Eschaton 1 – The Other End of Time

CHAPTER THREE

Dan

When Dannerman entered his cousin's office they didn't kiss. Nor did they shake hands, and she didn't even look up at him. Her attention was on her desk screen; displaying the resume he had given Mr. Dixler to send over. "Says here you've got a Ph.D.-but it's in English literature, for Christ's sake? What the hell does Dixler think we're going to do with an English major here? Do you know anything at all about astronomy?"

"Not a thing," he said cheerfully, studying her: blue eyes, rusty brown hair, yes, that was the cousin he remembered, though now physically well matured. She was wearing a white lab coat, but it hung open. Under it was a one-piece skorts outfit, thermally dilated to adjust to room temperatures. She kept her office warm, so a lot of Pat Adcock showed through the mesh. At thirty-something she was almost as good-looking as pretty little Patty D. Bly had been when they were children; two marriages and a career had just made her taller and even more sure of herself. "I just happen to need a job pretty badly," he added.

She finally looked up to regard him thoughtfully, then smiled. "Anyway, hello. It's been a long time, Dan-Dan."

"It's just Dan now that I've grown up, Cousin Pat."

"And it's just Doctor Adcock. if you're going to work here," she reminded him, a touch of steel peeking through the velvet. "I don't know about hiring you, though, Dan. It says here you got your doctorate at Harvard and your dissertation was called 'Between Two Worlds: Freud and Marx in the Plays of Elmer Rice.' Who the hell was he?"

"Early-twentieth-century American playwright. Very seminal for Broadway theater. Some people called him the American Pirandello."

"Huh." She studied his face. "Are you still stagestruck?"

"Not really. Oh, there's a little theater group in Brooklyn I help out now and then-"

"Christ."

"It wouldn't interfere with my work," he promised.

She gave him an unconvinced look, but changed the subject. "So Dixler wants me to give you a job here. I was surprised when he called; I thought you weren't speaking to him."

Dannerman shifted uncomfortably. "You mean about Uncle C Cubby's estate. Well, I wasn't, but I thought the least he could do was put in a word for me with you."

She was gazing at the screen again. "What happened to the job you had with, it says here, Victor Carpezzio and Sons, Importers of Foods and Fragrances?"

"Personal problems. I didn't get along with the Carpezzios."

"And you've had-" She paused to count up. "Jesus, Dan, you've had four other jobs in the past few years. Are you going to quit here too because you don't like somebody?" He didn't answer that. "And you've been dicking around with little theater groups all over the place, not just in Brooklyn. I thought you were the kind of guy who went for the macho kind of thing."

"There's enough macho in the world already, Pat."

"Hum," she said again. Then, "All right, our mutual uncle gave a lot of money to found this observatory, that's a fact. But it doesn't mean we have to support the whole damn family."

"Of course not."

"If we decided to take a chance and we did give you a job for Uncle Cubby's sake, don't expect it would be anything big. You'd be getting minimum wage, daily COLA, no fringe benefits. This is a scientific establishment. We're all highly trained people. You just don't have the skills for anything better than scutwork."

"I understand, Dr. Adcock."

That made her laugh. "Oh, hell, Dan, I guess Pat's good enough. Considering we've known each other since we were in diapers. You don't bear any grudges, do you? About the money, I mean?" He shook his head. "I mean, you got as much as I did under Uncle Cubby's will."

"Not exactly."

"Well, you would have if you'd been around when the will was probated. Then the whole thing wouldn't've been eaten up by inflation by the time you collected it and you wouldn't be looking for a scutwork job now, would you? What were you doing in Europe anyway?"

"I guess you'd call it postdoctoral research," he said, coming reasonably close to an honest answer. The statement was technically true, at least; he really had had his doctorate by then and what he had been doing in Europe surely was research of a kind.

"And maybe there was a girl?"

"You could say a woman was involved," he admitted, again skirting the truth-Use was indeed female, and so was the colonel. "I guess I made a mistake, not keeping in touch."

"I guess you did. All right, I don't see why we shouldn't do old Dixler a favor-and you too, of course. We'll find you something to do. Go down to Security and get your badge and passes from Mick Jarvas. You can start tomorrow-but remember, you get no medical benefits, no tenure. You'll be a temp, hired on a week-to-week basis, and how long you stay depends on you. Or, actually, it will depend on me, because I'm the director here. Is that going to give you a problem?"

"No problem."

"It better not be a problem. I don't mix family loyalty and science. We've got a lot to do here right now, trying to get Star-lab back on line and all. I don't want you thinking that the fact that we played together when we were babies is going to get you any special privileges."

Dannerman grinned, thinking about the kinds of games they'd played. "You're the boss, Pat," he said. But of course she'd been the boss then, too.

Is soon as he was out of the building he paused before the window of a betting parlor to lift his commset to his lips and make his call. He didn't give a name. He didn't have to. All he said was, "Mission accomplished. I got the job."

"That's nice," the voice on the other end said chattily. "Congratulations. You've still got one thing to do with the other guys, though."

"I know. I'll phone it in when I get home." "Make sure you do, Danno. Talk to you later." On the subway ride home Dannerman pretended to watch the news on his communicator-the hot new story was that the President's press secretary had been kidnapped-but he wasn't paying it much attention. He was content with the day's work. To be sure, he didn't know exactly why he was going to work for his cousin, but he was reasonably sure he would be told in time. What he had to take care of with the Carpezzios wouldn't take long. And of course the eschaton, that ultimate transcendence, had never yet even crossed his mind.