Prabir disentangled himself and sat on the side of the bed. His heart was pounding, and there was a red streak across his
vision, but he’d pulled away without even thinking. He still lost his temper too easily, but through eight long years with
Keith and Amita he’d trained himself to withdraw, not lash out.
‘Prabir?
Shit
. I didn’t mean—’ Felix swung his legs around and sat beside him.
Prabir waited until he could speak calmly. ‘I really set myself up for that one.’
‘Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No!’ Felix managed to sound both contrite and indignant. ‘Even if the theory’s true … all it’s describing is the survival
of the trait through a statistical advantage. It says nothing about the actions of individuals.’ There was an awkward silence,
then he conceded, ‘But it was pretty crass of me to bring it up like that. I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it.’ Prabir stared down at the worn linoleum at his feet, his anger draining away. ‘You know, in high school I used
to try to start relationships with girls I thought Madhusree would look up to?’ He laughed, though the memory of it still
made him cringe. ‘Which probably would have been enough to doom the entire endeavour, even if I’d been straight. And when
I finally stopped kidding myself that there was any chance of that … I just felt like I’d fucked up again. I couldn’t even
give her a sister-in-law with attitude, to make up for my stupidity in bringing her to Amita.’
Felix said, ‘You should have trusted her more. You should have known she didn’t need it.’
Prabir snorted derisively. ‘That’s easy to say now! But why should you trust a child to overcome being brought up by fools?
Was I supposed to assume that she was genetically endowed with so much innate good sense that nothing anyone could do would
harm her?’
‘Hmm.’ Felix seemed genuinely lost for a reply, though maybe he was just being diplomatic.
‘But you’re right,’ Prabir admitted. ‘Madhusree didn’t need
role models
. By the time we left Amita, I understood that. And I finally stopped worrying about all the ideology Amita would have tried
to foist on me if she’d ever found out that I was gay. I started thinking about what it meant for me, instead of what
it meant for everyone else.’ He stopped abruptly, his courage waning; he’d already made enough of a fool of himself.
But Felix squeezed his shoulder and said, ‘I’m listening. Go on.’
Prabir kept his eyes on the floor. ‘I thought:
maybe I should be glad
. Evolution is senseless: the great dumb machine, grinding out microscopic improvements one end, spitting out a few billion
corpses from the other. If I’d dragged just one good thing clear of it – if I’d found a way to be happy that cheated the machine
– then that was a kind of victory. Like dragging Madhusree clear of the war.’ He looked up and asked hopefully, ‘Does that
make any sense to you?’
‘It makes a lot of sense.’
‘But you don’t believe it’s true, do you? You don’t believe I’ve cheated the machine.’
Felix hesitated, then made an exasperated noise, as if he’d been trapped into a choice between arguing with him or humouring
him.
He said, ‘I don’t believe it matters.’
Prabir was suddenly sick of talking. He’d bared his soul, and it had brought them no closer. He took Felix by the shoulders
and drew him down on to the bed.
‘Ah, that’s what I like: less theory, more practice.’ Felix kissed him deeply, then ran a hand down the centre of his body.
‘You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
Prabir said, ‘I’ll race you to the edge of the lake.’
‘I have a favour to ask you.’
Madhusree was washing the breakfast dishes; Prabir was drying. Felix had left, but they’d arranged to meet in the evening.
Winter sunlight filled the kitchen, revealing every speck of dust and every imperfection on the room’s worn surfaces. Prabir
felt utterly contented. He had no problems in his life, just invented complications.
They were safe, they were happy. What more did he want?
He said, ‘Go ahead.’
‘I need some money.’
‘Sure. How much?’
Madhusree grimaced, bracing herself. ‘Five thousand dollars.’
‘Five
thousand?’
Prabir laughed. ‘What are you planning to do? Start a business?’
Madhusree shook her head apologetically. ‘I know, it’s a lot to ask.’ She added, deadpan, ‘That’s why I was so glad when Felix
showed up last night. I’ve been waiting all week to catch you in a good mood.’
Prabir flicked her on the arm with the tea towel. ‘Don’t be impertinent. And it makes no difference. I’m always in a good
mood.’
‘Ha.’
‘So what’s the money for?’
‘I should be able to pay you back within a couple of years. Once I’ve graduated—’
Prabir groaned. ‘You don’t have to
pay me back
. Just tell me what you want it for.’ He scrutinised her face; she stared back at him with exaggerated nonchalance, but she
couldn’t quite pull it off. She was actually nervous.
He was worried now. ‘If you’re in some kind of trouble, just tell me. I’m not going to be angry.’
Madhusree said, ‘I’ve been invited to go on a field trip. A joint expedition being mounted by several universities. It’s twenty-one
people, mostly postdocs, but they’re taking two undergraduates. Only the funding doesn’t really cover us, so we have to pay
our own way.’
‘But … that’s fantastic!’ Prabir’s anxiety gave way to relief, then pride. ‘Just two places for undergraduates, and they offered
you one?’ He put down the plate he was drying and embraced her tightly, lifting her off the floor. ‘Of course you can have
the money, you idiot! What did you think I’d say?’
When he drew away from her, Madhusree was blushing. Prabir berated himself silently; he hadn’t meant to go overboard and embarrass
her.
‘So where’s the expedition going?’ he asked. ‘Not the Amazon, I hope. Apparently they’re so sick of naturalists there that
they shoot them on sight.’
‘Not the Amazon. The South Moluccas.’
Prabir said, ‘That’s not funny.’ Neither was getting murdered in Brazil, actually, but he felt as if she’d responded to a
playful jab by kicking him in the head.
‘It’s not meant to be.’ She met his gaze; she was more nervous than ever, but she wasn’t lying, or teasing him. ‘That’s where
we’re going.’
‘Why?’ Prabir folded his arms awkwardly; he suddenly felt ungainly, his body strangely skewed. ‘Why there?’
‘Don’t get upset.’
‘I’m not upset. I just want to know.’
Madhusree led him to her room and picked up her notepad. ‘This screen’s too small. I’ll show you on the TV.’ They sat on the
couch and she summoned up a succession of images from news reports and scientific papers.
The first discovery to attract the attention of the world’s biologists had been a fruit pigeon with strange coloration, a
hitherto unseen mottled camouflage of green and brown. MRI scans and DNA analysis had yielded more radical differences; Prabir
listened in a dreamlike state as Madhusree described structural anomalies in the bird’s internal organs, and a catalogue of
useful mutations in key blood proteins. The Javanese zoologist who’d brought the specimen to light six months ago had only
traced it as far as a bird dealer in Ambon, but after word had spread that anything unusual would fetch good money, two other
genuine cases had emerged from a torrent of fakes and minor novelties. There was a dead tree frog with young that had apparently
been maturing in a water-filled pouch. And there was a bat with the bones in its wings
rearranged in an efficient, albeit unspectacular, fashion – thanks to a fully functioning gene for a protein controlling embryological
development that did not exist in any other species on the planet. Both had been found on the island of Ceram, more than three
hundred kilometres north of Teranesia.
Madhusree had to fight to contain her enthusiasm. ‘These are amazing discoveries – just like the butterflies, but who knows
how many species are involved now? And there
is no
explanation. There’s no way of making sense of this. Whatever the cause turns out to be, it’s going to shake up biology like
nothing since Wallace.’ Madhusree would have none of this Darwin nonsense; Alfred Wallace might have been too much of a doormat
to take the credit he was due, but that wasn’t going to stop her putting the record straight.
Prabir was numb. ‘You didn’t tell anyone? About the butterflies?’ The reports made no mention of any earlier find; apparently
neither his parents’ academic colleagues in Calcutta, nor their sponsor at Silk Rainbow had felt inclined to volunteer anecdotal
evidence about their unpublished work.
Madhusree said, ‘I probably should have, but I was afraid they’d suspect I was making it up just to get in on the act.’ She
smiled proudly. ‘But I’m on the team by merit alone. I even said “no” on the questionnaire when they asked about “jungle experience”.’
She mused, ‘Maybe the best thing would be for me to keep my mouth shut, and let the expedition stumble on the evidence. I
mean, the huts should still be standing, and most of the equipment should be recognisable. There might even be some records
intact.’
Prabir regarded her stonily. She took his hand and said, ‘Don’t you think they’d be glad if one of us went back? Now that
it’s safe?’ Prabir felt a chill at the base of his spine: whether by choice or out of habit, she’d slipped into the hushed
voice she’d used when they’d talked about their parents in his room at Amita’s.
He said, ‘It’s not safe. Why do you think it’s safe?’
Madhusree examined his face. ‘Because the war’s been over for almost eighteen years.’
Prabir pulled his hand free, irritated. ‘Yeah, and there are lunatics in government in West Papua—’
‘I’m not going to West Papua—’
‘Who want to claim half the islands—’
‘That’s
nowhere near
where we’re going!’
Prabir’s head was beginning to pound. If this wasn’t a dream, it was some kind of test. He’d brought her to safety, and now
she was standing on the edge of the cliffs, babbling childish nonsense about diving back into the water.
He said, ‘There are still mines on those islands. Do you think someone’s gone through and de-mined them all?’
Madhusree rummaged through files, then waved her notepad at the TV. ‘You strap this device to your belt. If there’s any chemical
explosive within twenty metres, it tells you.’
The gadget was about as big as a matchbox. Prabir said, ‘I don’t believe you. Buried explosives?
How?
You know the Indonesians had NQR-aware mines? If you send out a radio pulse, they’ll triangulate your position and give you
a gut full of shrapnel.’
‘It doesn’t use Nuclear Quadrupole Resonance; it’s entirely passive. There’s a radiation signature from the explosive: secondary
particles emitted from the constituent atoms due to background and cosmic radiation.’
‘And …
that thing’s
sensitive enough to identify chemical composition from secondary radiation?’
Madhusree nodded earnestly.
Prabir stared at the screen, feeling like a doddering centenarian who’d blinked and missed a decade. ‘I’ve been in banking
too long.’
‘Isn’t that a tautology?’
Prabir laughed, and felt something tearing inside. He could give in; it would be easy. He could shout, ‘Go! Go!’ and dance
around the room with her, playing proud supportive big brother. Then she’d fly off to salvage her parents’ reputation and
complete their work, like a fairy-tale princess returning from exile to right all wrongs and avenge all injustices.
He said, ‘I can’t afford it.’
‘I’m sorry?’
He turned to her. ‘Five thousand dollars? I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even have that much in my account. And
without collateral …’ He raised his hands apologetically.
Madhusree bit her lip and eyed him with frank disbelief, but Prabir was almost certain that she wouldn’t call his bluff. She
might have argued all weekend about the risks the expedition would face, but she wouldn’t make a scene over money.
She said, ‘OK. I knew it was a lot. I’ll have to see about raising it some other way.’
‘Some other way? How long do you have?’
‘Two months.’
Prabir frowned sympathetically. ‘So what were you thinking of doing?’
Madhusree shrugged and said casually, ‘I’ve got some ideas. Don’t worry about it.’ She stood and left the room abruptly.
Prabir put his face in his hands. He hated lying to her, but he was certain now that he’d made the right decision. Even if
there really was some revolutionary discovery waiting to be made on the island – and not just a very unpleasant mutagen that
left a vast number of stillborn victims rotting in the jungle for every spectacular survivor – she could read about it like
everyone else.
That would make her angry. But it wouldn’t kill her.
‘Are you sure it’s all right for me to be here?’ Felix’s work room looked like a biology lab in which an eclectic art thief
had stashed a few million dollars’ worth of stolen goods. Prabir didn’t recognise any of the paintings awaiting assessment,
hanging in a rack like posters in a shop, but the richness of the pigments and the skill of the execution was enough to make
him nervous just being near them. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Felix was glued to a microscope, manually removing the last flakes of corrosion from an arrowhead after
electrochemical treatment. ‘We have visitors back here all the time. You can’t steal anything; the building’s too smart. Try
swallowing one of those coins and see how far you get.’
‘No, it’s the frog collection that’s starting to look tempting.’
Felix groaned. ‘I know, the booking’s for nine. I won’t be much longer.’
Prabir watched him working, envious and admiring. Anything involving fine visual detail was tricky for Felix, but with stationary
objects he could build up a mental picture with higher resolution than the electrode sheet provided at any given moment, accumulating
extra data as his eyes swept back and forth across the scene. Apparently the process had become partly instinctive, but it
still required a certain amount of sheer doggedness, a constant mental effort to maintain the model in his head.