Crescent City Rhapsody
Chapter OneFirst SoloThe Radio Astronomer Southwest Virginia 2012Zeb downshifted to take a curve on the two-lane blacktop; the creek had flooded the road, leaving a sheet of ice in the bend. The back wheels of his Ford pickup held steady and after the ice he resumed his previous speed. He had gone into town for a Thanksgiving party and he shouldn't have.He would never be able to socialize happily, but a certain excruciating amount of it always seemed to be called for. At least he didn't go off the deep end anymore; thanks to medication and the hard work of Sally, his older sister and always his champion, his flights of manic intensity had been under control long enough for him to settle into a life of being a professor of astronomy at a rural state university. Not the glittering academic life his parents, dead for many years now, had envisioned for him, pushed him toward; far short of what all indications had been during his adolescence, when all doors were open, when every major university wooed him. The courses he taught didn't begin to scratch the surface of what he knew; he was an astrophysicist. But it was a predictable life; even, generally, a satisfying life. It had been purchased at the cost of closing the floodgates to the infinite. It was enough. If he was deliberate and firm, there was a reason. He lived with a certain amount of satisfaction at just being able to function predictably. Most people took this state of mind for granted. It was a privilege for which he'd had to fight.Nobody else was on the road. It was Wednesday night, and everyone had gone over the river and through the woods and were at Grandma's now. Sally was expecting him for dinner tomorrow inRoanoke, a sixty-mile drive. He was looking forward to swing Annie, his niece. In her second year of college, she was beginning to be able to ask intelligent questions. She was majoring in nanotechnology. Seemed like a real scattershot major to Zeb, but then he tended to keep entirely immersed in what was happening farther than the eye could see. Annie was a bright kid. Zeb only hoped that she would not suffer as he had, that his genetic weirdness would not be echoed in her. Across a snowy field that seemed to glow faintly, an old white farmhouse threw patches of colored light onto the snow through a window -- an early Christmas tree. Behind the fields rose dark ridges, trees blackly sawtoothed against a slightly lighter sky. Zeb cracked his window and lit a Camel. The blast of cold air felt clean and good.The party had been stuffy. Zeb stood out, as usual, felt clumsy and big in his heavy boots and plaid wool shirt. He explained to his hostess when he arrived that he was dressed to go up on Angel's Rest later and check the antenna, but he still felt out of place. He sat gingerly on one of Dr. England's delicate chairs, wishing he could smoke, while she and her husband passed out eggnog. He didn't see anyone else smoking, though. England had urged him to drop by when she saw him in the supermarket this morning; probably felt sorry for him, he thought now. He just hadn't known how to say no. He didn't want to insult her. Parties with mathematicians and physicists were tolerable, because it only took a few minutes to start a heated academic argument, but these people were all with the arts. They were nice, but he heard snippets of conversations around him filled with concerns he knew hewould never be able to fathom. He took a sip of eggnog and looked around, wondering if he could slip into the kitchen and pour it out and wondering how long he had to stay to be polite. He decided it didn't matter. He would just leave. He stood to go.Then Terri had come in the door.She was dressed nicely, as usual, he saw, as Judy England took her coat. A black dress. Pearls.Zeb, she said, seeing him.Stay away from the eggnog. After a long moment, he added, How are you doing?Her eyes were slightly merry at that; a small victory, pulling two whole sentences out of him.Fine she said. Wonderful. Her hair was ashy blond, but he knew that she had it done once a month because a lot of it had turned white when she was thirty. The year she'd married him.You look good.Thanks.Their talk was small, but it always had been. After three years of marriage, she decided she needed more words. Now she was married to a sociologist. Jim was from New York. He talked a lot.Well, I should go. Zeb gulped the eggnog and frowned. It really was wretched.She put one hand on his arm. Take care. Are you still living in that -- old house?He knew shed narrowly avoided calling it a decrepit old shack. He nodded. And do you still spend all your time studying that radio astronomy data? She'd hated that. Apparently, she had thought it some sort of bachelor pursuit that he would outgrow, even though he had been forty when they got married. He didn't spend as much time looking at the stars through telescopes as she had imagined he would; that seemed much more romantic to her. But stars and space had a lot more to say than could be seen in the visible spectrum. Zeb spent his time online, traveling, orteaching. He had no hobbies or outside interests; he didn't watch television and he didn't go to the movies and he didn't read fiction. He still wondered how two such dissimilar people had ever considered marriage. Then she smiled -- just a bit -- and he remembered...