“We cannot be sure, because none of our people with him survived. We believe he created a solvent from some of the chemicals he acquired for his work, because the suits of all four of his guards were partially decomposed. Our suits provide us with both a breathable atmosphere and skeletal support; without them, this planet is almost immediately fatal to us.” Greg touched his suit with his upper right arm. “In the last week we have changed some of the materials in the suits. I am wearing one of the newer versions.” The lower right arm twitched again.
I laughed. “Don’t worry; I have no desire to kill you. If I had wanted you dead, R.C. would have killed you before you made it from the car to the gym. We’ve made a deal, and I’ll honor my part.”
I stood and pushed back the chair. “Right now, though, I’m going to grab a bite to eat and take a shower. Then we’ll start looking for Jim. Can I get you anything?”
“No,” Greg said. “The suit provides for my nutritional needs.”
I headed for the kitchen. As the door into the rest of the gym was shutting and locking, I yelled, “Stay there, and you’ll be fine. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
* * *
Louise Mason entered our lives in the second semester of our junior year of high school, a mid-year transfer whose father’s business had brought her family from North Carolina to St. Pete for a three-year stint. Jim and I were in a lot of the same classes, and Louise was in every one we shared: AP math, AP English, third-year programming, marine biology, and creative writing. She was bit of a geek—barely over five feet tall, rail-thin, glasses, a tendency to laugh too loudly and too easily—but she had a brilliant smile and an always tangled mane of shoulder-length curly brown hair that drew your attention and made you smile every time you saw her bounce into a room. Every smart guy in the school noticed her and, if the hallway chatter was any indicator, wanted her.
Earlier that year, Jim had broken through the dating wall, and he was now going out regularly with a girl named Margie who was also in most of our shared classes. Margie befriended Louise, and I used that friendship as a way to meet and then, with Margie’s nudging, ask Louise to join the three of us for dinner and a movie at the mall. To my surprise, Louise accepted.
In the course of the evening we discovered we had none of the usual things in common. She came from a rich Raleigh family and was determined to go back to North Carolina to college so she could be near them. My mother and I were poor, and I wanted to go to college somewhere else, anywhere else, that I could make a fresh start. Louise hated sports, and basketball and the gym provided the best moments of most of my days. She was an ovo-lacto vegetarian, and I loved red meat and ate it every chance I got.
A dumb comment of Jim’s brought Louise and me to our first piece of common ground. We were sitting on benches outside the theater, people-watching while we waited for the previous film to end. A mother and father were taking turns pushing their young son, a kid who couldn’t have been more than six or seven, along the main walkway of the mall. The boy was crying, but they kept pushing him. Every now and then his father would slap the back of his head and whisper angrily at him.
“Some people shouldn’t have kids,” Margie said.
We all nodded in agreement.
“We shouldn’t allow them to have kids,” Jim said.
“What do you mean?” Louise asked.
“Just what I said,” Jim answered. “We should not allow people who aren’t competent to have kids to breed. We should sterilize them.”
Louise looked at him and shook her head. “Who’s going to decide who’s competent to have kids and who’s not?” she said.
“I have to agree with Louise,” I said. “I’m with you, Jim, in not wanting people like that to have kids, but I can only wish those people would make that choice. I sure don’t want somebody else having that much control over anybody.”