Dagger Key and Other Stories

It was past eleven before we concluded our business. The waiters brought in the cheese cart; the manager put in an appearance, thanked us for our business, and then they withdrew. Vid and Daniele occupied one end of the table, carrying on a faltering conversation that, judging by what I heard, made sense only to them. At the other end, Lucan sat with the professor, prompting him in his ceaseless lecture, rewarding him now and again with a wedge of cheese. Their political differences set aside for the moment, Elaine and Jenay chatted and laughed by the door, while Giacinta had followed Liliana out onto the balcony. She had unbuttoned Liliana’s blouse and they were embracing.

We had that night made significant decisions that would affect millions of lives, but I was more interested in Giacinta’s well-being, in repairing the damage Lucan had done, than I was with assessing my evening’s work, second-guessing the compromises I had made and weighing them out against what I had won. Goaded by Lucan’s tampering, encouraged by Jenay-and-Elaine’s validation of my choice, but mainly due to the thrust of my own peculiar tastes, I had developed an affection for Giacinta during the brief span of our relationship and I felt no small jealousy toward Liliana—though Giacinta’s attraction for her was a contrivance, a falsity, mine for Gia was equally false, equally contrived, and the only way I could deny this was to steer her away from Liliana and immerse both of us in an illusion I created. But manipulating a human mind is like entering a room filled with mist and fashioned of fragile crystal, and you must step carefully or else you will break everything. Restoring a mind is still more difficult—it was nothing I could accomplish without a degree of concentration difficult to achieve at Baldassaro’s. And so, deciding that repairs would have to wait until we were back at the Villa Ruggieri, I went to refill my wine glass, coming within earshot of Lucan and the professor.

“One might reasonably conjecture,” Professor Rappenglueck was saying, staring at the cheese cart, “that the great turns in human history were accomplished by force of arms, by inventions that caused society to evolve, and so forth. Who could imagine…” His features twisted as he sought to complete the sentence.

“Come on, Rappy.” Lucan waggled a wedge of gouda in front of the professor. “‘That for all intents and purposes…’”

“Who could imagine,” the professor went on, “that for all intents and purposes our history ended in the mid-Paleolithic with the discovery by Cro-Magnon man that a variety of starthistle, when attacked by rhinocyllus conicus…”

“‘…yielded a chemical,’” Lucan prompted.

“…a chemical…” The professor licked his lips. “…that slowed the rate of…”

Lucan clicked his tongue in annoyance and fed Rappenglueck the cheese.

I pulled back a chair and sat, stretching out my legs. “Doesn’t your pet mouse know any other tricks?”

“It’s a synaptic response,” Lucan said absently. “He senses the importance of these gatherings, and he tends to think he’s back in Geneva, giving the address he prepared for the IGY conference.”

“The one you prevented him from giving,” I said. “By destroying him.”

Lucan’s face hardened, yet he refused to rise to the bait. He cut another wedge from the wheel of gouda. The professor was still nibbling on the previous wedge, yellow crumbs in his beard; he chewed faster on seeing the fresh wedge.

“A year ago,” said Lucan wistfully, “he could have recited entire paragraphs. Now he can barely get through a sentence. He’s falling apart.” He fed the professor the second wedge, stroked his hair, and spoke to him as though to a precious child. “But you were almost famous, weren’t you, Rappy? You might have been as famous as Newton or Leakey.”

“Tell me. Do you still fuck him?” I asked, repulsed by Lucan’s display of intimacy.

“You know, I think I’ll answer your question. One day the information may come in handy.” Lucan resettled in his chair. “At home, Rappy’s almost his old self some days. On those days, sometimes the illusion of wholeness suffices and we’re affectionate with one another. Is there anything more you’d care to know?”

The professor made a complaining noise; he had finished his gouda.

“No,” I said. “I think I’ve got the picture.”

“You really are an astonishing fool!” Lucan hacked at the cheese. “For someone who became a clan leader in so short a time, you have the most appalling blindness. You can’t see yourself at all.”

“And you can, I suppose?”

“See you? Oh, yes. The fact is, I’ve always recognized your potential. One day you’ll be my successor, and I have the highest of hopes for your term. If a cure for your blindness is found, that is.” He tipped his head to the side. “Would it surprise you to learn that I espoused attitudes similar to yours when I was young? Regarding the animals, I mean.”