from the top of her head, cascading like artificial moonlight down the mane of pencil-thin, long dark braids that fell to her shoulders, dark against the white of her lab coat.
“ When men fear, there is a breeding ground for meanness,” Dr. L’Esperance said in a clear but curiously mannered voice that managed to carry despite the hum and mutter and shuffling of a hundred bodies before her.
“ Yet, when danger is present, men are often at their best,” she said, and for a hefty pause, said no more. Eleanor shot a glance of ridicule but tempered herself, remembering that she was highly visible and that her reactions were being observed. Eleanor assumed an expression of nearly-in-a-coma pensiveness and concentrated on the back of her brass nameplate.
“ This is a paradox, but in the study of time dimension, we are filled with paradox and focused on paradox. The past as a gateway to the future, and the future as the mere residue of the hopes of the past.”
Eleanor shot a glance at General English, standing by the door, looking impatient, concerned and utterly dumbfounded at whatever meaning there was supposed to be in Dr. L’Esperance’s speech. Eleanor tried not to smile.
“ This study gives us the amazing and blessed opportunity to do what mankind has always wished to do, always yearned to do, and that is to fix our mistakes. Learning from the lessons of the past would enable us, as teachers have forewarned down the millennia, of doing just this. But, man is a short-sighted, impatient and fickle creature, and such warnings and advice inevitably falls on deaf ears. But now we need no longer rely on the versions of the past left to us by others. We no longer need rely on the advice to learn from that which we do not feel. Now, we may experience the lessons ourselves. Now, we may truly know what it is to take our errors and regrets and twist them in our very hands, and make something new, something fine, something wonderful.”
Eleanor glanced up at Dr. L’Esperance, suspecting that there might be tears of easily called up emotion in her eyes at this point, and verified with some self-satisfaction that there were. Another quick glance toward the General also confirmed for her his discomfort at Dr. L’Esperance’s foolish, meaningless dramatic recitation would leave Eleanor with very little competition as regards her authority in the department.
“ The future needs us,” Dr. L’Esperance continued, “it is not theoretical, but a real place that awaits us or people very much like us. Colonel Moore is not chasing imaginary phantoms at this moment. That brave, dear man is confronting ourselves as we were once. As imperfect and perhaps even as savage as future beings will regard us today. We must take care then, not to mock or dismiss the information we glean as pure fancy, for it is treasure which will sustain us in the long years ahead.”
The journalists were quiet. The shuffling and murmuring had ceased. They had been used to official dogma, so much so that they usually listened with only one ear. Dr. L’Esperance’s thin and airy rhetoric might be just as vague as the official line that spoke down to them with arrogance and condescension, and always self-serving platitudes, but her words were gossamer and intriguing, and her exquisite face was a delicate work of art. She had that quality that official spokespersons almost never had -- sincerity.
Eleanor noted with alarm that the press seemed interested, dutiful, and captivated by Dr. L’Esperance, and grew horrified noting that General English had perceived the same thing. He folded his arms with satisfaction and his eyes seemed to light up with excitement and pleasure.
Dr. L’Esperance concluded with a slight, modest bow of her head. The press applauded awkwardly, and actually respectfully reserved their questions until the end because she asked them to do this.
“ And now,” Dr. L’Esperance said, smiling again slightly, as she wiped a tear
“ When men fear, there is a breeding ground for meanness,” Dr. L’Esperance said in a clear but curiously mannered voice that managed to carry despite the hum and mutter and shuffling of a hundred bodies before her.
“ Yet, when danger is present, men are often at their best,” she said, and for a hefty pause, said no more. Eleanor shot a glance of ridicule but tempered herself, remembering that she was highly visible and that her reactions were being observed. Eleanor assumed an expression of nearly-in-a-coma pensiveness and concentrated on the back of her brass nameplate.
“ This is a paradox, but in the study of time dimension, we are filled with paradox and focused on paradox. The past as a gateway to the future, and the future as the mere residue of the hopes of the past.”
Eleanor shot a glance at General English, standing by the door, looking impatient, concerned and utterly dumbfounded at whatever meaning there was supposed to be in Dr. L’Esperance’s speech. Eleanor tried not to smile.
“ This study gives us the amazing and blessed opportunity to do what mankind has always wished to do, always yearned to do, and that is to fix our mistakes. Learning from the lessons of the past would enable us, as teachers have forewarned down the millennia, of doing just this. But, man is a short-sighted, impatient and fickle creature, and such warnings and advice inevitably falls on deaf ears. But now we need no longer rely on the versions of the past left to us by others. We no longer need rely on the advice to learn from that which we do not feel. Now, we may experience the lessons ourselves. Now, we may truly know what it is to take our errors and regrets and twist them in our very hands, and make something new, something fine, something wonderful.”
Eleanor glanced up at Dr. L’Esperance, suspecting that there might be tears of easily called up emotion in her eyes at this point, and verified with some self-satisfaction that there were. Another quick glance toward the General also confirmed for her his discomfort at Dr. L’Esperance’s foolish, meaningless dramatic recitation would leave Eleanor with very little competition as regards her authority in the department.
“ The future needs us,” Dr. L’Esperance continued, “it is not theoretical, but a real place that awaits us or people very much like us. Colonel Moore is not chasing imaginary phantoms at this moment. That brave, dear man is confronting ourselves as we were once. As imperfect and perhaps even as savage as future beings will regard us today. We must take care then, not to mock or dismiss the information we glean as pure fancy, for it is treasure which will sustain us in the long years ahead.”
The journalists were quiet. The shuffling and murmuring had ceased. They had been used to official dogma, so much so that they usually listened with only one ear. Dr. L’Esperance’s thin and airy rhetoric might be just as vague as the official line that spoke down to them with arrogance and condescension, and always self-serving platitudes, but her words were gossamer and intriguing, and her exquisite face was a delicate work of art. She had that quality that official spokespersons almost never had -- sincerity.
Eleanor noted with alarm that the press seemed interested, dutiful, and captivated by Dr. L’Esperance, and grew horrified noting that General English had perceived the same thing. He folded his arms with satisfaction and his eyes seemed to light up with excitement and pleasure.
Dr. L’Esperance concluded with a slight, modest bow of her head. The press applauded awkwardly, and actually respectfully reserved their questions until the end because she asked them to do this.
“ And now,” Dr. L’Esperance said, smiling again slightly, as she wiped a tear
Similar Books
