“That’s the problem. You and Eliot have different world views. He’s basically a cheerful pessimist.”

Dan laughed. “And I’m a morose optimist.”

“In a way. Eliot knows in his heart that we’ll never get back on line with New New. They’re all dead. Whereas you think—”

“What do you think?”

“Me? About New New?”

“Yeah. Am I wasting my time, and everybody else’s? Waiting for ghosts to come on line?”

“No. Even if it were only a thousand-to-one chance. We have to be prepared.”

“Thanks. Somebody else thinks I’m not useless.” He looked at the glass of boo and poured it back into the bottle. “Look, I’ve got to … go do something. See you at John’s.”

“Okay.” She watched him hurry off. Dan was truly upset, for him not to drink. Or maybe he was headed for a woman, which didn’t seem likely. But who could figure out men? She picked out a simple melody over and over and recalled what they had said. Maybe she could’ve broken it to him more gently. No. Maybe she should have asked him to stay, and talk it out. No. Don’t push him. Maybe she should have said nothing; waited until they were all together tonight. No, he’d say why didn’t you tell me earlier? Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Papa gonna buy you a mockin’ bird. If that mockin’ bird don’t sing, Papa gonna buy you a diamond ring …

TWO PARTS DISCORD

16 August 99 [27 Muhammed 295]—It was the worst thing I could do, emotionally, but she drew me like a magnet. Before I went to talk Sam over with everybody, I went down to Creche and watched the baby. From behind glass, invisible.

I understand the rationale for not touching; you can only touch the baby while she’s also in contact with the creche mother. So as not to confuse her bonding. But part of me needs bonding, too.