jefflong.yearzero-第17部分

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nded　than；　say；　mathematicians　or　particle　theorists。　Abbot　thought　that　had　to　do　with　their　proximity　to　living　beings；　regardless　of　how　minuscule。　In　one　form　or　another；　they　handled　the　mortal　coil。　It　kept　them　from　spinning　off　into　surreality。
　Abbot　was　the　chief　of　the　National　Academy　of　Sciences。　The　riot　reflected　on　him。　He　had　orchestrated　for　them　a　quiet　taste　of　the　Southwest。　Rancho　Encantado　was　a　resort　north　of　Santa　Fe。　The　Dalai　Lama　had　stayed　there　once。　There　was　a　picture　in　the　lobby　of　him　with　a　cowboy　hat。　For　the　first　two　days；　the　scientists　had　presented　papers；　showed　pictures；　and　ridden　horses。　This　morning　they　had　risen　early　and　eaten　a　pancake…and…eggs　breakfast；　and　boarded　the　bus。　And　driven　straight　into　that　howling　gauntlet　awaiting　them　on　Highway　40。
　There　was　no　questioning　the　mob's　hatred　for　the　scientists。　The　demonstrators　had　let　the　eggs　rot　in　the　sun　for　days。　You　could　smell　the　sulfur　dioxide　on　the　riot　cops　hunkered　in　the　aisles　and　in　the　well　of　the　bus　door。　Their　ninja…turtle　armor　dripped　with　gouts　of　neon　paint　and　spoiled　food；　and　the　scientists　leaned　away　from　them。　The　paint　and　rotten　food　were　mischief；　thought　Abbot。　But　the　blood　was　pure　malice。　It　was　human；　donated　by　the　pint　from　radical　anarchists。　In　these　times　of　AIDS　and　Hep…C；　throwing　blood　was　not　a　statement；　it　was　an　act　of　terrorism。
　The　newspapers　would　treat　it　as　one　more　demonstration　against　the　G。E。s；　or　genetic　engineers。　Token　peaceniks　would　decry　the　random　violence；　but　denounce　the　evil　scientists。　The　sheriff　would　stress　his　restraint；　the　governor　would　extend　apologies。　It　was　all　theatrics。　Abbot　knew　how　these　things　worked。　Someone　very　high　up　had　authorized　putting　some　fear　of　God　into　the　distinguished　members　of　Genome　XXI；　the　twenty…first　symposium　of　the　Human　Genome　Project。
　Abbot　mulled　over　his　enemies。　There　was　a　vicious　Senate　battle　in　progress　over　budget　cuts。　The　sciences　were　being　treated　like　parasites。　In　the　name　of　his　creationist　constituents；　Senator　Jimmy　Rollins　of　Kansas　was　once　again　frothing　at　the　mouth；　a　feeble　mind；　a　cheap　plagiarist。　It　could　have　been　the　European　Union　lobby；　of　course；　still　trying　to　block　genetically　modified　〃frankenfoods〃　from　their　shores。　Or　the　farm　unions；　working　for　leverage。
　〃Stop　fretting；〃　Abbot's　seatmate　said。　Her　name　tag　readElise　Golding/UC。　The　〃UC〃　was　too　humble。　In　fact　the　University　of　California　was　almost　an　empire　unto　itself；　including　even　Los　Alamos。　Fossilized　bubblegum　stuck　to　the　wall　beside　her　plaid　skirt。　She　patted　his　arm。　〃It's　the　times；　Paul。〃
　Her　salt…and…pepper　hair　was　bound　in　a　thick　ponytail。　The　low　sunlight　glinted　off　the　planes　of　her　face。　The　radiance　stripped　her　face　of　its　crow's…feet　and　laugh　lines。　For　a　moment　she　appeared　thirty　years　younger；　that　same　young　woman　he'd　first　met；　ironically；　at　a　wild　stormy　protest　against　the　Vietnam　War。　She　had　been　on　the　faculty　at　Cornell；　he　at　MIT。　Everyone　had　been　full　of　daring　that　day。　And　night。
　〃Those　weren't　just　fundamentalists　and　anti…abortionists；〃　he　growled。　〃You　saw　their　signs。　All　the　Luddites　were　there　in　force。　Greenpeace；　Earth　First；　WAAKE…UP；　the　animal　rights　people；　the　AFLCIO　goons。　It　was　a　lynch　mob。〃
　〃And　you　provoked　it；〃　she　said。
　〃Good　grief；　Elise；　they　just　attacked　a　childrens'　schoolbus。〃
　〃They　attacked　an　idea。〃
　〃Driven　by　demagogues　and　talk　radio　and　tabloid　nonsense。〃
　〃Admit　it；　Paul；〃　she　said　more　quietly。　〃You're　mad　because　your　plan　backfired。〃
　〃What　plan；〃　he　said。
　〃You　used　us。〃　Her　eyes　flashed　like　grey　steel。　She　had　a　low　tolerance　for　falseness　of　any　kind。　Shenanigans；　she　called　it。　It　was　why　he'd　placed　Miranda　under　her　guidance。　Elise　was　an　ethics　lesson　in　motion。　〃You　drew　a　line　in　the　sand。　They　crossed　it。　It's　that　simple。　Politics。　You're　just　as　guilty　as　they　are。　You　wanted　to　make　a　statement；　and　it　bit　you　on　the　ass。　It　got　ugly。　Thank　goodness　no　one　got　hurt。　These　windows　aren't　bulletproof；　you　know。〃
　〃Now　we　have　to　ask　the　rabble's　permission　to　do　science？〃　he　blustered。　〃Someone　has　to　take　a　stand；　Elise。　It's　not　just　gen…tech　they're　after；　you　know。　All　the　sciences　are　under　fire。　I　see　it　on　the　editorial　pages；　in　the　budget　cuts；　in　the　empty　classrooms。　We're　sliding　backwards　into　the　Dark　Ages。　Next　they'll　be　burning　books。　Or　us。〃
　〃You　want　them　to　love　you。〃
　〃Of　course　not；〃　he　snorted。
　She　continued。　〃You　do。　You　want　them　to　feel　the　spark　of　discovery　and　be　awed　and　thank　us。　And　one　day；　Paul；　they　will　again。　Maybe　we'll　give　them　a　new　energy　source。　Or　a　cure　for　the　mon　cold。　Or　a　vaccine　for　this　Mediterranean　thing。　These　things　move　in　cycles。　But　you　have　to　accept　that　for　every　glorious　Apollo　moon　landing　there's　some　Galileo　upsetting　their　apple　cart。　For　every　Salk　or　Curie；　there's　a　Darwin　calling　them　monkeys。　For　every　Carl　Sagan　or　Stephen　Hawking　trying　to　illuminate　the　masses；　there's　a　Mengele　or　Teller　giving　them　nightmares。　We're　not　in　the　hugging　phase　right　now；　that's　all。　And　hosting　a　convention　of　geneticists　in　their　backyard　won't　get　you　there。〃
　〃Backyard？　We're　in　the　middle　of　nowhere。〃
　〃You　know　what　I　mean。　You　arranged　headlines。　You　gave　that20/20　woman　an　interview　last　week。　You　could　have　focused　her　on　the　search　for　this　Mediterranean　virus；　you　could　have　made　us　heroes。　Instead　you　talked　about　evolution。　What　was　all　that　about　mutation　as　God's　plan？　And　why　on　earth　did　you　pick　a　ranch　in　the　desert　instead　of　just　housing　these　people　at　Los　Alamos　where　it's　secure？〃
　Just　yesterday；　Abbot　had　seen　classified　reports　from　the　National　Security　Agency　and　Homeland　Security　remending　an　immediate　three…month　shutdown　of　U。S。　borders。　He　was　on　the　inside　of　that　call。　It　would　be　a　draconian　measure…no　air；　sea　or　land　travel；　no　shipping；　no　business　trips　back　and　forth　to　Paris；　no　spring　breaks　in　Cancun…and　it　would　have　to　be　done　by　Presidential　directive。　Politicians　and　bureaucrats　would　stonewall　it　until　doomsday。　The　economy　would　plunge。　The　President　was　wavering。　But　the　foot…and…mouth　epidemic　and　the　mad　cow　scare　in　Europe　a　few　years　back；　and　more　recently　America's　brush　with　anthrax；　were　turning　out　to　be　handy　lessons　in　rapid　response。　The　President　was　close　to　signing　the　directive。　For　now；　however；　there　no　sense　panicking　the　public。　It　was　agreed　at　the　very　top　levels；　business　as　usual。　Even　Elise　was　out　of　the　loop。
　〃The　Med　outbreak　is　a　million　miles　away　to　most　Americans。　Besides　the　Europeans　are　handling　it。　That's　not　our　story　here。　It's　a　free　country；　Elise。　That's　my　point。　Science　is　still　part　of　the　world。〃
　〃And　to　make　your　point；　you　put　us　at　risk。　We　were　lucky。〃
　She　had　him。　In　a　sense；　they　were　his；　each　of　them；　from　these　biologists　to　the　astronomers　and　robotics　wonks　and　butterfly　chasers　and　all　the　other　scientists　he　represented。　As　the　so…called　Science　Czar；　he　nurtured　them　with　funding　which　he　enchanted　from　Congress；　corporations；　and　true　believers。　He　sheltered　them　with　his　fixers　and　spinmeisters　and　his　Mosaic　influence。　He　shaped　their　research　with　his　master　plans。　He　rewarded　them　for　their　genius。　Even　those　from　other　countries　moved　within　his　orbit；　ambassadors　to　his　empire。　And　yes；　he　did　feel　guilty　about　the　mob。　He　was　their　king；　and　it　was　his　job　to　safeguard　each　and　every　one　of　them。　Elise　was　right。　They　were　lucky。　Those　paintballs　could　have　been　bullets。
　〃I　love　this　hour　of　the　morning；〃　she　suddenly　announced；　and　he　glanced　at　her。　She　was　pretending　to　look　out　the　window　glutinous　with　egg　and　spittle。　The　mob　had　frightened　her。　Now　she　simply　wished　to　get　on　with　the　day。
　Over　the　years；　Abbot　had　refined　his　version　of　why　they　had　not　married　back　in　the　beginning；　and　she　had；　too。　They　talked　about　it　sometimes。　If　only　you'd　said　this　or　done　that；　they　would　say。　The　bottom　line　was　that　they　had　not　married。　They　had　drifted　on　to　other　lives；　found　mates；　made　families；　then　lost　their　mates。　Death　had　taken　her　Victor　just　six　months　ago；　and　tried　to　take　her；　too。　The　surgeons　had　repaired　her　broken　heart；　but　she　was　still　frail。　Impulsively　Abbot　wanted　to　take　her　hand　in　his；　to　hold　it　without　the　excuse　of　fear　or　consolation；　just　to　remind　them　both　of　what　might　have　been。　But　he　did　not。　If　they　were　younger　and　it　mattered；　perhaps。　But　neither　of　them　would　marry　again。　That's　how　it　was。
　The　bus　wound　toward　the　mesa　top。　They　passed　through　Los　Alamos；　and　its　plain　buildings　and　green　park　could　have　been　anywhere　in　1970s　Middle　America。　It　was　a　pany　town。　Their　business　was　simple：　Big　Science。
　The　bus　stopped　at　a　bridge　above　a　sheer　canyon。　Traffic　normally　flowed　into　the　research　plex　beyond。　But　this　morning；　following　the　demonstration　outside　Rancho　Encantado；　heavily　armed　Pro　Force　soldiers　were　ready　and　waiting。　An　officer　with　a　clipboard　mounted　the　bus　and　walked　down　the　aisle　to　where　Abbot　and　Golding　sat。　Golding　knew　right　where　to　sign　the　paperwork。　He　said；　〃Thank　you；　ma'am；〃　and　started　handing　out　security　badges　and　dos