“By definition, if you insist. That doesn’t mean a, an ascetic and a libertine are the same. I’ve had nowhere else to go but where I am.”
Christine regarded her. “I don’t want to pry,” she said at length. “If I start that, slap me down, please. But I think you know more about people than you realize you do.”
“How? I grew up in the project that developed holothetics, since I was two years old, a war orphan adopted into a military research reservation. It turns out a holothete must begin almost that early. You were-eighteen, did you tell me? -when you started training to become a linker. My first memory is of being linked. It marks a person.” Joelle squeezed the clasp that joined hers.
“I’m not complaining. On the whole, I’ve had a satisfactory life. However, it’s not been like yours.”
“Not in the least? I – . . well, you’ve shunned intimate relationships on this trip, I’ve seen you fend off advances that weren’t always casual, but
-forgive me, I do not want to pry. Still, gossip -no, common knowledge, to speak plainly-you’ve had your involvements.”
Eric Stranathan, Joelle remembered, and for an instant Beta was altogether gone, he and she were at Lake Louise and there was nobody else.
Afterward he, a proud man, a son of the Captain General of the Fraser Valley, could not endure the idea of being a mere linker vis-à-vis her (for this was when the understanding of what it meant to be a holothete had exploded into bloom) and bade farewell. You wouldn’t have heard of Eric, Chris. You weren’t born then. You’re thinking of my occasional lovers since, mostly fellow holothetes, bodily pleasure and little else, except, I suppose to a degree, Dan Brodersen.
“Nothing profound,” she said. The hand in hers belied her.
“You’ve been like a mother to me,” the Jamaican said. “That’s why I dare turn to you now.”
A mother, a mother? No, a mother image. In your mind, Chris, you are an ordinary linker, I am a godlike holothete. The truth is, I’ve simply been an easy-going superior who gave you some advanced instruction. (You are youth and loveliness. I am agedness that suddenly is reaching-against its own will, reaching.)
Joelle felt the wind stiffen, minute by minute. She had to raise her voice: “Thank you. Ha, let’s stop talking about me and attack your problem. Tell me whatever you wish, dear.”
Dear.
“I’ve been nerving myself to this for weeks,” said Chris, as if around an obstacle. “Ever since we all agreed we’ve accomplished enough, we can soon head home. Not that I was scared of you. I was scared of myself, afraid to look straight at the conflicts inside me. Can you help?”
“I can try.”
“You, you’ll recall it was jolly at first aboard ship. women and nine men applicants won top grades in tests for the crew assignments, the girls had a fine thing going for them, especially after Joelle opted out of that particular sport. Then Chi and I got serious. When he died- Juan Chichao, planetologist, Side 52
Anderson, Poul – Avatar, The
went into a ravine to examine a granitic outcrop, and fell dead. Later analysis showed that plants growing there exuded a lethal gas in the heat of noontide, which an inversion layer trapped and concentrated. The Betans were heartbroken.
They had had no idea. That vapor was harmless to them. Looking back, I suppose I did go a bit wild, grieving, afterward hanging around, he handled her tasks gallantly well. They were somewhat menial, too, demand for a computerman being small while the expedition endeavored to learn about an entire world. Torsten stabilized me. He’s been incredibly kind, strong, thoughtful. I shudder to think what a mood drug zombie I might be by now if it weren’t for him.”
I could not have done that for you, could I? twisted within Joelle.
Aloud: “You underrate yourself. You’re healthy, you’d’ve recovered on your own.”
Reluctantly: “Still, it’s obvious he gave you a large boost. You feel in his debt.” I have watched you and him day by day, I have watched you hour by hour, Chris.