Troy missed the interplay between Carol and Nick. So he was quite surprised, when he turned around and sat down after the final applause, to find Nick’s shoulders set in an unmistakable pose of hostility. “Wasn’t she wonderful, angel?” Troy said to Carol. “And how about you, Professor? Was this the first time you heard her sing?”
Nick nodded. “She was great,” he said, almost grudgingly. “And I am thirsty. Can a man get a drink in this place?”
Troy was slightly offended. “Well, pardon us,” he said. “So sorry that the entertainment lasted so long.” He tried to signal for the waiter. “What’s eating him, angel?” he said conversationally to Carol.
Carol shrugged her shoulders. Then, trying to lighten the atmosphere, she leaned toward Nick and tapped him on the forearm on top of the table. “Hey, Nick,” she said, “have you been taking angry pills?”
Nick quickly withdrew his arm and grumbled something inaudible as a reply. He turned away from the conversation and saw that Angie was approaching the table. He stood up automatically and both Carol and Troy joined him. “You were fantastic,” said Carol, a little too loud, just as soon as Angie was within earshot.
“Thanks . . . Hi,” replied Angie, as she walked up to the table and took the chair that Troy had pulled out for her. She spent a few moments graciously acknowledging the praise from people at the nearby tables. Then she sat down and smiled. “You must be Carol Dawson,” she said easily, leaning across the table toward the reporter.
Angie was even more beautiful in person than she had been in the picture on the disc jacket. Her coloring was a dark brown, not quite black. Her makeup, including the light pink lipstick, was muted to permit her natural assets, including virtually perfect white teeth on prominent display when she smiled, to draw the attention. But beyond the beauty was the woman herself. No still photograph could do justice to the natural warmth that radiated from Angie. You liked her immediately.
“And you must be Nick Williams,” Angie said, extending her hand to Nick. He was still standing, looking uncomfortable and uncertain, although Troy had already seated himself. “Troy has told me so many things about you in the past few days, I feel as if we’re already friends. He claims that you’ve read every novel ever written that’s worth reading.”
“That’s an exaggeration, of course,” Nick replied, obviously pleased to be recognized. He seemed to loosen up a little and finally sat down. He started to add another comment but Carol jumped into the conversation and cut him off.
“Did you write that beautiful song about the blind man yourself?” she asked, before Angie had really had time to sit down and collect herself. “It seemed to be a very personal statement.”
“Yes,” Angie answered Carol pleasantly, without a trace of irritation at Carol’s aggressive behavior. “Most of my material comes from other sources, but occasionally I write a song myself. When it is a very special subject for me.” She smiled briefly at Troy before continuing. “My father is a remarkable, loving man, blind from birth but with an uncanny comprehension of the world at all levels. Without his patience and guidance, I probably would never have had the courage to sing as a little girl. I was too shy and self-conscious. But my father convinced all of us when we were small that we were somehow special. He told us that God had given each of us something unusual, something uniquely ours, and that one of the great joys of life was discovering and then developing that special talent.”
“And that song, ‘Let Me Take Care of You, Baby,’ did you really write that for Troy?” Nick blurted out his question before Angie had finished her sentence. He thereby destroyed the soft mood created by Angie’s loving description of her father. Nick was on the edge of his chair and for some reason seemed agitated and unsettled. Troy wondered again what he had missed in the interaction between Carol and Nick that had caused his friend to become so tense.
Angie looked at Troy. “I guess so,” she said with a wistful smile, “although it was originally meant to be a playful tune, a light commentary on the game of love.” She stopped for a moment. “But it does talk about a real problem. It’s very hard sometimes being a successful women. It interferes — ”
“Amen. Amen,” Carol interrupted while Angie was still developing her thought. This was one of Carol’s favorite subjects and she was ready to pounce on the opportunity. “Most men cannot deal with a woman who is the least bit successful, much less in the spotlight.” She looked directly at Nick and then continued, “Even now, in 1994, there are still unwritten rules that must be followed. If you want to have a permanent relationship with a man, there are three don’ts: Don’t let him think you’re smarter than he is, don’t suggest sex first, and, above all, don’t make more money than he does. These are the three key areas where their egos are extremely fragile And if you undermine the ego of any man, even when you’re just kidding with him, then it s a lost cause.”
“Sounds like you’re an expert,” Nick replied sarcastically. His hostility was obvious. “I wonder if it ever occurred to any of you liberated females that men are not put off by your success, but rather by the way you handle it. What you accomplish in life does not mean shit at the personal level. Most ambitious, aggressive women I have met (and now he was looking directly at Carol) go out of their way to make male-female relationships into some kind of competition. They will not let the man, even for a moment, have the illusion that he lives in a patriarchal society. I think some of them purposely emasculate — ”
“There it is,” Carol jumped in triumphantly. She nudged Angie, who was smiling but still a little embarrassed at the rancor in this exchange. “That’s the magic word. Whenever a woman wants to argue and not accept as gospel some profound male truth, she is trying to ‘castrate’ or ‘emasculate’ — ”
“Okay, you guys,” Troy interjected firmly, shaking his head. “That’s enough. Let’s change the subject. I had thought that maybe you two could enjoy an evening together, but not if we’re going to start this way.”
“The problem,” Carol continued, now looking at Angie and ignoring Troy’s request, “is that men are frightened. Their hegemony in the Western world is threatened by the emergence of women who aren’t willing to be just barefoot and pregnant. Why, when I was at Stanford — ”
She stopped and turned when she heard the legs of a chair scraping across the Roor. “With all due respect, Miss Leatherwood,” Nick was standing up again, holding the chair in his hand, “I believe I will excuse myself. I thoroughly enjoyed your music, but I do not wish to subject you to any more bad manners. I wish you continued good fortune in your career and I hope that someday you can spend some time on the boat with Troy and me.” Nick turned to Troy. “I’ll see you at the marina at eight o’clock in the morning.” Finally he looked at Carol. “You, too, if you still want to go. You can tell us about the wimps at Stanford while we’re out in the middle of the Gulf.”
Nick did not wait for a reply He picked up the envelope and walked back through the crowd toward the exit. As he was approaching the door he heard a voice calling him, “Nick. Oh, Nick. Over here.” It was Julianne, waving to him from a nearby table full of glasses and ashtrays. She and Corinne and Linda were surrounded by half a dozen men but Julianne was moving them all around and pulling up an empty chair. Nick walked over to her table.
Thirty minutes later Nick was very drunk. The combination of Julianne’s occasionally brushing his leg, Corinne’s gigantic breasts (they were covered now but he could remember them from Troy’s game in the afternoon), and intermittent glimpses of Carol through the cigarette smoke had made him very horny as well. God damn it, Williams, he had thought to himself when he first sat down with Julianne’s group. You blew it again. Here you had this perfect chance to charm her. Maybe even score. But half an hour later, after the drinks, his thoughts were more reminiscent of Aesop’s fox. She’s too aggressive for me anyway. Famous. Pushy. Probably too hard underneath And cold in bed. Another ballbuster. Yet still he watched her from across the room.
/> The extra chairs that had been brought in for Angie’s performance were cleared away to make room for dancing. A disc jockey orchestrated the rest of the evening from a booth next to the stage; one could dance to a variety of modern musical selections, watch the outrageously overproduced music videos on the big screens. or just talk, for the music was not overwhelmingly loud. Most of the people around Nick were from the marina. During a break in the music, just after Nick had downed another fast tequila, Linda Quinlan leaned across the table. “Come on, Nick,” she said, “let us in on your secret. What did you and Troy find yesterday?”
“Nothing special,” said Nick, remembering his agreement but surprised to discover that he did indeed want to talk about it.
“Rumor says different,” jumped in one of the men at the table. “Everybody knows that you took something to Amanda Winchester this morning. Come on, tell us what it was. Have you found a new treasure ship?”
“Maybe,” said Nick, a drunken grin on his face, “just maybe.” Another strong impulse pushed him to tell the story and show the pictures, but he stopped himself. “I can’t talk about it,” was all he would say.
At this moment two burly young men, short-haired Navy types wearing officer’s uniforms, were making a beeline for Nick’s table from the other side of the floor. One of them was dark, Hispanic. Their approach was confident, even arrogant, and their arrival at the table stopped all the conversation. The white lieutenant put his hand on Julianne’s shoulder. “All right, gorgeous,” he said boldly, “the Navy is here. Why don’t you and your friend there (he nodded at Corinne — Ramirez was standing behind her), come and dance with us?”
Julianne said, “No, thank you,” very politely and smiled. Todd looked down at her. He was weaving just a little and it was clear from his eyes that he had been drinking heavily.
“You mean to tell me,” he said, “that you would prefer to sit here with these local geeks rather than dance with future admirals?” Julianne felt his hand tighten on her shoulder. She looked around the table and tried to ignore him.
Todd did not like rejection. He took his hand off Julianne’s shoulder and pointed at Corinne’s breasts. “Christ, Ramirez, you were right. They are monsters. Wouldn’t you like to snarf one of those?” The two lieutenants laughed crudely. Corinne squirmed self-consciously.
Linda Quinlan’s steady boyfriend rose from his chair. Other than Nick, he was the only one of the men at the table who was approximately the same size as Todd and Ramirez. “Look, guys,” he said reasonably, “the lady said no very nicely. There is no need to insult her or her friends — ”
“Listen to him, Ramirez,” Todd interrupted, “this character said we insulted someone. Since when is admiring the size of someone’s cachunga’s an insult?” He chuckled to himself at his cleverness. Ramirez made a sign to leave but Todd waved him off.
The drunken Nick had been ready to explode all night. “Get out of here, asshole,” he said, quietly but firmly. He was still sitting down next to Julianne.
“Who are you calling asshole, cocksucker?” the truculent Lieutenant Todd replied. He turned to Ramirez. “I do believe that I am going to be forced to strum the head of this impertinent bastard.”
But Nick was ahead of him. Rising swiftly, he uncoiled a vicious punch that struck Todd full in the face and sent him tumbling backwards, into another table covered with drinks. Todd and the table crashed to the floor and Nick went after him. Ramirez pulled Nick off his fellow officer and, when Nick turned and swung at him as well, Ramirez gave Nick a push that caused his unsteady legs to give way. Nick fell back over Julianne and another full table collapsed upon the floor
From across the room Carol and Angie and Troy could see the fracas and recognize Nick in the middle of it. “Uh oh,” Troy said, jumping up to go to his friend’s aid. Carol was right behind him. When they reached the opposite side of the room, both club bouncers were already on top of the action. Meanwhile, Nick and Julianne were still trying to get unscrambled on the floor and Todd was slowly rising to his feet.
In the fight, the envelope of photos had been knocked free and a couple of them had fallen partially out. Ramirez had picked the envelope up off the floor and, because of the bright colors, was looking at the pictures. The close-up of the brown missile in the fissure was clearly visible in the top photo. “Hey,” he said to the shaken Todd, “look at this. What do you think this is all about?”
Carol acted instantly. She walked past Ramirez, grabbed the envelope and pictures, and before he could say anything, she screamed, “Not again, Nick, no, I don’t believe it. How could you be drunk again?” She knelt down beside Nick on the floor and cradled his head in her free hand. “Oh, darling,” she said, as he stared at her in complete disbelief, “you promised that you’d stop.”
The astonished crowd watched as Carol kissed Nick full on the mouth to prevent his saying anything. Troy was amazed. “Troy,” she shouted a moment later, while Nick was trying to gather his wits. “Troy, where are you? Here, give me a hand.” Troy rushed up and helped Nick to his feet. “We’re taking him home now,” she announced to the onlookers. She and Troy each took one arm and the three of them stumbled toward the door of the nightclub. They passed the manager in the doorway. Carol told him that she would come by the next day to settle accounts. She and Troy half carried Nick into the street.
As they walked away from Sloppy Joe’s, Carol turned around and saw that part of the crowd had followed them to the door. Ramirez and Todd, the latter still rubbing his cheek, were standing in front of the group with puzzled expressions on their faces. “Where are we taking him, angel?” Troy asked when they were out of earshot. “We don’t even know where he parked his car.
“It doesn’t matter,” Carol replied, “just as long as we are out of sight of the club.”
The awkward threesome turned right, down the same alley that ran behind the theater where The Night of the Iguana had finished an hour before. Just past the theater there was a small vacant lot on the left Carol stopped the trio at the edge of the lot, opposite a grove of trees, and looked back to make certain they were not being followed. She heaved a sigh and loosened her grip on Nick. She unconsciously fanned her sweating face with the envelope she had recovered from Ramirez.
Nick was now almost coherent. “I had no idea,” he mumbled to Carol, pulling his arm free from Troy and trying to embrace her, “that you felt that way about me.”
“I don’t,” Carol said emphatically. She pushed his arms away and backpedaled toward the vacant lot. Nick didn’t understand and continued his approach. “Stop,” she shouted angrily at him. “Stop, you drunken bastard.”
She tried to fend off his advance with her hands. But he kept coming. Just before Troy moved up to restrain him, Carol slapped Nick hard in the face with the hand that was not holding the envelope. Momentarily startled Nick lost his footing and fell into the grass on his stomach.
Still fuming, Carol bent down beside him and forcefully rolled him over on his back. “Don’t you ever, ever, use physical force with me,” she shouted at Nick. “Not under any circumstances.” She dropped the envelope on Nick’s stomach and stood up quickly. She looked at Troy, shook her head in disgust, and stalked off down the alley.
ASSEMBLY AND TEST
UNDER the scanning electron microscope they look like tightly coiled springs with a small tail. When they are placed in water or some other liquid, the springs seem to stretch out and cilialike appendages extend a few angstroms out from the tail to provide motility.
There are millions of them concentrated in a mixture the size of a tiny drop of water and they are being carefully checked by a laser device that is also counting and sorting them as it illuminates microscopic portions of the mixture. When the count is completed, the smaller division of the separated mixture is sluiced out of the metal receptacle and down a channel into another liquid, this one emerald green in color, that is contained in a bottle-shaped beaker. The springs spread out and follow random paths
in wandering around the beaker.
External mechanisms regularly churn the emerald green liquid. Around the inside of the beaker, tiny sensors register the temperature, pressure, and exact chemical and electrical characteristics of the fluid. Some parameter is not absolutely perfect. A small valve opens a port in the base of the beaker and a new chemical is injected into the green solution. Continuous measurements monitor the diffusion of this additional material. At length the fluid is properly altered and a new equilibrium is reached.
Everything is now ready. From above several thousand small pellets are dropped into the container. Some of these pellets float on the surface but most sink to variable depths in the liquid. Embedded in each of the pellets is a complicated engineering construction on an amazingly miniaturized scale. The external surface of the pellets contains sensors that scan the nearby region of the liquid for the springlike objects. A high-frequency transmitter housed next to the sensors directs a call to the springs and attracts them to the neighborhood. Clusters of springs develop around each pellet.
Now, one at a time, these springs are harvested by small instruments inside the spongy outer section of the pellet and then loaded in carriers that are electrically fired toward the central cavity of the pellet. Within that cavity sits a single black, amorphous spot, its exterior constantly changing shape as its opaque material shifts around to follow unknown stimuli. This spot is surrounded by a yellow goo that fills the remainder of the cavity.
The first spring slips out of its carrier, then locates and penetrates the spot. The spring can be seen for an instant moving toward the center. However, it is broken up and destroyed within milliseconds. Other springs are fired into the cavity at regular intervals and all try, after penetration, to reach some special region in the spot. Finally one of the procession succeeds and the spot changes color to bright red. In rapid succession, some enzyme in the spongy outer section of the pellet is dumped into the yellow goo, turning its color a little toward green, and all the rest of the springs disappear, apparently absorbed by the pellet structure. The entire pellet itself next elongates and extends a miniature propulsion system into the emerald liquid. After carefully steering around the many hazards, it then joins the queue of fertilized pellets moving, one by one, through a round diaphanous membrane in the bottom of the beaker.