The Year's Best SF 08 # 1990

by Gardner Dozois (ed)

  Only when she asked why the station was sited here of all places was there a moment of tension. All eyes turned to Snider, as though relying on him to provide the perfect reply. Elsa had already noticed how everyone deferred to him, as to the abbot of one of the monasteries she had visited in Nepal, and he seemed to relish his rôle.

  In fact, though, it was Greta, his wife—and as had become clear, his co-researcher—who leaned forward.

  “My dear, you’ve seen the people of this region. Don’t you think they need help from outside? They’re constantly sick! They’re existing on the edge of starvation! As for their infant mortality—! That’s why, when Bernard won his prize, we decided that setting up this foundation was the best use we could make of the money.”

  “Prize?” Elsa repeated, reluctant but compelled to admit her ignorance. For a while the name of Bernard Snider had been ringing faint bells in memory, but she had been unable to pin it down.

  Bernard smiled and shrugged. “For my sins,” he said, “they gave me a Nobel.”

  “Really! When was that?”

  “Six years ago.”

  “Ah, no wonder I hadn’t heard about it. Around then I was in Bhutan and Nepal. Out of touch for months on end.”

  “How interesting! You must be quite a globetrotter. I’m sure we’d love to hear about your travels. When you feel strong enough.”

  And everyone relaxed and started chatting anew.

  Thinking back afterward, though, Elsa couldn’t help feeling that she must unwittingly have touched a raw nerve.

  * * *

  Within three more days she was sufficiently recovered to tour the estate—or at any rate that part of it in easy reach. The whole was indeed comparable to one of the old haciendas, far too large to cover in a single day on foot, or even on horseback. It could just about be accomplished by jeep, but a complete inspection called for a helicopter, and one was in fact parked along with a couple of jeeps in a hangar beside the airstrip, a hundred metres from the house. She didn’t recognise the make, but thought it might be an Embraer.

  Felipe appointed himself her guide, not, Elsa thought, from any ulterior motive; he appeared to be (she caught at the old-fashioned term, for it was perfectly appropriate) courting the American girl Patti, who was shy but—judging by various remarks Elsa had overheard—regarded as brilliant. In fact, they all seemed to be brilliant. But was that to be wondered at, if they’d been invited to work for a Nobel laureate?

  Accompanied by one of the dogs that she had heard barking on her arrival, which were not permitted inside the house, Felipe began by taking her around the main site, all except for a long windowless building with a satellite dish on the roof, aligned on a target beyond the cloud-shredding sky. That was Bernard’s laboratory, where save for the staff no one was allowed to enter. But he showed off their windmill-driven generators, the other windmills that pumped their water, the solar-cooled (that was a paradox!) store where they kept their food. Almost all was raised or grown on site. They did not, though, do everything themselves; a score or so of male labourers undertook the routine drudgery, including supervision of the animals. Elsa made a mental note to inquire about them. They seemed far too friendly—indeed too cheerful, despite the lack of women—to have been recruited at Los Tramos.

  Or had they, and was that one of the reasons why the townsfolk were so resentful? Did they feel they had been cheated of the best-paid work available?

  Next, in wire-fenced fields that began beyond the airstrip, she admired cattle far larger than the scrawny beasts at Los Tramos, especially a group of six young bulls still wearing their horns as though being readied for a corrida, though as Felipe explained they were actually being tested for resistance to tick-borne disease. In addition, she saw fat pigs, fleecy sheep, thriving chickens, and plots of vegetables some of which she didn’t recognise, identified by Felipe as possible new food crops for the future, or new sources of fuel and even building materials. There was a plantation, visible in the distance from a rise, where stood more trees than she had seen in months, thousands of them of a dozen different species.

  “If this works out,” Felipe said seriously, “we may yet be able to restore the lost forests. Certainly we can hope to cook the food of India again. While you were there, you must have seen how short they are of firewood.”

  Overwhelmed, Elsa clasped her hands. She burst out, “But why haven’t I heard about these marvels—? Ah, of course. They’re not the kind of thing that makes news in the places where I’ve spent the past ten years.”

  “We don’t want to make news anywhere,” Felipe said. “Not yet. As far as Bernard is concerned, this is only the start. He doesn’t want to be constantly interrupted by reporters. Above all, he’s worried in case ambitious fools get wind of what he’s doing, try to imitate it, and make a mess. Our work is too important to be spoiled that way.”

  “But some people know about it,” Elsa countered as they turned to head back toward the main house.

  “How do you mean?”

  “You have visitors. Quite often.”

  “Oh, yes. There was a plane the night you arrived. I’d forgotten. Yes, we have visitors. But those are friends of Bernard—some, scientific colleagues; others, people who believe in him enough to have invested money. One can scarcely turn them away. Even so…” He sighed, shading his eyes as he glanced around. “Well, sometimes they can be a nuisance. Life here is pretty dull most of the time. Oh, our work is exciting, I grant you—perhaps among the most exciting anyone is undertaking anywhere—but it can get monotonous, and one would welcome a break. As a matter of fact, there’s a dance in town tonight, and I meant to ask whether you’d like to come with me and Patti. The music’s usually quite lively, if the people aren’t.”

  “Why not?” Elsa said, tempted by the idea of returning to sneer at Diego and the alcalde, if only for the sake of reinforcing Juan’s respect for independent women.

  Felipe spread his hands. “We have another visitor. Someone important. We have to stick around. Of course, if you really fancy going to the dance, I could ask one of the workers to take you. Not that he’d be much company. And you’d have to be careful to avoid giving him any wrong ideas on the way home. You’d have to walk back, you see. We don’t let the workers use the jeeps for an outing on their own, in case they get too drunk to drive.”

  “I was going to ask you about them,” Elsa said, and added apologetically, “Sorry, I must stop for a rest.” They were again passing the field that held the six young bulls; she leaned back against one of its fence posts. The dog lay down at her side. She had learned that his name was Panza, after Don Quixote’s squire. He seemed to have taken a fancy to her—or perhaps he was just being properly cautious about a stranger. The bulls eyed him and the humans suspiciously, but after a while paid more attention to each other, circling warily and snorting in a show of braggadocio.

  “What did you say you were going to ask about?” Felipe prompted.

  “These people of yours: why are they—?”

  “Not my people!” he snapped. “Do you take me for one of these pampa-bred peasants?”

  At some stage, without realising, Elsa had slipped from Spanish back to English because Felipe spoke it so well. Now he had stumbled over an idiom. She could see why.

  “I’m sorry!” she cried. “That’s not what I meant! I wanted to ask why some of the local people are willing to work here, when the others in town—”

  He was shaking his head, his expression grim. “Oh, our workers aren’t local. The townsfolk—well, you met them. Ignorant, backward, superstitious, afraid of any sort of change … They can’t tell the difference between science and witchcraft. Last time I was in Los Tramos when a bus came by, I saw an old woman crossing herself as though it were some kind of devil.”

  “I saw that!” Elsa exclaimed.

  “So what do I have to explain? We recruited our labour force among people stranded in big towns, who wanted nothing more than to get back to work they un
derstood: dealing with crops and sheep and cattle. Ask any of them—that’s what they’ll say. In my view, Bernard did them a favour, quite apart from the generous pay.”

  Elsa hesitated before framing her next question. She had it in mind to ask what Felipe felt about Bernard as a person; she herself had come so little into contact with him, save at mealtimes or in the evenings when the staff gathered to watch the latest of what seemed to be an unending series of imported videotapes, that she had formed at best a numinous impression: half research director, half—rather than abbot as she had originally felt—guru.

  But before she found the right words Panza was on his feet, barking madly, and Felipe had caught her arm, shouting, “Look out!”

  And she was being dragged away from the fence. From behind came a crashing sound. She almost fell.

  “It’s okay,” Felipe said, steadying her. “The fence held. But when I saw those two coming straight for us—!”

  What?

  Shakily she turned. The post she had been leaning on was canted at an angle. Two of the young bulls, pawing the ground and slobbering, were confronting one another with lowered heads. One had slashed the other’s hide and left a stripe of blood.

  “There’s going to be trouble here,” Felipe muttered. “I’d better warn Bernard. I said he ought to have them polled, but he so much wants to see the outcome before—” He broke off, as though afraid of saying too much.

  He had lapsed back into Spanish. In the same tongue Elsa demanded, “Why do they still have their horns? I thought it was routine to take them off nowadays.”

  Felipe was shivering. It wasn’t that cold today. In fact, a hint of spring warmth informed the air. At length he said, this time in English, “Bernard thinks it might disturb the hormone balance. And who am I to contradict? Come on, we should be getting back for supper.”

  * * *

  That evening, for the first time Elsa felt excluded from the society of her companions. She was of course resigned to not understanding when they spoke of their scientific work, but she had already taken to making herself useful, be it only to help with cooking and cleaning. Tonight, however, it was as though she had in some ill-defined way become a problem, even a nuisance. Even Greta Snider, who was normally the most relaxed of all, exuded tension. The visitor must indeed be someone important.

  She had expected him to arrive early and share the meal. When she dared to inquire why he was not here yet, she was met with prevarication—very busy, able only to drop in for an hour or two on his way somewhere else.… Fudge! Something was happening that she wasn’t supposed to know about.

  Despite Mina’s assurance on the evening of her arrival, there were secrets here. And, judging by everybody’s acute nervousness, if the visitor discovered there was a stranger about.…

  Her guesses were amply confirmed when, as soon as they had finished, Mina refused her offer to help clear away, and her husband chimed in to support her.

  “Mina’s right, Elsa. You’ve had a tiring day—it was, after all, the first time you’ve walked so far since you quit your sickbed. I prescribe an early night.”

  “So do I,” Bernard boomed. “Mina will bring you your chocolate as usual, won’t you, Mina?”

  “I’m quite capable of fixing it myself—”

  “Won’t hear of it! You need to take things easy for at least another couple of days. That was a bad bout of fever you went through in spite of Lawrence’s vaunted vaccine. Reminds me: you said you wanted a blood sample, didn’t you, Lawrence?”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind, Elsa,” Lawrence muttered. “The stuff I gave you should have aborted the attack almost at once. It might be a question of your blood group. I’d like to check that out tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” Elsa said, pushing back her chair and tossing her napkin on the table. “Okay, good night.”

  Trying to conceal the fact that she suddenly did not believe a word of what she was being told.

  * * *

  Alone in her room, exploring the wavebands of a radio they had brought to relieve the monotony while she was laid up, and finding nothing but pop music and propaganda, she heard the drone of an approaching aircraft. It was no use looking out the window; she was on the wrong side of the house.

  Snider …

  She kept on feeling that she ought to remember this man and his Nobel prize. Had someone mentioned it, one of the hundreds of chance-met Europeans and Americans she had encountered on her wanderings? Or had she read about him in one of the tattered English-language papers that she and other travellers fell on greedily, no matter how out of date, on trains, in bars, in shabby hotels? Six years ago …

  As the plane was circling to land, Mina tapped at the door and delivered her mug of chocolate. Accepting it wordlessly, Elsa waited to see whether the other woman would say anything. So reproachful was her gaze, she did, after a long and pregnant pause.

  “I’m sorry we have to—uh—shut you away,” she muttered. “But … Well, frankly, you might recognise our visitor. He wouldn’t like that.”

  “He’s here unofficially?”

  “Very.”

  “Hmm!” Elsa cradled the hot mug between her hands. “Let me guess. It isn’t cheap to run this place, and a Nobel prize wasn’t nearly enough to pay for everything. Is he someone responsible for other people’s money, who’s investing it in what most of them would regard as a blue-sky venture?”

  Mina looked briefly alarmed, then forced a weak smile. “Something like that.”

  “I see. Well, don’t worry. Now I know I’m a nuisance I’ll stop bothering you. I don’t suppose I can hitch a plane ride, given what you just told me, so I’d better take the bus to Cachonga as I originally planned. When’s the next one?”

  “There’s no need—”

  “No, I’ve outstayed my welcome. You’ve all been very kind, but you have work to do, and since I can’t contribute, I’m bound to be in the way. And in spite of what Lawrence thinks, I really am quite fit again.”

  “Well…” Mina bit her lip. “If he agrees, after he’s given you that blood test tomorrow … I’m sorry. We shall miss you. You’ve been a very different kind of visitor from most who come to call.”

  The sound of the plane was deafening as it taxied from the airstrip toward the house. Elsa had to raise her voice.

  “You mean I walked here instead of flying?”

  The feeble joke evoked a more genuine smile, and Mina turned to go. Over her shoulder she added, “Don’t let your chocolate go cold, will you? Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

  The door swung to.

  Sipping her chocolate and finding it even now too hot to drink, Elsa pondered. If her inspired guess had come as close to the truth as Mina’s reaction indicated, then—

  Snider!

  Of course!

  Abruptly it all came back. There had been a scandal. This was the man who, at the Nobel award ceremony, had launched a fierce attack on environmentalists and conservationists, called them purblind antiscientific bigots, and claimed that given his head he could already have solved half the problems of the world. Indeed, he had gone so far as to accuse them of being dupes of a communist conspiracy. His opponents had countered by dismissing him as an arrogant megalomaniac.

  The chocolate was cool now; she swigged it down.

  But that didn’t match her impression of Bernard. He didn’t come on like a bigoted autocrat. On the contrary, most of the time he was positively genial. And was there not evidence, abundant evidence, here on the estate, that he was right, after all? The cattle, the sheep, the pigs, the chickens, all those amazing trees on the skyline …

  Suddenly she felt giddy. Swaying, she reached to set her empty mug on the bedside table and had to clutch for support. The plane’s engines were silent. By now the visitor must be indoors.

  The bitch. She’s drugged me. Bernard’s orders?

  It was the last thought before she tumbled on the bed and into oblivion.

  * * *

  Then,
unexpectedly, she was awake again. She felt weak, but her head was clear and her belly calm, and by her watch barely two hours had passed. She had assumed they were knocking her out for the night. Had someone miscalculated the dose? Or had they administered just enough to keep her under until the visitor had gone?

  Had he gone? There was no sound of plane engines.

  With abrupt determination she forced herself to her feet. If there was any chance of snatching a glimpse of this important stranger, she must seize it, be it only to get her own back on whoever had ordered her chocolate to be doped. Leaving the radio playing because its cessation might give her away, she stole noiselessly to the door.

  It wasn’t locked. Mina must have had total confidence in the drug.

  Beyond, the house looked perfectly normal. There was nobody about, but as usual lights had been left on at the head and foot of the stairs. Were the staff in bed, or were they still attending the visitor? If so, they were presumably at the laboratory.

  Afterward, she decided that her decision had been irrational, ascribable to the aftereffects of the drug, but at the time it struck her as absolutely logical to leave the house by the door from the kitchen and head for the lab. More lights were on than generally at night. That suggested the visitor had not yet left—and indeed there was his plane.

  But when she had covered barely half the distance to her goal, alarms sounded from the perimeter fence, just as they had at her own approach. Instantly lights sprang up, dogs barked, the other animals responded, precisely as before. Within seconds someone emerged from the house—she couldn’t see who—and another from the lab.

  Gasping, she whirled and sought cover. There was none nearby. Her only hope, or so she felt in her confusion, was to run for the largest area of darkness.

  But it lay between her and the main gate.

  More lights were turned on. Spotting a clump of chinaberry bushes, she dashed toward it for want of any better concealment and fell on hands and knees in dry dirt. The person from the house—she recognised him now: Felipe, carrying a flashlight and a pistol (Odd! No one had been armed who came to meet her … but that night, of course, the important visitor had already taken off)—rushed past within a metre, unaware of her. From beyond the gate she heard noise: running feet, incoherent shouts, a man sobbing. A man sobbing.