Sandy asked VISAR for two coffees. “Ah, here’s the one I was talking about,” she said, handing Gina one of the capsules from inside the box. “I’ve got another with some of their classical stuff, but I don’t think it’s here. I must have left it at home. It’s a bit weird, anyhow.”
“Thanks. This’ll be fine.” Gina put the capsule into a pouch in her
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replacing the briefcase, Gina picked up the mugs and carried them over to a table in the lounge, where she settled herself into one of the easy chairs. Sandy followed a few moments later.
“So, how about the romantic side of your life?” Sandy asked as she sat down in the other chair. “Or are writers always too busy to have one?”
“Oh, now and again, when it wants to happen. But nothing. .
“Entangling?”
“Right. I don’t want complications getting mixed up with my work, either. But with me, work and life keep having this tendency to become the same thing.”
Sandy tasted her coffee. “Not bad.” She looked up. “Were you ever married?”
“Once, awhile ago now—for about four years. We lived in California. But it didn’t work.”
“What happened? Did you see yourself heading toward oblivion on Domesticity Street?” Sandy gave Gina a critical look over the top of her mug. “Somehow I can’t picture you taking pies to garden parties or selling Tupperware.”
Gina smiled distantly. “Actually it was more the opposite. Larry was the kind of guy who wanted to go everywhere, do everything. You know, always meeting new people, the life of every party
It was fine as long as I was content to tag along as an accessory in his life. The problem was, it didn’t leave any room for me to have one of my own.”
“You should have introduced him to me,” Sandy said. She made a motion with her free hand to indicate herself. “It’s nice in some ways to work surrounded by scientists and all kinds of other guys who are smart, but there’s an incredible number of nerds among them. You know the kind—they think a hard-on’s some kind of quantum particle.”
Gina had to stifle a scream of laughter. “Vie doesn’t seem like that, though,” she commented.
“He’s an exception. Now him I could go for. Maybe it’s the accent. But like I said, it’s not the thing to do. Anyhow, he got tangled up with somebody when we were at Houston, before the division relocated to D.C., and nowadays he likes to keep his day-times uncomplicated, too.”
“You, er, don’t exactly come across as the epitome of detached, intellectual science,” Gina said.
“Give me a break. I spent a year and a half down a hole in the ice on Ganymede. That’s a lot of time to make up for. Vie said something once about not wanting to get old with a lot of regrets about missing out. I agree with him.”
Gina, watching the way Sandy’s straight, dark brown hair fell about her face as she leaned forward to pick up her cup again, noticed the firmly defined features and the long lines of the jeans-clad legs. Sandy was the kind of girl that men had told her radiated sex appeal without being especially pretty, Gina decided. Intelligent, adventuresome, and uninhibited. Definitely Larry’s type.
Sandy looked up. “Anyhow, scientists are supposed to be curious, aren’t they? Like journalists. Isn’t that what the job is all about?”
“I suppose so,” Gina agreed.
Back in her own cabin, Gina found herself restless and not inclined toward sleep, despite the time she had been awake. Lurking just below the level of consciousness, something that she couldn’t pinpoint was disturbing her, something tugging for attention, distilled from the day’s flood of events and experiences. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth while she grappled with the problem.
It had something to do with VISAR. More specifically, it had something to do with the way VISAR was designed to function. Back in the bedroom, still fully dressed, she propped herself up with a couple of pillows and stared at the picture of a snowy mountain scene from some world or other, on the far wall of the room.