Days 11-16 (Love)

6 Love

``I'll have mine well done, please'' Grant said.

``Me too.'' Rosetta added hurriedly.

The waiter nodded and left with their order, and Rose looked over
at Grant.

``I hate having my steaks cooked that much, and you know it. You
should have asked her.''

``I'm not a fan of eating charcoal either.'' Grant pointed out. ``
Though really, it's my fault for bringing up an E. Coli outbreak
over dinner.''

``I did ask you how your day was.'' Rosetta admitted. ``So I am
partially to blame.'' She smiled. ``When we spoke on the phone,
you assured me that the most exciting thing you dealt with was
teacups. Now I'm wondering if I should have brought a hazmat
suit.''

``Isn't that taking safe sex a bit too far?'' Wynn found himself
saying it before he could think. Rose nearly choked on her water.
``I'm kidding!'' he clarified immediately. ``It's been a decade,
I don't expect to pick our relationship up where it left off.
Frankly, I'm happy you asked me out.''

Rosetta had recovered her composure. ``I always made you ask me
out back then. I kinda felt guilty about it. Wanted to make it up
to you by forcing you to take me out.''

``And pay for it.'' he added.

She nodded. ``It wouldn't be a proper date if I didn't get you to
pay for it.''

He smiled, internally relieved that his faux pas had been passed
over. Of course, if he knew Rose at all, she'd remind him of it
later. Probably when she was convincing him to pay, which he'd
already decided he was going to do anyway.

``So, you own a recycling plant now?'' he said a bit later, after
the silence had gone on a bit.

She nodded, her mouth too full of bread to answer. After eating
it hastily, she added ``For about two years now.''

``Why just computer parts? I mean, most recycling plants are
paper, plastic, that kind of thing.'' A definite upside to his
career choice, as he had discovered in college, was that he was
never at a loss for something to talk about on dates. Interview
techniques worked wonderfully and usually convinced the other
party that he was a good listener, to boot.

She'd taken a sip of water. ``There's a speech I usually give to
investors, about how there's more technological gadgets with
shorter lifespans now than ever before, and the circuits are full
of all these heavy metals that can leach into the ground. Right
when they start dozing off, that's when I point out that these
heavy metals are things like gold and silver and platinum. Wakes
'em right up!'' She laughed. ``One of the things I learned in the
pursuit of my MBA was that niche businesses can be very
successful if they can cater to the right customers, and like I
said, there's more disposable electronics than ever. Plus, I am a
big fan of the whole planet-saving thing.''

``I'm going to be honest with you now.'' Grant began soberly. ``
Because something tells me you're still the kind of person who
appreciates it that way.'' He paused.

``Go ahead.'' she appeared attentive, but was still smiling as
though anticipating a joke.

``I never really thought of you as the environmentalist type.''
he admitted.

Rosetta appeared thoughtful for a moment. ``That was honesty,
wasn't it? Well, I'll admit, I wasn't really. I mean, sure, I
recycled when I remembered to but I didn't really dedicate myself
to it. Two things changed my mind.

``First,'' she continued, ``remember that big tanker wreck about
five or six years ago?''

He nodded. ``Six. My very first story for the Gazette was on the
construction of that kind of tanker, part of a whole series we
did surrounding the incident.''
[(0x0004) Early runs needed to instill in Rosetta a sense of environmentalism in order for work on prerequisite Machines to proceed.]

``That's what cemented it for me. I was already thinking niche
markets, like I said, and here - I thought - here's a place where
I can actually make a difference. I actually could help save the
planet, you know? I mean, I couldn't prevent the next wreck but I
could damn well make sure that kind of mess got properly cleaned
up!'' She smiled, somewhat embarrassed at the force of her reply.

``I can't claim that's what got me into journalism,'' Grant
confessed, ``I mean, you knew me from back when I did the school
paper. But it gave my career a heck of a boost.''

``Disasters will do that.'' Rosetta replied, glaring.

Grant looked uneasy. ``Sorry. If it makes you feel any better,
it's all teacups today.''

Rosetta looked thoughtful, but said nothing for a while. Finally,
she spoke up quietly. ``The second reason - and if you tell me
you reported on this, I swear I will walk out right now - is my
father.'' She took a breath and held it momentarily before
continuing. ``You remember, he worked at the power plant?''

``Mason power, right?'' Grant replied softly, carefully avoiding
saying more than he had to in case whatever he added was the
wrong thing. The Mason Nuclear Power plant had been, for the most
part, a safe and reliable source of power. If you discounted the
outage earlier in the week, of course, and there was the
incident-

``About eight years ago,'' Rosetta spoke as though he hadn't said
anything, ``There was an accident. I'm not sure what went wrong,
some kind of safety that was supposed to be there wasn't, and my
dad was hurt.''

Grant had, in fact, reported on that for the college newspaper.
There hadn't been a list of the injured, however, so he hadn't
known Rose's father had been among them
[(0x0002) Early runs experimented with improving Dr. Caster's
performance in the academic and/or industrial realm by pairing
him with Rosetta Sandys. This proved to be more of a distraction
than a help and ended up revealing the professor's inability to
work with anyone other than himself. It has been preserved,
however, due to its more beneficial side effects in other runs.].
The plant had been shut down for nearly a year after that, but
eventually came back online.

``That was halfway through my undergrad.'' she said. ``I was out
on the east coast when I got the news. I wanted to come home, but
he wouldn't let me, he insisted I stay at school. That's the
first thing that got me started.''

``And that's why you're here now.'' Grant spoke up very quietly
indeed, hoping he wasn't prodding where he shouldn't.

Rosetta merely nodded. ``At first, it looked like he was just
hurt, but radiation... it can take a while. I couldn't very well
be a fancy big-city bigshot while my dad was back home dying.''
She paused, looking down at her place setting. ``I'm sorry if I
was short with you on Sunday when you brought it up.''

Grant was saved from having to reply by the timely arrival of
their food. They ate in silence.

Later that night as he dropped her back off at her recycling
center (``It's where my car is, after all'' she'd said), she
turned to him. He was surprised to see that her confidence seemed
gone, her smile and casual manner vanished. Her face was serious,
her eyes distraught.

``Would you...'' she began, then stopped. She seemed to need time
to gather her composure. She exhaled. ``I'm sorry.'' she began, ``
Ever since I saw you again, I've been kinda railroading you into
following along with me. For all I know you're not even
interested, you're just humoring-''

Grant kissed her.

``Or not.'' she continued. ``I could be mistaken in that.''

``Would you like another date?'' he said. It was the only thing
he could think to say; he definitely wanted to see her again,
after all, and he certainly wasn't capable of subtlety at this
point.

``I would.'' she replied. Her smile had returned, she seemed
enormously relieved.

Grant's phone rang.

``Sorry.'' he said.

``Don't you know you're supposed to turn your phone off when
you're on a date?'' she replied, her playful attitude having
returned fully.

He glanced at the phone and frowned. Patrick Brooks - probably
the same man he'd interviewed the day before - was calling him
for some reason. He pressed the cellphone's ``off'' button.

``What if it's work?'' Rose said in a tone that indicated she
knew full well it was, in fact, work-related.

``Not important.'' he replied sincerely. He leaned in close to
her then and kissed her, this time far more slowly. It was some
amount of time until either of them spoke.

Rosetta was the first to break the silence. ``All things
considered, this was not my worst date ever.''

Grant laughed. ``That bad, huh? I'll be a better talker next
time, I swear.''

``And I'll stop ruining the mood'' she promised. ``Just so long
as there will be a next time, I'll be happy.''

``Same here.''

This time Rose leaned toward him, but before her lips met his,
she stopped. ``I do have to go at some point, you know.'' she
said, her face inches from his.

``Same here'' he replied again. Neither of them made any move
away.

Finally, Rose darted in with a quick kiss, added ``Night!'' and
had bounded out of the car before Grant could even react.

It was late, but Grant was not even remotely tired. His fears
that he'd completely ruined his chances with Rosetta over dinner
had been laid to rest, and it looked like another date was almost
certain. He was in good spirits as he drove home. So good, in
fact, that he decided to check his voicemail at a stoplight.
Normally an interviewee calling him meant a hassle at best, but
he didn't care. Nothing could bring his mood down at this point.

``Hey, Mr. Wynn? This is Patrick, you interviewed me yesterday
about Dr. Caster? I um... well I don't know if this is even
related but I thought I'd mention it.... I did some checking into
the whole payroll story I told you yesterday, and I can't find
the glitch. I mean, our system was buggy and stayed that way, and
now it's gone like the problem was never there to begin with. And
this.... well the payroll story isn't the only story I could tell
you. Vervicom's had a ton of incidents over the years that have
just vanished afterwards, like nothing. Like I said, I don't know
if any of this is something you can use, or if it's even
something your interested in, but if it is, give me a call.''

Grant had believed he was almost certainly dooming himself with
the optimistic thought that nothing could bring down his mood,
but this newest tidbit was almost better. He couldn't help but to
glance at his GPS - manufactured and designed by Vervicom - and
remember its bugginess the previous day. He made a mental note to
call Patrick Brooks back as soon as he possibly could.

First, though, home. And sleep.

---

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Days 11-16 (Disappointment)

For once, he wasn't disappointed. The drive was relatively short,
the traffic at this hour had nearly evaporated, and the day
continued to be bright and clear. Grant wondered if everything
seemed so suddenly alive merely in comparison to the
Disappointment Machine. The damn thing had seemed like a
near-death experience, even in retrospect.

He'd been to this particular hospital before, though not as a
patient, and so when he went to the front desk and showed his
press credentials to the person working there, he already knew
he'd be directed to their public affairs office. In this, he was
also not disappointed - the tired but friendly worker looked over
his papers and pointed him towards room 128.

The nameplate by 128 declared it to be the domain of Ellen
MacKenzie, MBA, Chief of Public Affairs. Grant smiled; when you
job was to go around the city talking to as many different people
as you possibly could, it was nice every now and then to speak to
someone you were at least vaguely familiar with. Ellen had been
his contact here at the hospital since he'd started his job. He
knocked on the door.

It was opened promptly by a woman speaking in hurried tones into
a wireless headset. ``Yes, Dr. Forshee, I assure you, if we see
any more cases we'll get the information about the distributors
to you.'' She glanced up, saw Grant, and waved him into the
office as she retreated back to her desk. ``Thanks again.'' she
added perfunctorily.

Grant sat across from her and looked over her books, out the
window, anywhere to indicate he wasn't listening in on her
conversation. She took her headset off and pressed a button on
the cellphone she had at her hip.

``If you're doing a story about this outbreak,'' she began
seriously, ``you're going to have to come back later. I'm going
to have to get a good night's sleep before I issue any press
releases. If I'm lucky, the USDA will beat me to it.''

``Sounds serious.'' he said noncommittally. This wouldn't have
been the first time he'd gone to interview someone and gotten a
completely different story instead.

Ellen breathed a sigh of relief. ``So this is the first you've
heard of it, good.'' The downside to interviewing someone who was
familiar with you was that they learned to recognize the
statements you used when you had no idea what was going on. ``
There's been a few cases of E. Coli, we suspect there's going to
have to be a recall, and hopefully we won't see anymore and
they're isolated incidents and Dr. Forshee can handle it.'' She
interrupted Grant before he could say anything, ``And yes, if
it's more major I'll keep you in the loop.''

``Thanks.'' was the only reply he could think of. Ellen's mind
worked a mile a minute - from what little he'd seen, it had to -
and it was difficult sometimes for him to keep up. His mind was
always trying to fit things into a story, which was handy when he
was actually working on a story, but not so when he was trying to
simply listen.

``So.'' she said, having regained some measure of composure, ``
What does bring you to my office, then?''

``Ah,'' he replied. He needed to work on his attention span, he
reflected. He got sidetracked too easily. ``I'm doing a story on
people injured during the outage. Your hospital admitted a man
named Dr. James Caster two days ago.''

Ellen nodded and began typing on her computer. ``The name rings a
bell. There were two, maybe three fatalities due to that outage,
I think they were all vehicle related.'' She smiled as the
machine fetched Caster's records. ``Yes, there he is. Severe
trauma from the accident, blood loss, swelling in the brain-''
Grant knew she was purposefully keeping the jargon out of her
summary, and mentally thanked her for it. ``He died early the
next morning.''

``I've been reading the police report,'' among other things, he
added silently, ``and it says he refused treatment?''

MacKenzie had already been paging through the files while Grant
talked. She frowned at the screen. ``He did. All that damage, and
he was still conscious when we got him here. I do remember him
now, one of the on-duty doctors filled me in the next morning.
Caster wanted to see his lawyer, didn't want to be operated on or
anything until the man arrived.''

``His lawyer?'' Grant's notepad and pen had seemingly appeared
out of nowhere as he started writing. ``Did he say why?''

Ellen had paused, thinking about how best to phrase her next
statements. ``If you want the honest truth, Grant? And this is
off-record: I think he knew he wasn't going to make it. He was
probably getting his will set.''

Grant had obligingly stopped writing. ``Do you know if he did?''

She shrugged. ``I have no idea. Once the lawyer left, he gave his
consent to operate and we did what he could. We didn't ask.''

Grant stood up, ``Thanks Ellen, that's all I need.'' He shook her
hand, as he had every time he'd been here, and left. Behind him,
he could hear her start dialing another set of numbers and
speaking into her headset. There had been a time, when he'd first
started this job, when he'd though about asking her on a date.
They had, after all, gotten along fairly well, and he wouldn't,
by a long shot, be the first journalist to transition from
business to the casual. Then he'd realized the kind of hours she
put in at the hospital and the fact that she literally had no
free time. He couldn't compete with her schedule then, he
reflected as he walked away, hearing her voice dwindle, and he
definitely couldn't now. Besides, he had a date tonight.

---

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