Factoring Humanity

But -

I can’t do this, he thought. I can’t.

He turned around and headed back up the curving hallway.

Kyle finished dictating his report and headed over to The Water Hole; he’d arranged to meet Stone Bentley there, with Stone coming directly from a meeting he’d had at the Royal Ontario Museum.

“You look in a good mood,” said Stone as Kyle sat down opposite him.

Kyle grinned. “I feel better than I have for ages. My daughter has realized she was wrong.”

Stone lifted his eyebrows. “That’s wonderful!”

“Isn’t it, though? It’ll be my birthday in a few weeks — I couldn’t ask for a better present.”

A server arrived.

“A glass of red wine,” said Kyle. Stone already had a mug of beer in front of him.

The server scurried away.

“I want to thank you, Stone,” said Kyle. “I don’t know if I could have gotten through this without you.” Stone said nothing, so Kyle went on. “Sometimes it’s not easy being a man — people tend to assume we’re guilty, I guess. Anyway, your support meant a lot to me. Knowing that you’d gone through something a bit similar, and survived it, gave me — I don’t know, I guess ‘hope’ is the right word.”

The server reappeared, depositing Kyle’s wineglass. Kyle nodded thanks at the young woman, then lifted his drink. “To us — a pair of survivors.”

After a moment, Stone lifted his beer and allowed Kyle to clink his glass against the mug. But Stone did not take a sip. He lowered his mug back to the tabletop and looked off in the distance.

“I did it,” he said softly.

Kyle wasn’t following. “Sorry?”

Stone looked at Kyle. “I did it… that girl, five years ago. I did harass her.” He held Kyle’s gaze for a few seconds, apparently searching for a reaction, then looked back down at the tablecloth.

“But the student recanted,” said Kyle.

Stone made an almost imperceptible nod. “She knew she’d lost the fight and she was getting the cold shoulder from a lot of other male faculty members. She thought it would help.” He did take a gulp of his beer now. “She transferred to York.” He shrugged a little. “Fresh start.”

Kyle didn’t know what to say. He looked around the bar for a time.

“I didn’t — ” said Stone. “I know this doesn’t excuse it, but I was going through a bad time. Denise and I were getting a divorce. I — ” He stopped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

Kyle exhaled. “You spent all this time listening to me go on about my troubles with Becky.”

Stone shrugged again. “I thought you were guilty.”

Kyle’s voice took on a sharp edge. “I told you I wasn’t.”

“I know, I know. But if you were guilty, well, then you were a worse bastard than me, see? You’re an okay guy, Kyle — I figured if a guy like you could do something that bad, well, then maybe it excused what I did a bit. Just something that sometimes happens, you know?”

“Christ, Stone.”

“I know. But I won’t ever do it again.”

“Recidivism — ”

“No. No, I’m different now. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve changed. Something in me has changed.” Stone reached into his pocket, pulled out his SmartCash card. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to see me anymore. I’m glad it worked out between you and your daughter. Really, I am.” He rose to his feet.

“No,” said Kyle. “Stay.”

Stone hesitated for a few moments. “You sure?”

Kyle nodded. “I’m sure.”

On Tuesday morning, Heather was struggling up the steps to Mullin Hall, her arms full of books she wanted to have handy at Kyle’s lab for tomorrow’s press conference. The humidity was mercifully low today, and the sky overhead was a pristine cerulean bowl.

Just in front of her was a familiar-looking broad back wearing a Varsity Blues jacket with the name “Kolmex” emblazoned on it — the same dumb lug who had let the door to Sid Smith slam in Heather and Paul’s faces two weeks ago.

She thought about calling out to him, but to her astonishment, when he reached the door, he stopped, looked around to see if anyone was coming, caught sight of Heather, opened the door and held it for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she passed the fellow.

He smiled at her. “My pleasure. Have a nice day.”

The funny thing, Heather thought, was he sounded like he really meant it.

41

We Are Not Alone.

It was the title of the book that had first raised public awareness about the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. The book, by Walter Sullivan, former science editor of The New York Times, was published in 1964.

Back then, it had been a bold assertion, based on theory and conjecture but no actual evidence — there was not a scintilla of proof that we really weren’t alone in the universe.

Humanity went about its business much as it always had. The Vietnam War continued, as did apartheid. Rates of murder and other violent crimes continued to rise.

We Are Not Alone.