“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she said.

I closed the Gauss. “I can’t believe the books in here. Do you know there’s a Shakespeare and Company edition of Ulysses over there? Number one.”

“I don’t even know what that is. I’ve been sheltered, Wala, walled off, closeted, imprisoned. Good God. How is it you know this stuff?”

“I know nothing,” I said.

“What is it with you and nothing?”

“Every child does that experiment with gas and heat and charts that line down to zero Kelvin, minus 273.15 degrees Celsius. Well, when I was five and performed the simple experiment and drew my graph, I realized that only the line itself would ever actually get down to that physically unattainable temperature. It was a magic trick of sorts. But simple reason led to me understand that, theoretically, not only should matter disappear at that point, but that there should be no bringing that matter back. Nothing yields nothing.”

“So?”

“Where does it go? How can something disappear without a trace? The universe is supposedly a closed system. No release of energy or anything, just gone. Nothing. I realize that some people say there is simply a lack of particle movement at that temperature, a temperature you can’t get to, and there are probably small fluctuations, but that’s just trying to avoid where reason leads.”

“You sound like a physicist,” she said.

“There’s no reason to be insulting.”

“I don’t understand any of what you’re saying. I don’t care. I don’t find any of that at all interesting. Plus, I think you’re just making it up. I think there is nothing there.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

“Phooey. I’m still thinking about this sexism thing.” With that, she stomped out of the room, her matching naked feet slapping the marble floor.

3

I was napping. I sat in a chair on the lawn, the bay at my feet and, in my lap, Historiae Aethiopicae libri decem, nunquam antea in lucem editi by Heliodorus. I didn’t have the energy to read the Greek, but I let the Latin dedicatory put me to sleep. The age and weight of the slim volume caused my muscles to relax.

“What have you there?” Sill asked, waking me.

“A very old novel,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind. DeMarcus said I could bring out any book I liked.”

“Of course.”

“Where is your dog?” Sill asked.

“Fat face,” Eigen said.

“He’s lying in the sun on the veranda. He looked so comfortable that I couldn’t bring myself to move him.”

“Are you ready for some lunch?”

Eigen was dressed in tennis whites now, with white sneakers that again matched.

“You look sporty,” I said.

“I am,” she said. “I have a lesson after lunch.”

I turned around in my chair to see that DeMarcus had somehow put up a table and spread out lunch without my noticing.

“Food is important,” Sill said.

As we settled into our chairs, DeMarcus led another man toward us. He was a tall man, with a military posture, I thought. I might have thought that even if he hadn’t been wearing an army uniform.