I am watching some gianormous science talk in a huge hall with 300 colleagues and this girl about five crawls into my lab.
"Hi,"
she says. "I'm Rebecca." Before I know it I've got this girl curled
around my little grey cat who has also shown up entirely out of context,
and the cat is purring and the girl is warm and sleepy and it's like I
have Instant Family in my lap, just add water.
It's
nice. Nicer than I thought. I feel the start of tears and try to focus
on whatever the hell Generic Signaling Pathway, Statistially
Significant Bar Graph, Clever Analogy, Neat Tie In To Medicine that had
my attention before but it's impossible. I'm already imagining
christmases and birthdays, random walks to the park, firsts - first
bike, first day of school, first serious conversation.
Then
my cat leaves and I feel uncomfortable. This child is a stranger and
what if people wonder where I got her from? For that matter, where DID
she come from? I shift the way I do when I want to get a snack and my
cat is seated on my lap. And this girl reacts just the same way,
sliding effortlessly, thoughtlessly from my lap, and wanders off.
Except
she is not a cat. She is a five year old girl. This doesn't hit me
right away which is shameful. Later I think of this as some kind of
karma for what happens next.
I am thirsty. I get up to leave. The hall is packed. My seat is taken instantly, no going
back. There are people standing in every aisle, some still on their
commuter bikes complete with helmet.
I snake my way
through the crowd to a very public water fountain. Dozens of people
idly watch me try to control the powerful jet of water that arcs up from
the fountain and lands fifteen feet away in a hole on the manicured
lawn of the lecture hall. I drink and drink, feeling no relief from my
thirst. Eventually I stop because I am so exposed and wonder
what people are thinking as they watch.
The talk must
be over because people have begun streaming from the many entrances.
Which coincides with the first siren, a long wailing like an air raid. We are in London, and that is in fact exactly what it is.
People stop, puzzled, milling, and actually look up as if to catch a
glimpse of German bombers.
The evident power of cultural
memory makes me smile; to a person every member of this crowd is too
young to have been in a single bona fide air raid.
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