..."
"I should think so!" the professor announced, now brave enough to get out of bed and put on his robe and slippers.
He rushed reluctantly down the stairs. Choosing the most viciously pointed umbrella in the stand, he unlatched the door and put his foot behind, only to have the heavy oak bashed into his face as the door was violently pushed open.
"Have me waiting here all night in the dark, would you! Well, get the rest of my stuff. It's on the curb."
"Hyperica?"
"Who'd you think it is? Get Mum up. I need a feed."
It was indeed his daughter, looking and, ah, smelling amazingly unkempt. There was a huddle of bags around her, and another clump at the curb. Cloudmere marvelled at the loss of his daughter's looks. She'd always been so particular. And this new low-class talk? Was it an act? Maybe, because there were her mirrors, leaning against the bags at the curb. But she hadn't lost her manners or her acid-drop tongue.
"Oy, Baldy! Wacher waitin for?" Hyperica prodded, literally by knocking her knuckles against his pate.
He jerked his head away from her, and from contemplating the ramifications of another detail of her appearance— the ominous evidence, even to his unobservant eye, that his daughter was eating for two.
"You're back?" Grace's stricken voice called down the stairs.
Hyperica sneered up at her mother. "No, I'm front. What's it look like? Give you something to do with your life for a change."
Grace grabbed the balustrade for support. "Miss Cassandra. Miss Cassandra," she moaned. "She was right. Cloudy!"
"Gaw! This place! Eh, I'm hungr— eh, wachyer step!" Hyperica yowled as she crashed against the wall, pushed aside by her father.
Grace ran down the stairs and out the door, grabbing him by the back of his robe.
"Where are you going?"
"To Grusha's."
"You can't escape now! What about me?"
"What about us? I'm not coming home until we solve it!"
"Solve her? How? Murder?"
"No. I wouldn't know how. Physics, Grace. Physics. You were right. What good am I if I can't do something useful?"
He glanced over her shoulder to the doorway of their home. Then he took her hands in his. "I solemnly swear to you, Grace. In less than a month, she will be gone. Grusha and I will do something beyond any Nobel ever earned ... though won't be able to report our findings. " He snorted abruptly, as he sometimes did when he made an especially amusing calculation. "Or rather 'losings' ..."
"Hey. Come back! I'm hungry!" wafted from the doorway behind, ignored by both.
"And before? Why didn't you?"
"I didn't realize we could. Or that we had to. Or that she... Grace, I ..."
"Hate her?" Grace smiled.
The professor blinked.
"Join the club," Grace giggled.
"You, too?"
"Who not, Cloudy? But what about Miss Cassandra? Her prediction."
"That fake? How can you believe ... Well, we shall have to send her, too. Won't take chances."
Grace wrapped her arms around his neck. But then a new worry pulled her off. "Where? Where will you send them?"
Cloudmere's mind was already yearning to get to work. This was an unpleasant interruption.
"Somewhere! I promise. But for something no one has ever achieved, now you want to know where? Do you care?"
"Hey! I'm starving!"
" ... No, actually... but don't hurt her baby."
"Her baby?"
"Yes. I want it to live."
"Why?"
The pavement was suddenly crowded with Hyperica's presence. "Hey you olds, want me to report you for child abuse?" She grabbed Grace's arm. "I need food!"
"Do you have to ask, Cloudy?" Grace smiled, and turning to Hyperica yet a different smile, she took her daughter's hand. "Welcome home, dear. Let's run you a bath first, shall we?"
Temptation of the Seven Scientists
Once there were, and perhaps still are: a certain seven scientists, each with a yearning heart. They lived by a forest so dense and vast that not one scientist knew another, though their spoor often met on the forest paths. The scientists were named S1, S2, S3 and so on, all the way to S7; and although
"I should think so!" the professor announced, now brave enough to get out of bed and put on his robe and slippers.
He rushed reluctantly down the stairs. Choosing the most viciously pointed umbrella in the stand, he unlatched the door and put his foot behind, only to have the heavy oak bashed into his face as the door was violently pushed open.
"Have me waiting here all night in the dark, would you! Well, get the rest of my stuff. It's on the curb."
"Hyperica?"
"Who'd you think it is? Get Mum up. I need a feed."
It was indeed his daughter, looking and, ah, smelling amazingly unkempt. There was a huddle of bags around her, and another clump at the curb. Cloudmere marvelled at the loss of his daughter's looks. She'd always been so particular. And this new low-class talk? Was it an act? Maybe, because there were her mirrors, leaning against the bags at the curb. But she hadn't lost her manners or her acid-drop tongue.
"Oy, Baldy! Wacher waitin for?" Hyperica prodded, literally by knocking her knuckles against his pate.
He jerked his head away from her, and from contemplating the ramifications of another detail of her appearance— the ominous evidence, even to his unobservant eye, that his daughter was eating for two.
"You're back?" Grace's stricken voice called down the stairs.
Hyperica sneered up at her mother. "No, I'm front. What's it look like? Give you something to do with your life for a change."
Grace grabbed the balustrade for support. "Miss Cassandra. Miss Cassandra," she moaned. "She was right. Cloudy!"
"Gaw! This place! Eh, I'm hungr— eh, wachyer step!" Hyperica yowled as she crashed against the wall, pushed aside by her father.
Grace ran down the stairs and out the door, grabbing him by the back of his robe.
"Where are you going?"
"To Grusha's."
"You can't escape now! What about me?"
"What about us? I'm not coming home until we solve it!"
"Solve her? How? Murder?"
"No. I wouldn't know how. Physics, Grace. Physics. You were right. What good am I if I can't do something useful?"
He glanced over her shoulder to the doorway of their home. Then he took her hands in his. "I solemnly swear to you, Grace. In less than a month, she will be gone. Grusha and I will do something beyond any Nobel ever earned ... though won't be able to report our findings. " He snorted abruptly, as he sometimes did when he made an especially amusing calculation. "Or rather 'losings' ..."
"Hey. Come back! I'm hungry!" wafted from the doorway behind, ignored by both.
"And before? Why didn't you?"
"I didn't realize we could. Or that we had to. Or that she... Grace, I ..."
"Hate her?" Grace smiled.
The professor blinked.
"Join the club," Grace giggled.
"You, too?"
"Who not, Cloudy? But what about Miss Cassandra? Her prediction."
"That fake? How can you believe ... Well, we shall have to send her, too. Won't take chances."
Grace wrapped her arms around his neck. But then a new worry pulled her off. "Where? Where will you send them?"
Cloudmere's mind was already yearning to get to work. This was an unpleasant interruption.
"Somewhere! I promise. But for something no one has ever achieved, now you want to know where? Do you care?"
"Hey! I'm starving!"
" ... No, actually... but don't hurt her baby."
"Her baby?"
"Yes. I want it to live."
"Why?"
The pavement was suddenly crowded with Hyperica's presence. "Hey you olds, want me to report you for child abuse?" She grabbed Grace's arm. "I need food!"
"Do you have to ask, Cloudy?" Grace smiled, and turning to Hyperica yet a different smile, she took her daughter's hand. "Welcome home, dear. Let's run you a bath first, shall we?"
Temptation of the Seven Scientists
Once there were, and perhaps still are: a certain seven scientists, each with a yearning heart. They lived by a forest so dense and vast that not one scientist knew another, though their spoor often met on the forest paths. The scientists were named S1, S2, S3 and so on, all the way to S7; and although
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