“Hello, General,” Sill said.

“John.” He shook Sill’s hand.

“General Takitall, I’d like you to meet my new associates, Professors Eigen Vector and Wala Kitu.”

“Please, call me Auric,” the general said. He looked at me. “Professor Kitu, I’ve heard so much about you.”

I was surprised but did not show it. “General.”

“Sit, Auric. Have some lunch,” Sill said.

On the table was a platter covered with Almas caviar, the dark, greenish-black roe surrounded by thin slices of Densuke watermelon, the black rinds beautiful against the red flesh. My eyes stopped at the platter right in front of me.

“Is that …”

“Yes, fugu,” Sill said. “If that is what you were thinking. I have a fugu chef in the kitchen. It’s a frequent treat.”

“Fugu?” Eigen asked.

“Yes, puffer fish,” John said. “Deadly toxic if not handled with the utmost precision. Every bite is an adventure. Please, try it.”

“That’s why I don’t eat it,” Takitall said. “I never know when I’ve outlived my usefulness with this one.”

Sill and Takitall laughed.

I took one of the translucent slices and put it on my plate. I placed a bit of the raw fish on my tongue and let it melt.

“Heavenly, isn’t it?” Sill said. “Don’t forget the dessert. Those are real Famous Amos cookies.”

“At least something here is rare,” I said.

“I don’t think Wally would like to hear that,” Sill said.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Wally Amos bakes these every morning. He lives in one of the guest cottages.”

“The real Famous Amos,” I said. For the first time I felt myself in awe and found the feeling slightly embarrassing.

“Soon we’ll all be as famous as Amos,” Sill said. He and Takitall laughed again.

Eigen looked at me, wanting to laugh, but sharing my confusion.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sill said. He put his hand on Eigen’s arm. “Auric, General Takitall, is the commanding officer at Fort Knox.”

“General Auric B. Takitall, commanding officer of the US Army Human Resources Command, Fort Knox, Kentucky, at your service,” Takitall said, saluting, clearly not taking himself seriously at all. “I love that shit.”

“At your service,” Sill repeated. He saluted as well. “DeMarcus!”

DeMarcus was there as if he already had been there. “Sir?”

“Bring the general his drink,” Sill said.

“It’s so early,” Takitall said.

“What do you military types say? The White ones, I mean.”

Takitall laughed. “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Vodka and ginger ale.”

“Very good, sir.” DeMarcus remained, waiting.

“To drink?” Sill asked me.

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Eigen?”

“I’ll try the vodka and ginger ale,” she said.

“Have you ever had alcohol?” I asked Eigen.

She shook her head.

“Fuddy-duddy,” Sill called me. “DeMarcus, bring Eigen a weak one. And I’ll have my usual.”

DeMarcus nodded and walked away.

Takitall watched the servant leave. “Can he be trusted?”

“DeMarcus?” Sill laughed. “He’s like a member of the family.”

“Still, he’s White.”

“I’m White,” Eigen said.

“But you’re a mathematician,” Sill said. “You’re not quite of this world. Like Wala, here. He’s, well, he’s nothing. Right, Wala?”