The Zenith Angle - Bruce Sterling [49]
“Times change.”
“But why are they wasting your valuable time? Why you? You’re the computer-science gold standard, man. Can’t they FedEx their little password crypto puzzles over to Merwinster? You’ve got a decent place up there.”
“I’m selling my house.”
“No way! It can’t be!” Tony blinked. “Mondiale is cratering that hard? Mondiale, too?”
Van nodded. “On a federal salary, I can’t pay the real-estate taxes on that place. I’ll be lucky to sell it. I wish I knew who could buy it. The whole town’s been turned inside out.”
Tony’s face fell. Tony was a rich kid from a wealthy family, but the money issue between them had never much bothered Van. Dottie’s dad was also pretty well-to-do, and Dottie was just fine. “I knew your scene up there had a serious downturn, but . . . Did you tell that to Dottie?”
“She can do math.”
“You didn’t tell her, then.”
Van said nothing. He and his wife kept separate bank accounts. When Van’s salary and stock had begun skyrocketing with the Internet boom, that didn’t seem the proper time to confront Dottie with some strange demand that they change their usual financial arrangements. That was too much like one of those creepy post-nuptial agreements. Van was never going to dump Dottie Vandeveer for some puff-headed trophy wife. Mondiale’s other VPs might like to pull such stunts, but those clowns were just money people.
“You been out to see her lately, Van?”
“Not lately. We called at Christmas. Talked a lot.”
“Seen her ever? Since she moved to the Facility?”
“Well, no. We’re both working like crazy.”
Now Tony was truly shocked. “Look, Van. Maybe I shouldn’t comment here. But I’ve known Dottie even longer than I’ve known you. I’ve seen her in Colorado, I dunno, five times in the past two months. And you can’t fly out there to the site? You married her, fella. What is the problem?”
“We trade e-mail every day.”
Tony topped up Van’s foam cup, a pitying look on his face. “My man, look at this dark place you’re in. You really sleep in here? Are you a fifth-level federal Dungeons and Dragons troll? Are you a kobold now? Are you Gollum? She’s never seen you in this awful place, am I right?”
Van nodded.
“Well, thank God for that.” Tony sighed. “I’d better cut to the chase right away. It’s up to me to take you two in hand. Van, she is sensitive. She is lonely and vulnerable. She’ll never call you first. She has that kind of proud shyness that really bright women get. She would rather be shot first. You’ve got to tell her that you want to see her. You’ve got to insist, Van.”
Van blinked. He lowered his voice. “Well, man, it’s kind of hard to just go and do that . . .”
Tony touched the vest of virgin wool within his trench coat. “Van, was I right before? Ten years ago, I told you all this. Word for word. I made you call Dottie. I practically beat you into making that first call. Was I right?”
The brandy was hitting Van now. There was a hot rush to his bearded cheeks. “Yeah, Tony. Yeah, you did that for me. Yeah, you were right.”
“So. What is your deliverable, then?”
“Well,” said Van, “I guess maybe . . . There is this big conference coming up for the CCIAB, out at this big farm retreat in Virginia . . .”
“Which one? Coulfax? Erlette House?”
“Erlette House, yeah, that’s the place.”
“Oh, yeah. That would be perfect. CIA, DoD, Bell Labs, DARPA, they all do big seminars there. The food is fantastic, beautiful landscaping, ponds, swans, arbors, flower gardens, man, the wine cellar’s two hundred years old! Erlette House is where every undersecretary takes the sexy intern.” Tony laughed. “End of your problem, my man.”
Van sat up straighter. That did sound pretty good, really. The Erlette House event wasn’t till early spring, but by March the CCIAB would be delivering its recommendations. And he, Van, would be leaving the little board for some heavy-duty, long-term, permanent federal post. Or else contemplating sudden unemployment. Either way he should have Dottie with him. To celebrate with him, or commiserate, or . .