September, 1982 — Surrey, Engnd

  “He’ll be here soon,” Ed Martell said to his small research group. “Remember, he’s just another student. Another member of our research team. Nothing more. That’s the way you have to treat him.”

  “But that’s just it,” Delphine said in her lyric Parisian accent, “he’s not just another student. He’s not just another anything. That’s why he’s here. That’s why we’re all here.”

  Alex was nodding his head as he spoke, his Cardiff accent in stark contrast to Delphine’s. “He’s also our research project. He knows that, doesn’t he? You told him?”

  Dr. Martell nodded. “I told him. It’s not like I could keep it from him. Not if he wanted to know.”

  “And we’re supposed to be OK with that? Having someone here who can hear our thoughts? Working closely with him every day?” Edith asked in her refined London tones.

  “The six of us practically live together,” Carlos added. “I don’t like it. We’re pying with fire.”

  Hank and Carol hadn’t added anything to the conversation, neither yea nor nay. That fact didn’t go unnoticed.

  Carlos looked directly at Hank. They were both actively vying for Edith’s affections. Edith was well aware of this. She liked both men, but it didn’t go much farther than that.

  Both were attractive, though in different ways. Hank was more physical, Carlos more refined. Hank had that quiet New Zeander way—never blunt, but always honest, like he was letting you in without making a big deal of it. Carlos spoke like he felt everything twice as much as everyone else, his words stitched together with a kind of raw, unfiltered poetry. Hank was pale in both skin and hair while Carlos was dark. Both had their charms. Both were putty in Edith’s hands.

  She didn’t think she was stringing them along. The attention they paid her was freely given. Of course, they expected something in return. In Hank’s case, quite a bit of something. A very particur something. Carlos was too much the high-bred gentleman to admit it, but Edith was sure his expectations were simir. They were both delightful companions for a drink, or dinner, or a film. So was Carol on those occasions that the four of them chose to spend so much of their downtime together.

  Carol was madly in love with Carlos. And since Carol was her best friend she didn’t want to hurt her by showing too much interest in the Catan postdoctoral researcher. But she didn’t want his interest to wane completely. Otherwise, Hank would get too comfortable, too forward. And that would only end in heartbreak. She hated mixing business and pleasure.

  She was happy that at the moment both men had something on their minds besides her. But she was unhappy about the topic of discussion.

  It would not be fair to say that she despised Americans. Carol was from the States, and they were best friends. But the male of the species, for him Edith had a categorical dislike. Every one of them she’d met had been egotistical, entitled, opinionated, in many cases provincial. They all seemed to think that the words I’m an American were some form of carte bnche. She wasn’t looking forward to having one of them in her group, special abilities or no.

  “Are you going to just stand there like a dead tree?” Carlos demanded of Hank. ”Digues alguna cosa, per l’amor de Déu. Do you even care what’s going on here?” Say something, for Christ’s sake.

  It was an indication of how upset he was that Carlos mixed his nguages. He did that when he was upset, or excited. When the two of them were out for drinks and he started doing it she knew it was time to turn the temperature down.

  “What is going on here?” Ed Martell interrupted impatiently. “We talked about this for six months. I’ve been pnning it for two years. Each of you was recruited for this project because of your unique areas of study. It’s a little te for cold feet.”

  “It’s not cold feet,” Carol finally spoke, her Boston accent coloring the word not. “It’s normal apprehension. Battlefield nerves. We’re on the verge of going over the top.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” Alex asked as he scanned the faces of his colleagues.

  Hank looked at Edith. Maybe he was just being stupid. But the st thing he wanted was another man in their group trying to steal Edith away from him. Carlos was bad enough. He felt that he was finally getting somewhere with her. That this week might be the week. He’d spent four pounds on a new cologne.

  Maybe it won’t be that bad, he thought. Maybe he’ll be ugly, or have bad breath. At least he’s an American. She can’t stand Americans. Thank God he’s not another Kiwi like me.

  Carlos hadn’t taken his eyes off Hank. He’d have to say something. Not the truth, but something. Something to keep Carlos distracted, and win points with Edith.

  “We’re all here for the same reason. Let’s focus on that.”

  Edith looked at him and smiled. “Well said.”

  Hank’s heart melted in his chest.

  “Indeed,” Dr. Martell agreed. “As for everything else, you needn’t be concerned. Aric and I had a thorough conversation about personal boundaries, and I can assure you he’s made significant progress over the past two years. There have been no recent episodes of cognitive leakage. No more mass auditory phenomena. No anomalous spontaneous remissions at medical facilities. No unexpined nocturnal luminosity—and no further eyewitness reports describing a human figure at the center of such events. By all indications, he’s in full control of his faculties now.”

  It had been one of the news items that had gotten Ed Martell’s attention. Large groups of people reporting that they were hearing music —the same music— all at the same time. Not just music. Fragrances. A sensation that the air was humming. Total sensory overload in some cases.

  In other cases people reported old madies disappearing, newer injuries healing. The reports followed a wandering path that had Aric Aamut?hti at its end.

  “Well,” Delphine said, “c’est quelque chose, je suppose.” that’s something, I guess.

  Edith Hoyles was searching for a book in the University of Surrey library, but the object of her search did not want to be found. As a result she did not hear the man approach until he spoke.

  “Hi. Are you Edith?” an American voice asked.

  Her initial irritated gnce at the man quickly turned into a long stunned stare.

  Sweet Jesus, what pantheon did you drop from?

  That was her brain’s first contribution, anyway. The rest of her was still catching up—her lungs forgot how to breathe, her knees debated whether standing was still possible, and somewhere far in the background, she remembered she was supposed to say hello.

  He smiled like someone accustomed to being stared at, but reflexively crossed his arms—just for a second—before slipping his hands into his back pockets.

  “Edith Hoyles?” he asked again.

  The power of speech finally returned to her, at least partly. “Yes. Sorry. That’s me. Edith. Edith Hoyles. Hello.”

  God, you sound like a twit. Wake up, stupid girl.

  Edith’s heart spiked as the man fshed a brilliant smile. He wasn’t just handsome. He was otherworldly. Like someone had sketched him from memory after a dream about demigods and warriors and stitched it all together in human form.

  “Dr. Martell said I might find you here. I’m Aric. I’ll be joining your research project.”

  Oh, my GOD! This is our research project? This is the man we will be working next to—studying—for THREE YEARS?

  He was a head taller than her, and had dark hair and steel gray eyes. His hair was a bit shorter than was currently fashionable in Engnd. He wore a simple gray t-shirt and faded American blue jeans, underneath which she could clearly see his sculpted outline.

  When he spoke again she realized that she’d been staring at him for several seconds.

  “Are you OK? You look a little red.”

  “Sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m fine. Me, I mean. I’m Edith. Did I already say that? Welcome! Welcome to the team... Did you stop by the b? Of course, you did. Dr. Martell told you I’d be here.”

  Shut up, for the love of GOD will you?! What must he think?

  “He did. He showed me your group photo from st month. That’s how I recognized you. I met some of the others.”

  His gaze made Edith conscious of the fact that she’d woken te and neglected to shower. Or use deodorant. She brushed her teeth, at least, and picked clean clothes before rushing out the door.

  In many ways she and Aric were dressed alike —casual, comfortable, ordinary. So why did she feel underdressed as she stood in this rge building filled with musty old books talking to this stunningly attractive man?

  “God, I hate that picture,” She answered, almost on autopilot. “I look hideous.”

  “I think you look beautiful in that photo. Radiant. You all seem very happy. I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

  The words settled into her chest like heat slipping into a warm bath.

  He just called me beautiful. He just called. Me. BEAUTIFUL.

  Did he mean it? God, he sounded like he did.

  She stood motionless, still gazing at the apparition before her.

  Do I pinch myself now?

  Why the hell would I do that?

  If it be thus to dream... still let me sleep.

  Her brain finally began to re-engage.

  “We take a team photo every summer. Next year’s will have you in it. Dr. Martell has copies made for everyone in his group. He’s got twenty years of them on his walls at home.”

  “I remember seeing them when I visited him.” Aric smiled gently. “But back to my mission—Dr. Martell asked that his team assemble for a short meeting in Schuster Lab.”

  “Oh. Yes. He likes to get everyone together when a new team member joins us. To introduce everyone.”

  She gnced once more at the empty space on the shelf. “Maybe when we get back that silly textbook will have reappeared.”

  “When we get back?”

  “Me! I—when I get back. Here. To the library.”

  Aric smiled as her face turned red again, but he said nothing.

  What an imbecile he must think me.

  They walked side by side across the quad, retracing the route each had taken earlier. They talked about the campus. She ughed at anything that remotely sounded like a joke as soon as it left his mouth. She smiled at him and he smiled back. Edith tried not to notice the gnces Aric was receiving—that both of them were receiving. Her status seemed to elevate just by walking with him. Several women nodded approvingly at her as they passed.

  She tried to remember if she’d even brushed her hair this morning.

  When they stepped into the boratory, the first thing to greet them was Dr. Martell’s smile.

  The second was the dagger-like stares from Carlos and Hank and the broad smile on Carol’s glowing face.

  “Good,” Dr. Martell said, still smiling. “We’re all here. Let’s get started.”

  October, 1982 — Surrey, Engnd

  The two women looked almost nothing alike. Barely an inch separated them in height—that was the closest thing they could call a common trait.

  Carol Lombardi was the taller of the pair, and heavier by nearly three stone. Years of training had left her lean and powerful: wide shoulders, narrow hips, and limbs etched with definition. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes completed the impression. Whether on the rugby field or off, people saw the same thing: poise fused with power—a presence that announced itself without needing to speak.

  Edith Hoyles, by contrast, was slender, with softer features and a high forehead. Her brows were delicately arched, her eyes a thoughtful brown—always shifting between vulnerability and quiet strength. Her complexion was fair, where Carol’s was sun-kissed. Edith moved with measured restraint, her intelligence evident in the economy of her gestures. Carol moved like a tiger on the verge of pouncing.

  Both women wore their unconventional beauty like an afterthought.

  They walked back to Schuster Lab under a bright afternoon sun. The clouds—and the chilly weather that came with them—had finally fled Surrey, and both women unzipped their jackets to enjoy the change.

  “He’s not like any other American man I’ve met,” Edith was saying as they continued their discussion of their new test subject.

  “He’s not like any man I’ve met, full stop,” Carol said.

  She had four brothers, and together with her father, they’d formed her blueprint for masculinity: loud, physical, competitive. Most of the boys brave enough to ask her out had fit that mold too—same swagger, same energy. A bit clumsy. Lumbering through the house or school hallways.

  And maybe that was the problem. She’d never really been drawn to that kind of guy—not deeply, not meaningfully. Which had to mean something was wrong with her, right? Shouldn’t she want someone who could pick her up and toss her over a shoulder like her brothers used to?

  She’d been attracted before, back in school—to guys like Carlos. Elegant. Erudite. Refined. But they’d never looked back at her the same way. Or if they had, they’d kept it to themselves. Eventually, she began to wonder if her wires were crossed—if men, at some fundamental level, just didn’t make sense to her.

  But then came Aric.

  In thirty days, he’d begun to shift her entire perspective on the heterogametic sex. Like she’d found the missing element to an equation she’d been puzzling over. The pattern changed when filtered through him—and told a different story.

  Objectively, he was probably the most beautiful man she’d ever met—or even seen. The first time she id eyes on him, she’d heard a buzzing in her head. It was distracting.

  The buzzing was gone now. She’d gotten used to his face, and the rest of him—neither of which remotely resembled her brothers.

  He was as tall as any of them, but not loud. Muscur, but without the extra padding her fratelli wore. He reminded her of Carlos, even though they looked nothing alike. It was how they moved through the world—quiet, deliberate. With grace and dignity, even when they weren’t trying.

  He paid attention. He looked at her like she mattered when she shared an idea. He listened when she spoke, and took time to consider her words before answering. Like he did with everyone.

  She was used to being invisible whenever Delphine was in the room. But not with him.

  With him, she mattered. As much as anyone. He treated them all that way—even Hank, who made no effort to hide how much he’d prefer Aric be somewhere else.

  And it was that, more than anything, that shifted something in her.

  He didn’t fsh his strength. He didn’t coat himself in bravado. He was—God help him—vulnerable. And still he stood. Still he moved forward. Still he carried the weight.

  If someone like that could be vulnerable... maybe she could too.

  Maybe that was the real gift he’d given her. Not awe. Not wonder. Not even his powers.

  But permission.

  To feel. To lower her guard. To stop pretending she didn’t care when she did. To stop leading with squared shoulders and a clenched jaw—and let her heart step forward first.

  Edith had also begun to form her own opinion of Aric.

  Carol seemed immune to him, as far as Edith could tell. Not to his looks—that was asking too much of any heterosexual female. From all facts entered into evidence, both on campus and off, she was right. Edith didn’t think Carol’s feelings for Carlos were the reason—not the whole one, anyway. She just hadn’t felt the immediate pull that Edith and Delphine had experienced upon meeting him. That strange, almost gravitational attraction that drew the two of them closer, while Carol remained in a more distant orbit.

  Carol liked him. They all did. What wasn’t to like? He was gorgeous, funny, a bit shy perhaps. He tried to blend in with his surroundings, like a chameleon hiding from a predator. Edith and Delphine had noticed it immediately and made it their mission to make him feel welcome—and safe. But Carol hadn’t felt the same protective urgency. That draw. That spark.

  Edith and Carol had bonded quickly. Not because they were simir, but because they weren’t. Carol was physical, Edith cerebral. Both were smart—but Carol didn’t seem hobbled by her intelligence.

  Boys don’t like girls who are too smart.

  She’d heard that most of her life. Ever since she was old enough—and bold enough—to raise her hand in css when she knew the answer. Which was often. Almost always. Keep your mouth shut. Be pretty. That was the rule.

  She wasn’t pretty—not by Delphine’s celestial standard. But in terms of smarts, she could hold her own with anyone.

  She took after her father, who—despite never finishing secondary school—was one of the smartest people she’d ever known. She’d spent hours sitting beside him in his workshop, watching him tinker, peppering him with questions, breathing in the warm smell of sawdust and aftershave. When she began taking things apart herself—things the family actually needed, like clocks or the telephone—it was her father who would patiently sit beside her, smiling as he helped her put them back together again.

  Her mother’s contribution, after a certain point, was to throw up her hands and sigh. “You’re your father’s daughter,” she’d say. “No point denying it.”

  From her father, Edith learned other things too: how to grow a thick skin against what he called the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune—the barbs and dismissals hurled at girls who didn’t know their pce in a world that had no idea what to do with a young woman who had too many answers.

  “Don’t hide your light under a bushel.” He read anything he could get his hands on. But it was Shakespeare and the Bible—and Tennyson—that he quoted most.

  So she grew a thick skin, and picked her friends from the small group of boys and girls who were not intimidated by intelligence. As she got older, and more mature ideas began to enter her head, it was those boys that she began to find attractive. The ones who could stand their ground against her, whatever they were discussing, or what points they were arguing.

  ’Tis better to have loved and lost...

  She was still on the fence about that one. Her father—her rock—hadn’t been strong enough to sit and watch her cry over her first broken heart. She’d found him ter in his workshop, crying quietly, his own heart breaking for her. It had been her mother, in that moment and the one that followed a few years ter, who’d comforted her.

  “You can’t know the height of joy,” she said gently, “without also learning the depth of passion.”

  Edith’s little sister had stood nearby during that speech, clutching a stuffed giraffe, not understanding why her big sister was crying like the world was ending.

  Edith had long accepted that her need to understand how things work—objects, people, the world—was coded into her DNA. And she’d learned, eventually, how that could kill a retionship. Trying to analyze the person you were falling for instead of just... knowing them. Letting them be. Loving them as they were.

  Whatever she was feeling for Aric—and those feelings were growing, shifting—he was still a mystery. Like an old clock or a rotary phone. Something in her needed to figure him out. It was the very reason she’d joined Martell’s project in the first pce. A mystery above all mysteries.

  Is he human?

  Or is he something else?

  Homosuperior?

  What is humanity, really? Is it broad enough—generous enough—to include Aric and others like him?

  None of those questions had any answers yet.

  They walked stride for stride, Carol’s sculpted legs and Edith’s slender ones keeping time together.

  “I know it’s only been a month. How much can you know about someone in a month? Right? But he’s different. I can see it. I feel it.”

  Carol smirked. “You’re preaching to the choir, reverend. We all know he’s different. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. None of us would.”

  Edith grinned as she bumped Carol’s rock hard shoulder with her own softer version. “It should be you sticking up for him instead of me. He grew up how far away from you? Forty miles?”

  Carol ughed. “You think that makes a difference? Where we grew up? When he can do the things he can do? It’s like saying the ant hill in my nonna’s backyard and I are reted because we shared real estate. Besides, he’s in your backyard now. So maybe it should be you sticking up for him.”

  They’d started small with him. Slow. They’d need to calibrate all their instruments in any case. Their first test had saturated every piece of equipment that had been running.

  “Whoa. WHOA. WHOA!” Hank shouted as the signal processing controller became a bank of blinking red lights. He lunged for the power switch and shut it down before the machine could fry itself.

  “Sorry,” Aric had said softly as he drifted back to Earth, and after a period of stunned silence that was followed by a longer period of riotous ughter.

  “OK,” Ed Martell said with a wide grin, “We’ll move self levitation to the advanced testing group. Try just bringing the cricket ball to you.”

  The small leather covered ball lept from the table at the far end of the room and flew directly into Aric’s hand, passing within a few inches of Alex’s head.

  “Jesus!” he shouted, his instinctual motion to duck coming a bit too te if it had proved necessary.

  “Sorry,” Aric said again, which was rewarded with more ughter. Alex stood up and walked out of the b, which caused the ughter to die down, only to return again two fold when he reappeared wearing his motorcycle helmet.

  Edith smiled at the memory.

  She felt safe talking to Carol about Aric. She knew on which altar her friend’s heart was id. Aric’s arrival hadn’t changed that. For that Edith was grateful.

  She might be safe discussing him with Alex. He was the sole loner in their group. At least he had been until Aric showed up. They were both loners, but for different reasons, in different ways. He might be a valuable reference—another baseline calibration to measure Aric against. Alex understood what drove someone to remain apart. He might have useful insight.

  Hank and Carlos were non starters where the topic of Aric was concerned. She didn’t need special powers to see that it was too painful a topic to even hint at.

  Delphine was a different matter entirely.

  Edith saw it every time the Frenchwoman thought no one was watching. The looks. The touches. The way she swayed her hips when she thought she had his attention.

  They were locked in the same orbit around Aric, she and Delphine. An apt description for Delphine, since she was another form of celestial body. Edith felt like an asteroid in that comparison—Delphine the bright star, radiant and visible from great distance. She wasn’t sure if a collision y in their future. She couldn’t see how it was possible, if Aric was like the majority of his sex, where looks trumped everything. But he was different in so many ways, who knew what he valued most? Beauty? Brains? Compassion? Honesty? There were so many moving parts to him, most of which they hadn’t discovered yet.

  “We all own a piece of him now it seems,” Edith said quietly, almost to herself.