Kim Robinson - Sixty Days and Counting

Their swimming tigers were basking in the sun. The male was draped against the tree like a tiger rug, his mouth hanging open. The female lay en couchant, long and sleek, staring sphinxlike into emptiness.

For a long time no one moved. Other people drifted by, passed on to other things.

“I saw the jaguar,” Frank told them. “It was casual at the time, or, I don’t mean casual—I was totally scared and ran away as soon as I could—but I didn’t fully get it, how great it was to see it, until a few days later.”

“Wow,” Nick said. “Did you get a GPS?”

“It was at the overlook.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

After a while longer they went to get snowcones, even though it was just before lunch. Frank got lime; Nick got a mix of root beer, cherry, and banana.

Then Frank took off to go pick up his girlfriend, and the Quiblers went back to the house before continuing out to the farm.

The Khembalis’ party was a big one, combining as it did several celebrations, not just the Shambhala arrival, but also the Buddhist plum-blossom festival, which now would always mark the auspicious day when the Dalai Lama and the Chinese government had agreed on his return to Tibet. The treaty had been signed there in Washington, at the White House, just the day before. And now also it was Frank’s going-away party as well, and even a sort of shower; and last but not least, Phil and Diane were going to drop by for a bit. Their presence added to the crowd, as well as making the party into a kind of wedding reception, because the first couple had made their actual nuptials a completely private affair some days before. Parts of the punditocracy were squawking that this fait accompli was an unholy alliance of science and politics, but Phil had only laughed at this and agreed, adding “What are you gonna do?”

So when they arrived, there was the usual stir. But as soon as they had accepted a toast from all they insisted that the party refocus on the Khembalis, and the return of the Dalai Lama to Tibet, and to what that meant, which was the return to the Tibetan people of some kind of autonomy or, as Phil reminded them briefly, semi-autonomy. “No one person or institution or nation is more than semi-autonomous anyway,” Phil said in his remarks, “so it’s very good, a welcome development that truly dwarfs any personal cause for celebration we might have. Although the personal causes in this case are all quite glorious.”

To which everyone said, “Hear hear.”

Frank and Caroline wandered the compound together, running into people Frank knew and chatting with them over cups of champagne and unidentifiable hors-d’oeuvres. Padma led them through every room in the much-articulated treehouse, and Caroline laughed to see Frank’s face as he contemplated the new upper reaches of the system. He took her out on the old limb to show her where he and Rudra had lived, and then he was given a tour of the farm’s current crops, and the orchard of apple saplings, just recently planted, while Caroline was taken in hand by Qang to meet some of the other Khembali women.

When Frank rejoined her, she was still deep in conversation with Qang, who was answering her questions with a smile.

“Yes,” Qang was saying, “that is probably what they have always stood for. We call them demons, but of course one could also say that they are simply bad ideas.”

“So sometimes, when you do those ceremonies to drive out demons, you could say that in a sense you’re holding a ceremony to drive out bad ideas?”

“Yes, of course. That is just what an exorcism of demons is, to us.”

“I like that,” Caroline said, looking over at Frank. “It makes it kind of explicit, and yet—religious. And it—you say it works?”

“Yes, very often it does. Of course, sometimes you need to do it more than once. We had to exorcise Frank’s friend Charlie twice, for instance, to drive out some bad ideas that had taken root in him. But I believe it worked in the end.”

She turned to Frank to include him in the conversation.

“It sounds like something I could use,” Frank said.

“Oh, no. I think you have never been infected by any bad ideas!”

Qang’s merry look reminded him of Rudra, and he laughed. “I’m not so sure of that!”

Qang said, “You are only infected by good ideas, and you wrestle with them very capably. That’s what Padma says.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It sounds right to me,” Caroline said, slipping an arm under Frank’s. “I, on the other hand, could use a thoroughgoing exorcism. In fact I’d like to order up a full-on reincarnation, or not exactly, but you know. A new life.”

“You can do that,” Qang said, smiling at her. “We all do that. And especially when you have a child.”

“I suppose so.”

Sucandra joined them. “So, Frank,” he said, “now you go back to your old home.”

“Yes, that’s right. Although it will be different now.”

“Of course. The two of you together—very nice. And you will work for the institute you helped to start out there?”

“I’ll work with them, but my job will be back at the university. I’ve been on a leave of absence, so I have to go back.”

“But your research will connect to that of the institute?”

“Exactly. Some of my colleagues there are exploring some new possibilities. There’s an old student of mine who is doing remarkable things. First there was genomics, and now he’s starting what you could call proteomics. It looks like they’ll be starting up a small company of their own. In fact, I’ve been talking to Drepung about the idea of you guys investing in this company. If Khembalung has any kind of investment portfolio, you might want to talk with them. Because if things pan out for them the way I think they might, there’ll be some very important medical treatments to come out of it.”

“Good, good,” Sucandra said, and Qang nodded too. “Qang here heads that committee.”

“Yes,” Qang said, “I will talk to them. If we can make investments that help health, it’s a good thing. But Sucandra is our doctor, so he will have to take a look too.”

Sucandra nodded. “What about you, will you be investing in this new company?”

Frank laughed. “I might if I had anything to invest. Right now all I have is my salary. Which is fine. But we’re buying a house, so there won’t be much extra. But that’s okay. If it works there’ll be enough for everybody.”

“A nice thought.”

Then Drepung joined them. He was wearing his Wizards basketball shirt and his enormous Reeboks, and the cord to his iPod was entangled in his turquoise and coral necklaces.

“What about you, Drepung?” Frank asked. “Will you be moving back to Tibet?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so!” Drepung grinned. “Only room for one lama in Lhasa! Besides, I like it here. And I am obliged to stay in any case. It’s part of the deal with the Chinese, more or less. And besides, this is Khembalung now! And not just the farm, but really the whole D.C. area. So I have work to do here as an ambassador.”

“Good,” Frank said. “They can use you.”

“Thank you, I will give it a good try. What about you, Frank? Won’t you miss this place when you go back to San Diego?”

“Yes, I will. But I need to get back. And people always visit D.C. All kinds of reasons bring you back.”

“So true.”

“Maybe I’ll see you out there too.”

“I hope so. I’ll try to visit.”

Neither man was under any illusion as to how frequently this was likely to happen.

Frank looked around at the crowd. He knew a lot of the people there. If he had stuck to his plan and stayed just a year, and lived that year like a ghost, he would have passed through and gone home without regrets. No one would even have been aware of his passing. But it had not happened that way. It all came down to the people you ran into.