Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [11]
“I bet. Let me know if we can help with that.”
“Thanks, I will.”
He wondered what she meant, but did not want to ask. “One thing I’m looking into is joining an exercise club around here, and Anna mentioned that you went to one?”
“Yes, I go to the Optimodal.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sure, it’s okay. It’s not too expensive, and it has all the usual stuff. And it’s not just kids showing off. Most days I just get on a treadmill and go.” She laughed. “Like a rat on a wheel.”
Just like at work, Frank didn’t say.
“Actually I’ve been trying more of the machines,” she added. “It’s fun.”
Frank got the address from her, and they went back to the serving area for pie and ice cream (her portion small), and talked a bit more about work. She never made even the slightest hint of reference to his letter of resignation. That was strange enough to disturb his sense of being in a normal professional relationship. It was as if she were in some way holding it over him.
Then, walking in the covered walkway above the street to the NSF building, she said, “Let’s set up a regular meeting between us for every two weeks, and add more if you need to. I want to be kept up on what you’re thinking.”
Quickly he glanced down at her. She kept looking at the glass doors they were approaching.
“That’s the best way to avoid any misunderstandings,” she went on, still not looking at him. Then, as they reached the doors to their building, she said, “I want something to come of this.”
“Me too,” he assured her. “Believe me.”
They approached the security desk. “So what will you do first?” she asked, as if something had been settled between them.
“To tell the truth, I think I’ll go see about joining that health club.”
She grinned. “Good idea. I’ll see you there sometimes.”
He nodded. “And, as far as the working committee, I’ll start making calls and setting it up. I’d like to get Edgardo on it too, if you think that would be okay.”
She laughed. “If you can talk him into it.”
So. Frank returned to his office, collecting his thoughts. A workman was there installing a power strip on the newly exposed wall behind his desk, and he waited patiently until the man left. He sat at the desk, swiveled and looked out the window at the mobile in the atrium.
He had spent the night in his car and then lunched with the director of the National Science Foundation, and no one was the wiser. He did feel a little spacy. But when appearances were maintained, no one could tell. Nothing obvious gave it away. One retained a certain privacy.
Remembering a resolution he had made that morning, he picked up the phone and called the National Zoo.
“Hi, I’m calling to ask about zoo animals that might still be at large?”
“Sure, let me pass you to Nancy.”
Nancy came on and said hi in a friendly voice, and Frank told her about hearing what seemed like a big animal, near the edge of the park at night. “Do you have a list of zoo animals still on the loose?”
“Sure, it’s on our website. Do you want to join our group?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a committee of the volunteer group, FONZ? Friends of the National Zoo. You can join that, it’s called the Feral Observation Group.”
“The FOG?”
“Yes. We’re all in the FOG now, right?”
“Yes.”
She gave him the website address, and he checked it out. It turned out to be a good one. Some 1500 FONZies already. There was a page devoted to the Khembalis’ swimming tigers, and on the FOG page, a list of the animals that had been spotted, as well as a separate list for animals missing since the flood and not yet seen. There was a jaguar on this list. And gibbons had been seen, eight of them, white-cheeked gibbons, along with three siamangs. Almost always in Rock Creek Park.
“Hmmm.” Frank recalled the cry he had heard at dawn, pursued the creatures through the web pages. Gibbons and siamangs both hooted in a regular dawn chorus; siamangs were even louder than gibbons, being larger. Could be heard six miles rather than one.
It looked like being in FOG might confer permission to go into Rock Creek Park.