Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

“Yes,” said the bishop. “Even though she would be a second representative of the Church, I did not think you would object. We’ve discussed her once before. She’s expressed a strong interest in joining the team.”

As always, I did not trust his motives. “No, I don’t have any objections. She’ll make a good addition.”

We spent some more time discussing details, including new equipment and supplies we needed. When we cut the communication, Casterman left without a word, and I thought to myself that we were going to have trouble with him.

TWOdays later, Father Veronica and Dr. Sommerwild arrived. Frip and Cardenas helped them out of their pressure suits, and then we had a round of introductions. I stayed in the rear corner of the main cabin, watching and waiting. Dr. Sommerwild came over to me and we shook hands. She was a small woman, with graying hair and skin that was beginning to wrinkle. I was surprised that the Executive Committee would have chosen someone of that age, but her handshake was strong, and her movements indicated she was in good shape, and comfortable in zero gravity.

“Do you remember me, Bartolomeo?” Her voice was gravelly, yet somehow comforting, and it did sound familiar. But I couldn’t place it, or her face.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Should I?”

She shrugged. “If you don’t, you’d make a good demonstration for the concept of repression.” She smiled then, and with that smile the years came away and the memories washed over me. I couldn’t muster a response; I felt a little shaky.

“Dr. G.?”

She nodded, still smiling. “That’s me.”

“I’d always assumed the G was the first letter of your last name. Wrong all that time. What is it… Glenna?”

“Glienna. Now you know my big secret.” Her smile slowly gave way to a more thoughtful expression. “It has been many years, Bartolomeo.”

Oh yes, a lot of years. When I was ten or eleven, someone in authority, perhaps even one of my invisible, unnamed parents, decided I might not be psychologically healthy, and that I could benefit from some counseling or therapy. Of course I wasn’t psychologically healthy. I’d been born a freak, abandoned by my parents, raised by committee, taunted and harassed by other children, and shunned by adults. I’ve never been psychologically healthy, and I never will be. I feel a sense of accomplishment because I have managed to achieve a certain level of functionality.

Someone thought Dr. G. could help me. It’s very possible that she did. We met once or twice a week for almost a year; usually for an hour or so, other times for an entire morning or afternoon, wandering through different parts of the ship, talking part of the time, but often not talking at all. Sometimes I looked forward to our meetings with so much anticipation I couldn’t sleep; but just as often I felt only dread. Who knows? I might have been much worse off than I am today if not for her.

“For years,” she said, interrupting my thoughts, “I couldn’t decide whether you were one of my successes, or one of my failures.”

“What did you finally decide?” I asked her.

“That you were neither.” She paused. “Over time I have come to understand that I have much less impact on my patients than I’d once believed. Oh, I can help, provide some guidance for those who truly want to be helped, for those who have some understanding of their difficulties and are ready, who are trying to change. For those people, who would probably find their own way eventually, I might be able to speed up the process, make it a bit easier. But if the patient doesn’t want to get better, to change in some way, I can’t do a thing for them. Nothing.” She paused again. “It seems so simple, and so obvious in some ways, but when you are trained intensely for this work, you end up with an inflated sense of your own importance, your effectiveness. You, Bartolomeo, were going to be what you are, with or without me. And look what you’ve achieved: adviser to the captain of the Argonos , and now leader of an expedition exploring an alien starship.”

“You forget ‘despised by thousands,’” I said.

She tipped her head slightly to one side. “I have heard rumors to the effect that that’s changing.”

“Only rumors,” I said.

She hesitated, looking directly at me, then said, “I suspect not.”

Father Veronica joined us then. She took my hand in hers. “Hello, Bartolomeo.”

“Father.” I felt suddenly awkward.

“I’m here after all,” she said.

“I’m going to go settle in,” Dr. G. said. “I understand I will have a compartment all of two meters square.”

“Closer to two and half,” I told her.

“Luxury. Well, until later, then.”

She left, and Father Veronica watched her go. Then she turned back to me and said, “Renewing old acquaintances, I see. Glienna said you’d known each other a long time ago.”

I nodded. “When I was a child. Did she tell you how we knew each other?”

“No.”

“I was a patient.”

“I wondered.”

I left it at that. I didn’t feel like going through it all again. “So the bishop changed his mind,” I said.

“I was persuasive. I heard there would be a need for two replacements, and I insisted. After some hesitation, he acquiesced.”

“That worries me.”

“You distrust him that much?”

“Yes. And with good cause.”

She sighed, but whether it was because she thought I was being unfair, or because she thought I was right, I couldn’t tell. But then she smiled gently. “I’m looking forward to this, Bartolomeo. Truly.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Father.”

“Please, Bartolomeo. We’re friends. Call me Veronica.”

“All right,” I said.

“We start tomorrow?” she asked.

“Probably. Or the next day. We’ve got some work to do first.”

“Then I’ll follow Glienna’s example, and settle in.”

I watched her move awkwardly across the main cabin, and realized I didn’t know whether or not I was glad she was here.

Iknew I needed to make changes to the teams; I did not want both new people together, even if it would be with Cardenas. So I started over, and not a single team remained the same. I shifted Pär to a team with Casterman and Maria Vegas, and I assigned Father Veronica to my own along with Leona Frip. I put Dr. G. with Rogers and Cardenas, leaving Hollings, Aiyana, and Youngman for the final team. Pär smirked at me when I announced the new arrangements, but I decided I could live with that.

The next day, we began again.

ATthe end of Father Veronica’s first shift inside the alien starship, which had been more of a “tour” to familiarize her with the ship than a real exploration, I asked her what her impressions were.

“It is such a strange place. I understand now what people mean when they say it seems so alien. I understand how people can be so certain that this ship was not built by or for human beings. And yet, there is also something quite wonderful about it, because it is so different.” She paused. “But I can see how that feeling might change over time, when nothing means anything.”

“Do you still sense that malign quality to the ship?”

“No, not really.”

“What do you sense, then? Anything?”

She nodded. “Indifference.”

OVERthe next several days, our rate of progress increased. We were learning patterns, the way doors and hatches opened, recognizing dead ends before wasting too much time on them. The only negative occurrence was a report from the Argonos. Nikos opened the communication alone one day, and spoke to me in private.