Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

This comment drew murmurs from the nearby tables. Eyes turned on Shaw. Some seemed impressed and pleased for him. But there was jealousy too.

Shaw himself was troubled that he’d drawn attention, the last thing he wanted. He noted Victoria looking his way.

Eli glanced at the picked-over dinner plates. “I hope you’re finding the meals acceptable. Remember, the fulfillment that the Foundation promises is emotional and psychological, not gastronomical.” Drawing gentle laughs. “Good luck with your training. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re going to love what I’ve got in store for you.”

The entourage moved on.

A young redheaded woman nearby called, “Thank you, Master Eli. For everything. I’m so...” Concluding words eluded her.

“It’s Apprentice Andi. Am I right?”

“Yes...” The redhead was breathless. She mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being a part of the Foundation family.”

Shaw whispered to Walter, “He’s memorized everybody’s name.”

“Not exactly,” the older man said. “Gets prompts from his shadow.” A nod toward Steve.

Eli and his entourage left via a side door, and conversation within the dining hall resumed immediately. Many of the Companions seemed to be dissecting what Eli had said and to whom.

Shaw looked toward Victoria. Her head was down, as she jotted notes.

The lights dimmed, simultaneously with the loudspeaker tones outside, then the keeper of the clock’s melodious voice: “The time is eight p.m. Dinner is concluded.”

The Companions rose, bused their own dishes into gray bins and ambled out the doors. Shaw did the same.

The sun was down and a faint iridescent blue glow filled the sky. Bright stars radiated, visible because of the muted lamplights. The air, steeped in pine and wood smoke, was bracing.

Shaw paused just outside the door, looking about, as if to orient himself, though he knew exactly where he was and in what direction his dormitory lay. He was looking for Victoria. His excuse to speak to her would be to apologize for getting her into trouble because of his breaking the rules.

After a few minutes, though, the hall was empty of Companions; only the cleaning crew remained. She hadn’t passed him.

Then Shaw spotted her, walking up the steps to her dorm, across the central grounds from his. How had she gotten there? It had to be via the side door, the one that Eli and those with him had used, even though doing so meant a longer walk. It was almost as though she’d been intentionally avoiding Shaw.

After breakfast the next day, Shaw strolled across the grounds as the brilliant rising sun poured over the landscape.

He’d planned on eating quickly and then approaching Victoria afterward. But he’d arrived late. He’d had to return to his dorm for his notebook; an AU had noticed him barehanded and reminded him of the rule that you kept your notebook with you at all times. “You might,” the man said, “have an insight.” As if speaking of finding a pot of gold.

By the time he was back in the hall, Victoria had left. Only ten minutes? Maybe she’d forgone the steam-table food — understandable — and had picked only juice, coffee or tea.

The tones of “Ode to Joy” filled the camp.

The angelic voice: “The time is nine a.m. All Novices please report to the Square for Master Eli’s First Discourse.”

A command, Shaw noted. The word please didn’t mitigate.

A moment later: “All other Companions who wish to hear Master Eli may attend as well.”

The Square was a fifty-by-hundred-foot clearing in the portion of the camp near Eli’s residence. At the south side was a broad stage, whose backdrop was a purple banner with the words in dark gold: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW, the same as the wrought-iron gate topper. Above the middle word was a large infinity symbol, also gold.

The stage was about thirty feet across and bare except for three armchairs at the far right. Anja sat in one, Steve in another. The chair closer to center stage was higher. A throne.

Shaw looked for Victoria. He couldn’t spot her in the crowd, which numbered maybe eighty or ninety people. Some of the Companions were chatting, some were silent and serious, some had smiles on their faces. In the center were the Novices, Apprentices and Journeymen. On the outskirts were the Inner Circle Companions, about two dozen of them. They were arrayed in fact in a circle.

The entire camp appeared to be here, even though attendance was mandatory only for Novices.

Synthesizer music suddenly filled the air: this time the entire “Ode to Joy” theme from Beethoven’s Ninth, a more rousing and, yes, joyous composition could be found nowhere in the classical repertoire. The ICs began clapping in time to the music, and Shaw realized that the meter was that of the clapping from last night. Everyone, including Shaw, joined in.

For a minute or so the musical notes echoed through the valley, then they ended abruptly — though the clapping did not. The ICs kept it up, encouraging — requiring — the whole assembly to do the same. Finally Master Eli strode onto the stage, arms raised, radiating a smile. Anja and Steve were on their feet too and slapping their palms together like everyone else.

Not all of the ICs were participating, though. Some held tablets and from time to time made notes or took videos of Eli and the crowd.

Voices in the audience would yell “Master Eli!” There were cheers and impassioned cries whose words Shaw couldn’t make out because of the cacophony.

Eli would occasionally point to someone in the audience and smile or give the shoulder salute.

Then to everyone: “Greetings, my dear Companions!”

Some in the audience cried out in response. The Inner Circle began calling, “Greet-ings, greet-ings!” lifting their arms and clapping in that 4/4 meter slap of palms. The ICs would make forays into the crowd to make sure the other Companions kept up the recitation. This rally-esque frenzy set Shaw on edge but he played along and kept a ridiculous smile plastered to his face as he recited the word over and over.

Eventually the clapping and chanting petered out.

“What a gorgeous group you are! Gorgeous!” Eli walked closer to the edge of the stage, which was about six feet high, unnecessarily lofty; though he wasn’t tall, he could easily have been seen from the back of the square if the platform had been half as high.

“Welcome to my Discourse. First one. First time’s always good, right? You’re going to love it. I guarantee you that. All you Novices out there... you’re going to love it.” He looked to several Journeymen near the front of the stage. “Aren’t they going to love it?”

The men and women seemed delighted to have been singled out. They nodded and beamed.

“Sure you are. See? I’m telling you.”

Clapping. Shaw’s hands were already stinging. He’d grow calluses if this kept up. His eyes met John’s, and the man gave a faint smile and flapped his hands, as if they stung. Shaw nodded back.

Walter and Sally approached Shaw. He was surprised when Sally said, “Morning, Novice Carter.” That she’d retained Shaw’s name clearly pleased her husband.

“What’ll this be?” Shaw asked, glancing toward the stage.

Walter said, “Introduction to the Foundation and the Process. Meet the master. It’s for the newbies but, well, if you didn’t guess, Eli likes big audiences. I heard they take note about who doesn’t show up.”

The infamous They .

“It’s not a bad idea to sit through it again, though. The Process can be a little... ungraspable at first. If that’s a word.”

“Ought to be, if it isn’t.”