EMERGENCE (24 page)

Smiled to myself: Adam unaware, of course, but had just announced intention of adopting crusty old warrior, regardless how relations might go with Rollo. Of course, had little real say in matter—such decisions belong to cat alone.

Rollo reappeared about an hour later, announced: "Is this better?" And received no answer because both Adam and I staring open-mouthed.

Had accomplished nothing less than transfiguration: Was clean, smooth-shaven, hair cut roughly but adequately; wearing clean, quietly stylish, casual clothes. Smelled good, too: aftershave (Coty's musk, I think).

Appearance now matched demeanor: Rollo poised, elegant; tall, slim, quietly handsome; perhaps mid-40s; touch of gray at temples; high forehead, cheekbones; firm, dimpled chin; astonishingly blue eyes; lots of laugh lines—cut singularly impressive figure.

Told him so. Looked pleased. Then suggested we adjourn to kitchen; intended to whip up festive dinner. Followed, bringing Terry's stand.

Adam fed Tora-chan, who ate until sides bulged. Rollo produced old litter pan from broom closet, filled, offered to cat. Tora-chan glared, but took advantage. Adam fascinated by performance: Had never known cats bury own waste. Also bury anything too spoiled to eat, garbage in general, Rollo added by way of information.

Then Tora-chan noticed Terry. Jumped up on counter next to stand; sat, stared. Twin clicked bill several times; fluffed, settled feathers; stared back without rancor. Tora-chan considered pros, cons; decided had better things to do. Returned to Adam's lap. Then pooled energies with bird, glaring as Rollo hustled around kitchen, making dinner, small-talking nonstop (over long months' isolation, had built up substantial conversational pressures).

Couldn't understand Terry's attitude; Rollo so
nice
—apart from not being cat person, of course. And even there, had—well—not totally unreasonable justification for conduct. Perhaps brother's opinion based on initial appearance, smell; or spur-of-moment approval of cat—offended by Rollo's treatment of new friend at door.

But, though never known him wrong about stranger, inclined to be less conservative myself now that meeting Adam turned out well; now I had partner, reliable backup if crisis developed.

Besides,
wanted
meeting Rollo to turn out well; wanted for friend. Embodied most good qualities friend should have: intelligent, understanding, good-humored—funny (for five dreadful minutes he and Adam engaged in pun-ishing contest: Adam won, but issue in doubt right up to final groan).

Plus, as predinner conversation turned into dinner conversation, developed that Rollo had been
every
where, done
every
thing: Peace Corps physician for years in Africa, India, South America. Spent year traveling as resident physician with Ringling Brothers Circus. Vacations included photo expeditions through Malaysia, Australia, Alaska. Had driven race cars in Europe (Adam's eyes bugged; already assembling list of questions), semis during summers while in school; flown sailplanes in Lee Wave over Minden, Nevada; snorkled Caribbean, South Pacific; climbed K2 in Himalayas. Wrote textbooks, had own TV show on local station, was two-term state house representative. Finally got into private practice, teaching, then administration. Both Daddy, Teacher had guest-taught at his school at one time or another.

This led to discussion of Teacher's work,
H. post hominem
theory, physical characteristics of new breed. Rollo listened intently to précis of events leading to species' discovery. Asked occasional questions. Finally shook head in amazement: "
Damn,
I wish I could have participated in that study. McDivott invited me to take part years ago, but I was just heading off to Save the World in the Peace Corps. Wonderful. . . ."

Then we got into my, Adam's survival, meeting; trip to this point, zoo-animal problem; clues unearthed thus far, purpose, hoped-for ultimate destination. Rollo impressed: Offered long, low whistle at narrative's conclusion. Opined were braver than he, out exploring by ourselves. His reaction to tragedy was dig hole, climb in, pull in after him: Withdrew, feeling sorry for self, grieving over loss of wife.

Rollo met her there at school. Twenty years his junior, she ". . . kept me young and interested—and our sudden marriage caused all kinds of entertainingly wicked gossip for first few months. When nothing materialized, it all petered out on a disappointed note.

"We never did have any children—much less that nine-pound preemie everyone expected. It wasn't a question of age; 25 would have been a fine age for Sally to begin bearing children; and, by microscopic examination, it looked as if I'd be fertile until they hammered down the headstone. We were waiting for me to retire so we both could be full-time parents. I had a bunch of investments that would have matured in another two years. We did take the precaution of freezing a quart or so of my semen, just in case my prognostications proved overly optimistic. . . .

"Which brings us to our next topic . . ."

Leaned back, sighed, patted his tummy, still amazingly flat despite quantity put away. "Golly, that was good. I wonder what I did right." (Adam stared vacantly at ceiling; Rollo hadn't noticed him sniffing pots during preparation.)

". . . which is, of course, Candy." Rollo smiled fondly at me. Smiled back; such a nice man. Turning then to Adam, Rollo sat up straight, folded hands on edge of table, assumed serious mien.

"Sir," he began, "it appears that you are in sole possession of something we both want. In the absence of law, it becomes necessary to settle the matter between us personally. The question is: Shall we resolve it like the gentlemen we purport to be, or must we fall back on the time-honored method?"

Adam's expression the very picture of noncomprehension. Rollo regarded him soberly. "In other words, will you share Candy with me or must we fight over her?"

Adam's eyes snapped open. Understood now—and
so did I
. . . !

Mouth open, retort quivering on tip of tongue; but Adam beat me to it. Did good job, too; covered every point would have raised myself, plus angles hadn't thought of (and language more diplomatic than I would have employed): "Candy is
not
my property. She is
no
one's property. I doubt if she ever will
be
anyone's property. I have no authority over her, nor is my permission required for any arrangement anyone might or might not reach with her. If you want to discuss sharing anything with her, you will have to talk to
her.
"

Rollo pursed lips thoughtfully. Then nodded approvingly. "Fair enough, sir. And spoken like a gentleman. Thank you."

Turned to me. "I'm sorry; I misapprehended the relationship between you. I think I have it now.

"All right; are
you
willing to share
Adam
with me, or must
we
fight over him?"

If Adam startled before, completely dumbfounded now. Mouth flapped soundlessly. And surely doing no better myself.

Situation static for long moments. Rollo stared, aspect implacably serious, waiting for reply. Then eyes twinkled. Seconds later snickered, went directly thence to belly-laughing. Tears running down cheeks before managed to stop.

Personally saw nothing funny, but held counsel, pending explanation.

"Oh, I
am
sorry," he puffed at length. "I wish I had a picture of your faces just then.

"Okay. . . ." Rollo sobered finally; mood darkened, became almost somber. "I gave you both a shock. I did it deliberately to make sure that I had your undivided attention. I was teasing, of course; sex is the Oldest Funny Subject, and it's easy to get sidetracked. Besides, it sometimes helps to joke when the issue is serious. And this is
very
serious.

"You two are too young to understand just
how
serious sex can be in an adult world. But believe me when I tell you: No subject lies closer to the raw, untamed primitive in every man. Men have killed, and will kill again, over sex. Sex is
serious business:
That's a boiler-plate given; an unalterable fact of life. Don't forget it. Ever.

"Now, I don't know whether you two have become sexually involved yet or not—frankly, I don't care. That's history; it's none of my business. What
is
my business is the fact that I am a healthy adult male. I'm in the prime of life. I was married for five wonderful years to an equally healthy adult woman, whose sex drive was as well-developed as mine. We enjoyed an enthusiastic, extremely active, and marvelously fulfilling sex life. . . ."

Paused, eyed me bleakly. "I miss her—and
it
—very much."

Adam later reported was tossup whether my eyes or mouth open wider.

Rollo nodded sympathetically; continued gently: "Yes, that's precisely what I'm getting at. And yes, you
are
younger than anyone with whom I've contemplated sexual relations. But not by much.

"I got involved with a girl almost your age during the time I was stationed in Ujjain. She was a street child: no parents, no means of support, starving, regularly raped. I took her in to protect her—that's what I told myself. And for a good two months that's just what I did. Then one night she turned up in my bed and matters continued predictably from there. She claimed she was 14 when we first became intimate—I have my doubts. 'Love' was not involved on either side; we were merely very fond of each other and had complementary needs: Hers were for food, shelter, and protection; mine were for companionship, someone to take care of, and a sexual outlet.

"When I was transferred, two years later, I left her with friends, a good family, with a trust fund to take care of her—in India, back then, it didn't take much money to accomplish such things. Thereafter she married well and, by the time of the attack, had three children. I've never experienced any guilt at having 'taken advantage of a child'; and if she harbored any resentment, she never gave any indication of it—then or since, and we corresponded regularly.

"In fact, she brought the subject up herself once in a letter shortly after the birth of her first son—women's lib hadn't gotten very far in India by then; sons were
important.
She observed that she had me to thank for her happiness: her husband, her son—her very life. It bothered her that she would never be able to repay the debt she felt she owed me; it disturbed her even more that she could never make me understand the magnitude of that debt.

"I mention her as an example of the variability of the concept of right and wrong, depending on place and time. That was
there
and
then:
It was socially acceptable.

"Now, before the attack—
here
and
recently—
I'd have been leading the tar-and-feather brigade myself if I got wind of someone my age suggesting sex with someone your age: It would have been wrong within the social structure that existed.

"However, this is
here
and
now.
That social structure no longer exists—and with it have disappeared the laws and mores of which it consisted. Right and wrong no longer have meaning except where specific individuals meet and apply them to issues affecting them both. All that remains is the principle of enlightened self-interest, when dealing with reasonable people, and superior-versus-inferior force otherwise.

"One of the key elements of enlightened self-interest is the principle of supply and demand. Anyone possessing a commodity for which there is a demand is in a position to set her own price.

"But price is a very delicate question, and requires knowledge of all the factors potentially bearing upon the transaction. One of the more important of those factors is the presence or absence of competition, and the importance of your offering to the marketplace. If your commodity isn't particularly critical and there's plenty of other outlets, setting your price too high merely means no demand. However, where you have a monopoly, you can set any price you like; and if it's a really vital commodity, your customers will manage to scrape up the price, somehow.

"Or . . ."—Rollo fixed me with gimlet eye—" . . . if they perceive that you're taking unfair advantage of your position, they may simply take it from you. By force.

"I've started out discussing abstracts," he continued quietly; "but you know as well as I do that we're talking about two specifics: you and sex. Like it or not, to every male over the age of ten you represent
supply—
a
commodity
.
It's not fair, I'll grant you, but it
is
a
fact:
Through no fault of your own, you are in the position of holding the key to satisfying a need—an extremely
urgent
need. Unless you administer that commodity in a manner perceived by your market as fair and reasonable, you're going to find yourself in frequent trouble, at best—at worst, and much more likely, you're going to find out what it's like to have control over your commodity taken from you. Yes, by force."

Rollo noticed me slowly edging chair back from table. Possessed no inkling of real capabilities, intentions, should events continue in direction indicated; probably thought was preparing to bolt. But immediately sought to quiet fears.

"Please don't get the idea that
I
would use force," he stated emphatically. "I wouldn't—
ever
. Sex with Sally was such a joy, so much just plain fun for
both
of us—I got at least as much pleasure from watching her enjoyment as from my own physical sensations—that I'd rather give it up entirely than have an unwilling partner, or even a grudging one."

Paused, then, eyes closed. Expression unreadable, but impression of an empty space somehow materialized next to him. Briefly Rollo looked terribly alone.

Moment passed. Opened eyes; shook himself all over.
"But,"
he continued resolutely, "I am certainly in the minority in that regard. Hell, I'm probably unique." Smiled wanly.