Authors: Clara Ward
“Hardly worth it for just one.”
“Oh Reggie, you’re crazy. Do you want some?”
By the time they reached the Easter party Sunday, Sarah was out of her funk and swinging toward a more manic frame of mind. This was probably a good thing, since the party turned out to be a bit more than she’d expected.
The ex-pat party Tom had mentioned was at the home of the Johnson family on the outskirts of Bangkok. Sarah and Reggie entered through a traditional Thai archway covered with gold and gems. She was fairly sure they couldn’t be real, could they?
Beyond the gate was a courtyard garden large enough to host an intimate gathering for elephants. Encircling the courtyard was a series of buildings, each representing a different architectural innovation, and some more like sets designed for Star Trek. There were three that Sarah mostly understood. One was a raised wooden platform with a bamboo roof and open sides, which could be covered by rolling down woven mats. Another was made of meter thick sod blocks, clearly cut by a machine and transported from who knows where, but Sarah had read about such houses in California, where they were considered oh-so-environmentally-correct. The final configuration that she had seen before was a cluster of white domes. They looked like bubbles blown in milk, but Sarah knew they were made of foam blown on site and allowed to harden. These domes balanced solar panels on top, like chocolate shavings sprinkled on milk bubbles.
Several other designs around the courtyard also sported solar
panels. Some of the buildings were metal or ceramic. One was covered in a mosaic of tiny mirrors, which may or may not have reflected additional sunlight toward the panels on its neighbors. Another looked like it was made of tinker toys. Sarah wondered if the owners were eccentrics or some form of extremists. She also wondered what she was doing at their party.
The enormous courtyard boasted five tables of food with caterers dressed in white standing ready to serve. There were great roasts of lamb and ham and turkey. An enormous bowl held citrus segments, which had been individually peeled, not just to remove the inedible outer skin, but also to remove the film that usually surrounded each section. Sure, mandarin oranges could be bought that way in cans, but Sarah was pretty sure these segments were fresh and freshly skinned. There were dozens of bowls with salads, both Western and Asian. Nuts, dried fruits, fresh tropical fruits, deviled eggs, seafood, and miniature pastries covered artistically arranged trays. Then one whole table held traditional Easter candies from the states. Jelly beans, malted milk eggs, and marshmallow chicks filled bowls around the outside of the table. In the middle was a carved ice vase full of daffodils, daffodils that on closer inspection appeared to be sculpted from something like chocolate. If there had been Easter parties like this in the States, Sarah had never been invited.
Running all around, mostly oblivious to the finery, were a dozen or so children filling Easter baskets with what appeared to be boiled eggs died the traditional way and not too expertly, probably by some subset of the scurrying children.
Sarah tried to guess which child most likely lived here. If she could spot a Johnson, the youngster might lead them to their hosts. Or possibly there would be a strong family resemblance. She began to explain her reasoning to Reggie, hoping that he’d be able to help her identify their hosts and derive the correct etiquette for the situation.
“Actually, I think I already spotted them and they just stepped inside,” he said.
“Oh, how do you know?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Reggie glanced around, then continued in a more private tone, “Tom said the hosts were telepaths. I think there are only three telepaths here, an older couple and the fellow sitting alone over there.”
“How can you tell?”
“I started noticing something back at CDC. I realized the people who worked there, your Chen friends, and Tom all had something in common. I think it’s in the way they move or their posture. Funny, but it’s how I always pictured elves. When we left the plane in Bangkok, I knew those two men waiting for us were teeps before anyone signaled. When we walked in here, I spotted three people who seemed likely. Of course, I haven’t tested myself yet, but we can see what we learn today.”
Sarah opened her mouth before she knew what to say. “Is it really that easy? Could I learn it?”
“We should find out if I’m right first.”
They walked over to the man Reggie had noted who was sitting alone. He was pale, as if he didn’t go outside much, and his hair was light brown, cut conservatively, but with a cowlick toward the back. His white polo shirt looked pressed, and was tucked in neatly but not stylishly. He sat with his arms crossed, staring at a flower as if he’d rather read a book. Sarah would never have gone up to talk to him on her own, but Reggie slid in casually, motioning to an empty bench and asking, “May we join you?”
“Of course.”
“My name’s Reggie Malone and this is Sarah Duncan.”
“James Morton. Pleased to meet you.”
There was a pause. Sarah ran her fingertips over the smooth sanded grain of the bench. Her mind insisted she knew that name from somewhere, and the man looked vaguely familiar. But she couldn’t place him.
Reggie asked, “Have you been in Thailand long?”
“Over ten years.”
“Oh, what brought you here?”
“Work.”
It seemed James was not an easy conversationalist. Sarah felt obliged to help Reggie out. And then, she knew.
“Was your dad Chris Morton?”
“Ah, yes.” James curled the fingers of both hands around the arms of his chair and met Sarah’s eyes with sudden interest.
“He ran a—a fertility service?”
“Yes.” James’ voice wavered with discomfort, like he wasn’t sure where she was going with this and didn’t like any of the possibilities. Was it fair to confront him? But what else could she do now?
“My mom went there, under the name Molly Bernard.”
He was still looking at her. His hands still clutched the chair arms, but one finger on his right hand began to tap rapidly, when it stopped, a left finger took up the beat.
Sarah’s fingertips stroked the bench again. “I’ve been told, well, that things weren’t quite what they appeared to be.”
“What exactly are you saying?” James asked.
What could she say? She wasn’t supposed to mention teeps or teeks unless she knew the other person was one. But Reggie thought this guy was, and if he was who he said he was—Oh! He was probably trying to talk to her telepathically, figuring what she must be saying, but he didn’t know why she wasn’t answering. Sarah felt really stupid for a moment, then decided she was sure enough.
“Oh, I should explain better. I’m not a teep, just a teek.”
There was an awkward pause while James appeared to process the information, his whole face motionless for a moment. Reggie raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sarah. Was he saying “I was right” or “You look just like that when you’re thinking”? Either one might be appropriate.
James pulled in his arms, wiped his hands on his pants, looked at Sarah, and leaned forward a bit.
“Where did you hear about me?”
“From someone at the CDC.”
“You’re the teek who fled the U.S. a couple weeks ago? I hadn’t heard you weren’t a teep. But the CDC says you’re related to me? When were you born?”
“October 25th, 1999.”
“Just young enough to be either my half-sister or my daughter. Is your mother a teep or a teek?”
“Not that anyone knows. She’s dead, but her relatives are teeps.”
“Interesting. Would you be willing to let me analyze your DNA? We haven’t figured out teeks yet. I haven’t heard of any others that weren’t teeps, and if you could have teeps on both sides—No teeks that you know of?”
“No, and I’m not sure I want my DNA figured out. Are you saying you know what makes someone a teep? You could test for it?”
“You know, I really shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this. Perhaps you should have asked someone to introduce us. I mean, usually, a teep just by what they are can, but still, before I talk about my research I’m supposed to know you’re cleared. Not that we always bother,” he muttered, turning to Reggie. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name. Are you a teek also?”
Reggie shook his head, looking unusually embarrassed. Sarah put a hand on his knee and said, “He’s my boyfriend, Reggie Malone. He was at the CDC with me and knows everything I do, but he’s not a teep or a teek.”
James’ forehead wrinkled, and his glance looked even less friendly.
Sarah felt she wasn’t handling the conversation well. She felt smaller, childlike. But she took a breath and inflated herself with innocent defiance. “Look, I’m sorry that we’re not teeps and we don’t really fit into this system well. It’s been kind of a problem for us too. We were invited to this party, but there’s no one here we know. So who would introduce us? We only guessed who you were and who the Johnsons might be, because Reggie thinks he can tell by how people move.”
“What?” James looked momentarily horrified then turned wide-eyed to Reggie. “You looked around and guessed I was a teep?”
Reggie sat up straighter and squared his shoulder in one of those “take me serious” guy poses. “Yeah. I picked out you and an older couple, a graying Caucasian man and a smallish Asian woman.”
“And Sarah?”
“No. She moves . . . differently.”
“None of the servers or kids look like teeps?”
Reggie looked around again. “No, but the girl standing over there does. She wasn’t here before.”
James turned to look. “That’s Emma Johnson. Sure to be a telepath, since both parents are, and she’s about that age, let me call her and see.”
Emma looked up. She met James’ gaze with a mixture of juvenile annoyance and embarrassment, then stalked away into the house. James, on the other hand, looked pleased. He quickly pulled out a battered PDA, selected a screen, tapped in one dot, and hid it away again.
When the silence stretched, James said, “Emma’s gone to find her parents. I told her it was important. If you can really spot teeps, that could be very useful. Just knowing that none of the servers are would please the government.” At a quizzical look from Reggie, James continued. “Teeps often try to find employees with closed minds. Some pass it off as respect for privacy, but it’s also embarrassing to have your butler thinking bad things about you as he greets your friends. Anyway, they can try speaking telepathically to applicants with closed minds, but they can’t know if the person’s just refusing to answer.”
Sarah said. “You want Reggie to check for spies!”
“Well, we’d have to test his accuracy first, but it would be much easier than sneaking genetic samples. Here come Samuel and Ida.”
There followed an awkward minute of silence, some polite spoken introductions, and a “tour” of the media room. From the outside, the media room resembled a white shoebox with solar panels for a lid. At the doorway, it became obvious that the walls were two feet thick. Once inside, it was demonstrated that inside those walls was a hollow metal framework covered with snap in panels, about two feet square. After removing one panel, Samuel extracted a photo album, which he handed to James, who flipped through and pointed at pictures. It was quickly established that Reggie couldn’t identify teeps in still photographs.
Another wall panel was removed to reveal a computer console. A few pull down menus later, a home video began to project on one wall of the room. It was a documentary, apparently filmed and edited by Emma, about a dance troop she belonged to.
“This is Aliana Carpenter,” intoned a high pitched voice from off camera, “She teaches tap and Irish step dancing. She’s about to lead the senior troop in a review from ‘Riverdance.’”
“Nope,” said Reggie.
Then the dancing began. Sarah had never seen anything like it. Her mind began to blend it into a floor exercise routine.
“Got it. That one, that one, and that one.”
“Yes!” said James.
“Oh my,” said Ida.
Samuel turned off the video before the end. Sarah was disappointed. She realized everyone else was more interested in Reggie’s new ability, which was good. But the step dancing . . . She had to learn it. For now though, she forced her mind back to the conversation.
Ida was saying, “. . . Well and good, James. But this isn’t the place to discuss it. Invite him round to your office. This is a mixed party, not a
place for teep business.”
“Can you come tomorrow afternoon?” James asked Reggie. “I could set up more video tests and get clearance by then, and if you’re not opposed to a blood test? You don’t have any teep relatives do you?”
“I don’t think so, but I only started noticing teeps this week. Perhaps we shouldn’t rush into anything.”
“I’ll tell you what, both of you come out tomorrow and we’ll discuss how we can help each other. I can pay you for your time, and it’s all in the interest of science.”
Before they left the media room, Reggie had James’ card and they’d tentatively agreed to meet at two the next day.
In the courtyard, the sun was brighter. The aroma of meat and tropical fruit hung heavy in the air. Reggie and Sarah managed to select some lunch and find a place to eat before they saw the Chens arrive. Sarah took over introducing them to their hosts. Then she pulled an extra table to where she and Reggie had settled, so they could eat lunch together. It was good to see old friends, even if she had only known them for a month. They shared mundane news about settling in and looking for work and housing.