4
Calvin Gray, Junior Extrapolator, stood nude before his bathroom mirrorand played a no-beard light over his chin and thin cheeks. That shouldtake care of the beard problem for the next six months or so. He leanedforward and examined the fine lines beginning to appear at the cornersof his eyes. Well, that was one of the signs he'd reached the thirtymark. One couldn't stay forever at the peak of youth--not yet, anyway.Perhaps he should think about that sometime.
Trouble was, there was always something more urgent....
He became conscious that Linda was standing in the bathroom doorwatching him. He hadn't heard her get out of bed.
"You used the no-beard just last month, Cal," she said. There was aquestioning note in her voice.
"Want to keep handsome," he said lightly. "Never know when I might haveto run out to some other world. Wouldn't want one of my other wives tocatch me with stubble on my face."
It was a stale joke, a childish one, but it served to introduce thetopic foremost in his mind.
"This Eden problem. I can't plan on it, but I hope it's my solo toqualify me for my big E. I'm due, you know."
Linda chose to avoid coming directly to grips with it.
"Yehudi is already at the door," she said, and made a face ofexasperation. "Someday I'm going to turn off the gadget that signals theorderly room the minute you get out of bed, so I can have you all tomyself."
"It's better if you get used to him," Cal cautioned. "Turn off thesignal and that turns on an alarm. Instead of one Yehudi, you'd havetwenty rushing in to see what was wrong."
"Well, it seems to me a grown man ought to be able to take his morningshower without an observer standing by to see that he doesn't drownhimself or swallow the soap," she commented with a touch of acid.
"Get used to it, woman," he commanded. "There's only one observer now.When--if I get my Senior rating, there'll be three."
She didn't say anything. Instead she stepped over to him, pressed hernude body against his, and tenderly nuzzled his arm.
"Maybe if we go back to bed, he'll go away," she said, and glittered hereyes at him wickedly.
"He won't, but it's a good idea," Cal grinned at her.
"You could tell him to go away," she whispered with a little pout.
She was fighting. She was fighting with the only weapon she had to holdhim, to keep him from going away, to face an unknown. He knew it, andthe bitterness in her eyes, back of her teasing, showed she knew he knewit.
He took her tenderly in his arms, held her close to him, stroked herhair, kissed her mouth. She pulled her face away, buried it in hischest. He felt her sobbing.
He picked her up, lightly, carried her back into the bedroom, laid hergently on the bed, and, oblivious to the attendant who stoodexpressionless inside the door, knelt down beside the bed and held herhead in his arms.
"Don't fight it," he said softly. "It isn't the first time a man has hadto go."
"It's the first time it ever happened to me," she sobbed.
"You knew when you married me.... You agreed...."
"It was easy to agree, then. There was the glamor of being known as thewife of an E. Now that doesn't matter. There's just you, and the thoughtof losing you, never seeing you again."
"I haven't gone yet," he reminded her. "I don't know that I'll get thejob. There are three Seniors at base right now. One of them might wantit. Even if I do get the problem, who says I won't be back? You take oldMcGinnis. He's eighty if he's a day. He's been an E for nigh on to fiftyyears. He's still around, you'll notice."
She was quieter now. She lay, looking at him, drinking in his dark hair,blue eyes, handsome face, the shape of his intelligent head, the slopeof his neck and shoulders, the tapering waist, all the masculine graceand beauty. She pressed her closed fist into her mouth. All the beautyshe might never see again, feel enfolded around her, enfold withherself.
"I'm a little fool," she said through clenched teeth. "Of course you'llbe back. And you'd better make it quick, or I'll come after you."
He kissed her, rumpled her short hair, straightened her crumpled body onthe bed, pulled the sheet over her.
"Why don't you go back to sleep," he suggested. "Rest. I'll havebreakfast in the E club room. That's where we'll be watching the Edenbriefing. Sleep. Sleep all morning."
Gently he closed her eyes with the tip of his forefinger. Gently hekissed her once more. This time she didn't cling to him, try to holdhim.
He tucked the sheet in around her throat. Dutifully, she kept her eyesclosed. He stood up then, and signaled the orderly.
"I'll take my shower now," he said.
The orderly didn't speak, just followed him into the bathroom to standin the doorway and watch him through the shower glass. He was rigidlyobeying the cardinal rule of E.H.Q.
Unless his life is in danger, never interrupt the thinking of an E. Thewhole course of man's destiny in the universe may depend on it.
How much of the future of the universe depended upon his notinterrupting the scene he had just witnessed wasn't for him to say. Hesighed. He thought of his own wife--shrewish, fat, coarse, alwayscomplaining. He wondered what she would do if he picked her up, carriedher to bed, closed her eyes with his fingers. For once, he'd bet, she'dbe speechless.
He must try it sometime. But first, she'd have to lose about fiftypounds.
* * * * *
When Cal got to the E club room two Seniors were already there--McGinnisand Wong. He thought their greeting was a shade more cordial, a shademore interested than usual. They seemed, this time, to be looking at himas if he were a person, not merely a Junior E. When he turned away fromthem to greet the three Juniors, who, along with himself, ranked theclub-room privileges, he became certain of his impressions. Their faceswere frankly envious.
Eden was to be his problem!
He'd hoped for it. Even half expected it. Yet all the way through hisshower, dressing, coming down the elevator from his apartment, he'd beennagged with the fear he might not be considered; that the grief of Lindaand her rise above it would lead only to anticlimax. By the time he'dgot to the club-room door, followed by his orderly, he had alreadyconditioned himself to disappointment.
Now he subdued his elation while he told his orderly what he wanted forbreakfast.
"You fellows join me in something?" he asked both Juniors and Seniors.
"A second cup of coffee," Wong agreed.
"A second bourbon," old McGinnis said drily.
The Juniors shook their heads negatively. Yesterday they had been hisconstant companions, only a few degrees below him in accomplishment,pushing rapidly to become his equal competitors for the next solo.Today, this morning, there was already a gap between them and him, achasm they would make no move to bridge until they had earned theright. They seated themselves at another table, apart.
"Of course we haven't asked you if you want this Eden problem," McGinniscommented while orderlies placed food and drink in front of them. "Weought to ask him, hadn't we, Wong?"
"First I should ask if either of you want it?" Cal said quickly. "Orperhaps Malinkoff, if he shows up."
"Malinkoff is too deep in something to come to the briefing," Wong said.
"Wong and I came only to help on your first solo, if we can," McGinnissaid. "Always think a young fellow needs a little send-off. I remember,about fifty years ago, more or less ..."
"Worst thing to guard against," Wong interrupted, "is disappointment.This whole thing might add up to nothing. Might not turn out to be agenuine solo at all, just something any errand boy could do. In thatcase it wouldn't qualify you. You know that."
"Sure," Cal said. Naturally the problem would have to give realchallenge. You didn't just go out and knock a home run to become an E.You tackled something outside the normal frame of reference, somethingthat required original thinking, the E kind of thinking. You brought itoff successfully. A given number of Seniors reviewed what you'd done. Ifthey thought it was worth something, you got your
big E. If they didn't,you tried again. And you didn't get it by default, just because somebodythought there should be a given quota of Seniors on the list.
"Little or big," he added, "I'd like the problem."
They said no more. He knew the score. He'd had twelve years of the mostintensive training the E's themselves could devise. He knew thatsometimes a Junior spent another ten or twelve years chasing down jobswhich anybody on the spot could have solved if they'd used their heads alittle before they ran on to something that challenged that training.He'd be lucky if this was big enough--but not too big.
That was in their minds, too.