Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [175]
They both laughed, thinking about Phil Chase and his I’ll see what I can dos. “They all say it,” Charlie complained.
“Now, now. They are seeing what they can do. You must give them that.”
“I don’t give them that. They’re seeing what they can’t do.”
Drepung waggled a hand, smiling. He too had had to put people off, Charlie saw.
They leaned out to try and spot Frank.
As they peered down, Charlie found that he felt better. Talking with someone else about this matter had eased the sense of isolation that had been oppressing him. He wasn’t used to having something he couldn’t talk to Anna about, and without her, he had been at a loss.
And the news that Drepung was the true power in Khembali affairs, once he got over it, was actually quite reassuring. Rudra Cakrin, when all was said and done, was a strange old man. It was far better to have someone he knew and trusted in charge of this business.
“I’ll talk to Rudra Cakrin about it,” Drepung said.
“I thought you said he was a front man.”
“No no. A . . . a colleague. I need to consult with him, for sure. For one thing he would probably conduct the ceremony. He is the oracle. But that also means he will know what ceremonies I refer to. There are some precedents. Certain accidents, mistakes rectified . . . there are some things I can look into.”
Charlie nodded. “Good. You remember what I said about Anna welcoming you to NSF.”
“Yes.” Drepung grimaced. “Actually, it was the oracle who told us to take that office.”
“Come on, what, he said ‘Move to 4201 Wilson Boulevard?’ ”
“Not exactly.”
“No I guess not! Well, whatever. Just remember how Anna feels about it. It’s probably very much like your mom felt.”
Charlie was surprised to hear himself going for the jugular like that. Then he thought of Joe clutching at him, frightened and pitiful, and his mouth clenched. He wanted all this business cleared away. The fever would follow.
They watched the river roil by. White patches on black water.
“Look—it looks like Frank is trying to catch that kayaker’s attention.”
“It sure does.”
The woman was now resting, paddle flat across the kayak in front of her, gliding downstream. Frank was hurrying downstream to stay abreast of her, stumbling once or twice on the rocky bank, hands to his mouth to cup shouts out to her. He started waving his arms up and down. He came to a flatter patch and ran to get ahead of her. He semaphored with his arms, megaphoned with his hands, jumped up and down.
“He must know that person?”
“Or something. But she must be hearing him, don’t you think?”
“It seems like it. Seeing him too, for that matter. She must not want to be interrupted.”
“I guess.”
It was hard to see how she couldn’t be noticing him; which meant she must be ignoring him on purpose. She floated on, and he continued to chase her, scrambling over boulders now, shouting still.
She never turned her head. A big boulder blocked Frank’s way and he slipped, went to his knees, held out his arms; but now she was past him, and did not look back.
Finally his arms fell. Head bowed, shoulders slumped—the very figure of a man whose hopes have been dashed.
Charlie and Drepung looked at each other.
“Do you think that Frank is seeming kind of . . .”
“Yes.”
Frank dropped by the Quiblers’ on a Saturday morning to pick up Nick and go to the zoo. He got there early and stood in the living room while they finished their breakfast. Charlie, Anna, and Nick were all reading as they ate, and so Joe stared at the back of his cereal box with a look of fierce determination, as if to crack the code of this staring business by sheer force of will. Seeing this Frank’s heart went out to him, and he circled the table and crouched by him to chat.
Soon Nick went to get ready, but before they left he wanted to show Frank a new computer game. Frank stood behind him, doing his best to comprehend the action on the screen. “How come he exploded like that?”
“It takes like weird mutant bad scientist stuff.”
“I see. And whoah, how come that one blew up?”
“I’m attacking him with an invisible character.”
“Is he good?