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over already!
Several times she started to tell Hal about the dream since her parents were
all too preoccupied with their own problems to appreciate her nonsense. But
Grant seemed to be steadfastly avoiding the subject of her garden and her
legends. Often, he reiterated that she had to establish her own identity, and
not to let her father's obsession with Wyner's characteristics hang too
heavily upon her.
She applied herself to her studies and training routines until she barely had
time for her garden. Thus every moment spent there became tremendously
precious to her. Early one morning, during her short talk with Grant, she
said, "You know, the first time I ever saw you it was as if you were the first
Gen I'd ever seen."
"And I suddenly knew I'd come to the right place."
"The right place for what?"
"I don't know. To learn, perhaps. I never expected to find such a garden as
this out here in the desert."
Ercy reached around Grant and chose a young carrot, pulling it up with a
gentle, circular motion. She hosed off the dirt and offered it to Grant. "This
is one of my best carrots. It should be sweet and tender. Here for you,
because the growing things of the earth mean as much to you as they do to me."
Their hands touched, and she felt herself tensing as she always did in
contact with him. On a long, exhaled breath, she gave herself the mental
command to relax. All at once, the world stilled and she could feel her whole
bodyliving. In one brief flash, she knew the change working in her, slowly but
steadily, pushing upward toward manifestation.
"Hal, I got it! I knew it for a minute changeover!"
His slow smile surfaced from deep within, as if he were revealing a portion
of the sunshine he carried within himself.
Am I zlinning? No.
She never could remember what he'd said then, and the rest of the day passed
in a fog as she tried to grasp that awareness once more. It was only late that
night as she was trying to fall asleep that it suddenly hit her. The wish had
come true.
She laughed over that, and fell asleep with tears of laughter in her eyes.
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Over the next few days, life became very difficult for her. She didn't tell
her father about her new awareness because she'd only had it once, with no
clue as to her changeover date. Her behavior had already become so erratic
that her parents had taken to simply tolerating her, which embarrassed her
terribly. Even Im'ran treated her as if she were a channel suffering a severe
case of post-syndrome. Half-baked reports of a new perception would only be
taken as another symptom of hysteria.
One thing her parents did, though, pleased her very much. Dinner at the
Controller's Residence was traditionally the big event of the day. The heads
of departments, newly arrived or departing scholars, lecturers, instructors
and researchers, visiting businessmen or Zeor officers, Tecton
representatives, and even out-Territory Inspectors would be invited to dine
with the administration.
Over the last few weeks, however, dinner had become more of an ordeal for
Ercy since people came to see if she were showing any signs of changeover yet.
Then Digen decreed the dinner meal would become, for a short time, a private
family affair. But the night before the first of the changeover party guests
would arrive, Digen came into the large dining room with Grant at his side.
Im'ran and Ercy's mother were rolling in a serving cart while Ercy set four
places. Im'ran turned, saying, "Digen Hello, Hal."
"Ercy," said Digen, "set another place, would you, please?"
She glanced at her mother, and then brought another place setting from the
sideboard. She sensed there was something not
right between Im'ran and Hal. But she didn't know whether it was just that
Hal would be serving her father in transfer. As she helped her mother put the
piping-hot dishes on the table, she listened with one ear as Im'ran took her
father aside for a moment.
". . .no, I don't think her emotional instability is hormonal," said her
father. "I suspect it's just psychological pressure, and will abate
spontaneously when this is over.''
She knew that Im'ran had told him of her latest crying jag. She was becoming
more ashamed of herself every day. How could she meet the people of her House
if she kept behaving like this? Tears started to her eyes again.
"Let me help you with that," said Grant.
Ercy turned to look up into the Gen's face as he bent over the table beside
her. His hand came to rest just brushing her fingers as she placed the soup
tureen on the table next to the fruit salad. All of a sudden, she couldn't
breathe and she thought she was going to faint.
She sent the command of relaxation down her nerves and was gratified when her
muscles melted. Once again, she was suddenly aware of her impending
changeover- a clock ticking away inside herself, and under Grant's touch, the
clock seemed to change tempo.
Grant released her hand, murmured something she didn't catch, and then they
were all seated about the table. Digen took his usual place at the head of the
table, with Im'ran and Mora at his right, Grant and then Ercy at his left.
Suddenly discovering that her flighty appetite had returned, Ercy reached
directly for the steaming casserole. As she helped herself, she saw her father
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glancing in her direction, then zlinning her.
She schooled herself to her best table manners, determined to prove she could
behave if she had to. But inside, she was flying high I feel it, I feel it, I
know it's happening.If she could stay calm, she could feel it whenever she
wanted to.
Digen and Mora took small portions of soup and filled then-plates with a dab
of salad and a thin slice of bread. They were both approaching transfer, need
leaching away their Sime appetites even in the presence of two hungry Gens.
Over the soup, Digen said, "I am glad you could dine with us, Hal."
"My pleasure," said Grant. "This soup is delicious. And I did understand you
had something you wanted to talk about."
"Compliments on the soup go to Im'ran," said Digen, smiling
at his orhuen mate. "He's the master chef who engineers the Controller's
Residence specialties."
Im'ran chuckled. "Yes it's called throwing all the best leftovers together. A
fine art." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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