Part 20 (2/2)

”The idea was not to make you s.e.xless for life, my dear,” the psycher told Loolie. ”There had to be a cue, a key to undo the conditioning. Something easy but improbable, which couldn't possibly happen by accident. I considered several possibilities. Yes. All things considered, the toe-bite seemed best.” He nodded benevolently. ”You recall, Louis, you wanted no matrimonial scandals.”

Mr. Aerovulpa said nothing.

”A beautiful job of imprinting, if I do say so myself.” The psycher beamed. ”Absolutely irreversible, I guarantee it. The man whose toe she bites-” he pointed at Dov, one eye rolling playfully ”-or rather, bit, she will love that man and that man only so long as she lives. Guaranteed!”

In the silence Mr. Aerovulpa pa.s.sed one hand over his Dag Hammarskjold forehead and breathed out carefully. His gaze lingered from Loolie to Dov to Ben Rapelle like a python inspecting inexplicably inedible rabbits.

”It is... possible... that we shall see more of each other,” he observed coldly. ”At the moment I trust it is... agreeable to you that my daughter return to her schooling. Victor.”

”Right here, Louis!”

”You will remain to provide our... apologies to these gentlemen and to accomplish any necessary, ah, restorations. I am... not pleased. Come, Eulalia.”

”Oh, Dovy!” Loolie cried as she was hustled out. Dov's uncle Ben grunted warningly. And the Aerovulpas departed.

But not, of course, permanently.

Came springtime in the Rockies and with it a very round-bellied and love-lorn teenager, escorted this time by a matron of unmistakable character and hardihood. Dov got out the ponies and they rode up into the singing forests and rainbow torrents and all the shy, free, super-delights of the wild country Dov loved. And he saw that Loolie truly wanted to live there and share his kind of life in addition to being totally in love with him, and anyone could see that Loolie herself was luscious and warm-hearted and potentially sensible in spots, especially when it came to getting rid of the matron. And Dov really was a nice person, in spite of his distrust of the Aerovulpa ambiance. (The ambiance was now making itself felt in the form of a so-called demographic survey team snooping all over Calgary.) So when summer ripened Dov journeyed warily to the Aerovulpa island off Pulpit Harbor, where he soon discovered that the ambiance didn't repel him half as much as Loolie attracted him. Even the nicest young man is not immune to the notion of a beautiful semi-virginal ever-adoring child-bride of great fortune.

”What, ah, career do you plan for yourself?” Mr. Aerovulpa asked Dov on one of his rare appearances on the island.

”Avalanche research,” Dov told him, thus confirming the survey team's report. Mr. Aerovulpa's eyelids drooped minutely. The alliances he had contemplated for Loolie had featured interests of a far more seismic type.

”Basically, sir, I'm a geo-ecologist. It's a great field.”

”Oh, it's wonderful, Daddy!” sang Loolie. ”I'm going to do all his records!”

Mr. Aerovulpa's eyes drifted from his daughter's face to her belly. The Lump was now known to be male. Mr. Aerovulpa had not arrived where he was by ignoring facts, and he was really not a twenty-first-century man. ”Ah,” he said drearily, and departed.

But the wedding itself was far from dreary. It was magnificently simple, out on the lawn above thesea, with a forcefield keeping off the Maine weather and an acre of imported wildflowers. The guest list was small, dominated by a number of complicated old ladies of exotic t.i.tle and entourage among whom the Alberta contingent stood out like friendly grain elevators.

And then everybody went away and left Dov and Loolie for a week to themselves in paradise.

”Oh, Dovy,” sighed Loolie on the third day, ”I wish I could stay like this the rest of my life!”

This not very remarkable sentiment was uttered as they lay on the sauna solarium glowing like fresh-boiled shrimps.

”You just say that because you bit my toe,” said Dov.

He was thinking about sailing, to which he had recently been introduced.

”I never!” Loolie protested. She turned over. ”Hey, you know, I wonder. When did I actually meet you?”

”Last Christmas.”

”No, that's what I mean. I mean, I came there because I already loved you, didn't I? And that's where I met you. It's funny.”

”Yeah.”

”I love you so, Dovy.”

”I love you too. Listen, let's take your big boat out today, should we?”

And they had a wonderful sail on the dancing trimaran all the way around Acadia Park Island and back to a great clam dinner. That night in bed afterwards Loolie brought it up again.

”Unh,” said Dov sleepily.

She traced his spine with her nose.

”Listen, Dovy. Wouldn't it be fantastic to live this day over again? I mean like when we're old.”

”Hunh-unh.”

”Daddy has the juniper right here, you know. I was here over Christmas when I did it. That's what the big power plant over by the cove is for, I told you.”

”Hunh.”

”Why don't we do it tomorrow?”

”Unh,” said Dovy. ”Hey, what did you say?”

”We could time-jump tomorrow, together,” Loolie smiled dreamily. ”Then when we're old we could be young like we are for a while. Together.”

”Absolutely not,” said Dov. And he told her why it was an insane idea. He told her and told her.

”It's dangerous. What if one of us turned out to be dead?”

”Oh, if you're dead nothing happens, I mean, you can only switch places with yourself. The, the persona something symmetry, I mean, if you're not there nothing happens. You just stay here. The book says so, it's perfectly safe.”

”It's insane anyway. What about the Lump?” Loolie giggled. ”It would be a great experience for him.”

”What do you mean? What if he finds himself with the mind of a six-month embryo while he's driving a jet?”

”Oh, he couldn't! I mean, he'd know it was going to happen, because it did, you know? So when he got that old he'd sit down or something. Like when I get to be seventy-five I'll know I'll be jumped back here and go and meet you.”

”No, Loolie. It's insane. Forget it.”

So she forgot it. For several hours.”Dovy, I worry so. Isn't it terrible we have to get old? Think how great it would be, having a day to look forward to. Being young again, just for a day. For half an hour, even. Isn't it rotten, thinking about getting old?”

Dov opened one eye. He had felt thoughts like that himself.

”I mean, we wouldn't miss a few hours now. We have so much time. But think when you're, oh, like sixty, maybe you'll be sick or degenerating-and you'll know you're going to jump back and feel great and, and go sailing and be like we are!”

Crafty little Loolie with that ”sailing.” Loolie gripped by the primal dream: pay now, play later.

”You can't be sure it's safe, Loolie.”

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