Ancient Shores by Jack McDevitt Page B

town named for the lake.)
    Subsequently she became interested in the tribe, made some friends, and in time acquired what she liked to think of as a Sioux perspective: I would live where the sky is open, where fences are not, and where the Spirit walks the earth .
    One of the friends was Andrea Hawk, a Devil’s Lake talk show host, who captured for April the sense of a people bypassed by history. April was saddened by the poverty she saw on the reservation and by Andrea’s frustration. “We live too much on the largesse of the whites,” Andrea had told her. “We have forgotten how to make do for ourselves.” Andrea pointed out that Native-American males die so young, from drugs and disease and violence, that the most prosperous establishment on many reservations is the funeral home.
    April’s own life was hedged in by fences. A marriage had gone sour. She wanted both family andcareer but had been unable to balance the needs of a husband with the long hours her job required. She was in her mid-thirties now, and she had no sense of satisfaction from all the activity. Accomplishments, yes. But if she died tonight, her life would not have counted for anything. She would leave nothing behind.
    At least, that was how she had felt until running the test on Max Collingwood’s piece of cloth. Curiously, she had been only vaguely aware of her dissatisfaction until the test results came in and she realized what she had in her hand.
    The tributes for Harvey were moving. Several people described how much they had enjoyed working for him, how he had inspired them, why he was a good boss. Two former employees of Colson who had gone on to greater things attributed their success to his inspiration. The first principle of his credo, said one, had carried her through dark days: Do the right thing, regardless of consequences . That was Mary Embry, who had become an operations chief with Dow. “It’s not always a path to promotion,” she said. “But it made me realize that I had to be able to respect myself before others would.” She smiled warmly at Harvey, who looked embarrassed.
    The director added his own praise. “Forty years is a long time,” he said. “Harvey always said what he thought. Sometimes I didn’t want to hear it.” Laughter. “Sometimes I really didn’t want to hear it.” Louder laughter. “But you never ducked, Harv. And I’m grateful for that.” Applause.
    “I’ll add this for everyone in the room who wants to be a manager: Look for someone like Harvey on your staff, to tell you what you need to hear. Treat him well. Make him your conscience.”
    They cheered, Harvey stood, and April actually saw tears around her. He beamed in the rush of affection. When things subsided, he symbolically dragged the lectern to one side. (His refusal to use a lectern was part of the body of corporate myth.) He thanked hiscoworkers for their kindness and, as he always did, spoke to them about themselves. “In some ways,” he said, “this is the finest moment of my life. I’d like to think that Colson Laboratories has a more solid foundation than it had before I came, and that its employees and customers are better off. If that’s true, and if I can claim some credit for that, I’d feel that my years here have been successful.”
    April suspected she had never seen him this happy. Not during her twelve years with Colson Labs. And she thought how very sad that was.
    The associate director had devoted his life to the success of the company and its employees. He had refused to settle for anything less than excellence. And now, addressing his colleagues on this final night, he was saying it again. “Never confuse perfection with production. People who don’t make mistakes aren’t doing anything.”
    His subordinates loved him.
    She watched him now as he thanked the rank and file. He was walking into the dark. At the end of this celebration he would go back to his office for the rest of the week, and then it would be