“Good night—Joan Eunice.” He left quickly.
(Joan you bitch, you’re pushing him too hard.) (I am not!) (The hell you aren’t. For a second I thought you were going to drag him right into bed.) (Ridiculous!) (And you’re pushing yourself too hard, too.) (Eunice, quit crabbing. I could have backed out up to the last split second. I found that I did not mind it. After all, there are many cultures in which men kiss men, as a gesture of friendship.)
(In case you haven’t noticed, you are no longer a man—you’re a mixed-up chick.) (I’ve noticed. Look, snoopy, it was a necessary symbol. I had to show Jake that he could touch me, even kiss me good-night . . . and not have it be tragic. And it wasn’t. Reminded me of my father kissing me good-night . . . which he did until I was a big boy.)
(Well . . . perhaps Jake is going to settle for being fatherly. But don’t count on it, Joan. Let mc warn you, Sis— Jake can kiss much better than that. He can kiss so well that your insides melt down, starting at your belly button and spreading in all directions.) (A possibility. A remote one. Now will you shut up, and let us sleep? I really am tired.) (Love me. Boss?) (I’ve never stopped loving you dear—and never will.) (Me, too——and wish I could kiss you good-night. Sleep, Boss—everything’s going to he all right.)
Before she could get to sleep, Winifred came in, in robe and slippers. “Miss Joan?” she said softly.
“Yes, dear? Put the floor lights on.”
“Mr. Salomon said that you had gone to bed—”
“And you look as if you had. Did he wake you?”
“Oh, no. I was chatting with Mrs. Sloan; she’s on watch. But Dr. Garcia left word that your bed was to be all the way down—and I see that it isn’t. How do I put it down?”
“I do it myself, right from the bed—down, like that—or back up, like that. I wasn’t asleep yet. It’s all right, I’ll put it all the way down before you leave. . . and you can tell Doctor that I was a good girl.”
“Fine! You can have this capsule if you want it. You don’t have to take it, Mrs. Sloan says that Doctor says.”
“I’ll take it; I want to go right to sleep. If you’ll hand me the water there . . . and kiss me good-night. If you won’t, I’ll sulk and ring for Mrs. Sloan and ask her to kiss me good-night.”
The little nurse grinned. “I’ll force myself.”
Winifred left about sixty seconds later. (Well, Eunice? How did that one stack up?) (Quite well, Butch. Say eighty percent as well as Jake can do.) (You’re teasing.) (You’ll find out. Winnie is sweet—but Jake has had years more practice. I’m not chucking asparagus at Winnie. I thought you were going to drag her right in with us.) (With Mrs. Sloan outside and watching our heart rate? What do you think I am? A fool?) (Yes.) (Oh, go to sleep!)
12
Peace Negotiations, both in Paris and in Montevideo, continued as before. Fighting continued on a token basis, and the dead did not complain. Harvard’s new president was dismissed by the student government, which then adjourned without appointing a successor. The Secretary of H.E.W. announced a plan to increase the water content of San Francisco Bay to 37%; the Rivers & Harbors Commission denied that H.E.W. had jurisdiction. In Alma Ata a Morale Corps sergeant gave birth to a healthy two-headed boy by Caesarean section; it was watched worldwide and on Luna, via satellite, to a specially arranged chorus of the Thoughts of Chairman Lu. In Washington the I.R.S., acting under Budget Executive Order (Emergency) of ‘87, announced an additional temporary surtax of 7%. In Miami Miss Universe (Miss Ghana—42-22-38), speaking through her press secretary & interpreter, revealed that she intended to be the first starship commander and had been studying neoEinsteinian ballistics under hypnosis for two years. The General Secretary of the People’s Fraternal Society of Cosmonauts, Astronauts, & Space Engineers (A.F.L.C.I.O.) wondered publicly as to Miss Universe’s ability to do simple arithmetic with her shoes on. Madam President of the Federated Women’s Clubs of the World stated that the Honorable Secretary was a counterrevolutionary rat-fink and a typical example of male arrogance. In Los Angeles smog deaths were down 3% under emergency pollution abatement measures and a brisk west wind.