematician?"
"Not at all. She doesn't know a thing about mathematics-but she thinks I'm wonderful!" He grinned boyishly-Hamilton was startled to see how it changed his face. "Who am I to contradict her?"
"Cliff, if you keep that up, you'll have a sense of humor yet."
"She thinks I have one now."
"Perhaps you have. I knew a man who raised warthogs once. He said they made the flowers more beautiful."
"Why did he think that?" Monroe-Alpha was puzzled and interested.
"Never mind. Just what is it that Marion does?"
"Oh, a lot of little things. Keeps track of things I forget, brings me a cup of tea in the afternoon. Mostly she's just here when I want her. When a concept won't come straight and my head feels tired, I look up and there's Molly, just sitting there, looking at me. Maybe she's been reading, but when I look up I don't have to say anything-she's looking back at me. I tell you it helps, I never get tired anymore." He smiled again.
Hamilton realized with sudden insight that there never had been anything wrong with Monroe-Alpha except that the poor boob had never been happy. He had no defenses against the world-until now. Marion had enough for both of them.
He had wanted to ask Cliff what Hazel thought of the new arrangements, but hesitated to do so. despite their close friendship. Monroe-Alpha brought it up himself. "You know, Felix, I was a little worried about Hazel."
"So?"
"Yes. I know she had said she wanted to enter a divorce, but I hadn't quite believed her."
"Why not?" Felix had inquired blandly.
Monroe-Alpha had colored. "Now, Felix, you're just trying to get me mixed up. Anyhow, she seemed positively relieved when I told her about Marion and me. She wants to take up dancing again."
Felix thought with regret that it was a mistake for a retired artist to attempt a comeback. But Cliff's next words made him realize he had been hasty. "It was Thorgsen's idea-"
"Thorgsen? Your boss?"
"Yes. He had been telling her about the outstations, particularly the ones on Pluto, of course, but he mentioned Mars and the rest, I suppose. They don't get much recreation, other than canned shows and reading." Hamilton knew what he meant, although he had never thought much about it. With the exception of the tourist cities on Luna there was nothing to attract human beings to the other planets, save for exploration and research. The devoted few who put up with the unearthly hardships necessarily lived a monklike existence. Luna was a special case, naturally; being practically in Earth's front yard and an easy jump, it was as popular for romantic holidays as Southpole had once been.
"She got the idea, or Thorgsen suggested it to her, of getting together a diversified travelling troupe to play a circuit of all the outposts."
"It doesn't sound commercial."
"It doesn't have to be. Thorgsen took the matter up for subsidy. He argued that, if research and exploration were necessary, then morale of the personnel involved was a government matter, in spite of the longstanding policy against government participation in the entertainment business, luxury business, or fine arts."