“If they do, don’t forget to give them our number,” Clifford said. “I might apply for a job.”
“Pig.”
“A job’s only part of the problem,” Aub said. “At least you’ve got a place. I’m not even sure where I’m going next yet.”
Sarah swung the chair round to face Aub. She looked surprised.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’ve got the spare room for as long as you want it. As far as we’re concerned, this is just as much your place now. I thought that was obvious.”
Aub smiled with a rare show of awkwardness. “Well, if that’s okay . . .”
“Sure,” Clifford confirmed. “Feel at home for as long as you want. It hadn’t occurred to me to think anything else.”
“Man, that’s just great.” Aub relaxed visibly, but he still seemed vaguely unhappy about something. “But hey, you know . . . I couldn’t take you up on that without paying in my share, especially now that you’ve got problems too. . . .”
Clifford held up a hand. “It’s okay, Aub. What you’re really saying is you need a job—then there’d be no problem. Right?”
“Well . . . guess so.”
“Maybe we can fix that. There’s this place just outside of town that happens to have some vacancies right now. It’s long hours and . . .”
“Brad,” Sarah broke in. “You’re not serious about that place, are you? I mean . . .” She looked from Clifford to Aub, then back again. “You’re good scientists, both of you. You couldn’t just forget about everything. That wouldn’t be right, and besides, you’d never stick it out for more than a week.”
“It’d only be for a while,” Clifford insisted. “Just till we’ve had a chance to look around. Maybe we’ll move away from here if something better shows up somewhere else. Maybe we’ll even quit the country.”
Sarah shook her head. Though she had previously encouraged Brad to take a temporary job to tide them over, she now realized that was the means to no end. “I think you’d do better starting the way you mean to go on,” she declared. “Even if doing so takes a little while longer. Surely with your knowledge and academic record you can find something suitable without too much trouble.”
Clifford sighed and scratched the back of his neck, as if deliberating how to phrase a delicate point without giving offense. “Look, dearest heart,” he said. “You’re a great gal and all that, but sometimes you have this tendency to forget things, you know. Aub and I are both what you might call persona non grata. As far as scientific appointments go from now on, we have had it; we’ve been blacklisted . . . out . . . kaput . . . finished. Remember?”
“Of government-controlled positions, yes,” she persisted. “But the government doesn’t own the whole of science, or the whole of the country, for that matter . . . yet. Try somewhere outside their sphere of influence.”
“Like . . . ?”
“Well—what’s wrong with ISF? I’m not an expert on these things, but they are involved in lots of the kind of work you’re interested in, aren’t they? How about them?”
“ISF!” Aub laughed out loud. “Excuse me—I don’t mean to be rude. But do you have any idea how many scientists—top scientists—are waiting for a chance to get in with that outfit? It was the first place everybody scrambled for when things started tightening up. There’s a waiting list years long and they’re very selective. Guys with strings of letters a mile long are queuing up to get in, right, Brad?”
“It’s like a free-handout day at Fort Knox,” Clifford said.
“But you’re already well in with ISF,” Sarah pointed out. “Couldn’t you try talking to that Professor Zimmermann? He was obviously more than impressed by the work that you did. Surely it’s worth a try. Even if you get nowhere, you’d be no worse off than if you hadn’t tried it.”
“Zimmermann!”
Aub looked at Clifford. Each seemed to ask the other with his eyes why they hadn’t thought of it before. Then Clifford sank back and began rubbing his chin.
“I’m not so sure,” he finally said. “Zimmermann has to be involved in all the business that’s been going on at ACRE and everywhere else. His buddies down here will have fixed it. I don’t think we’d have a snowball in hell’s chance. What d’you reckon?”