"You damn fool," Yanni yelled, and threw the papers at him. And Justin stood there, paralyzed in shock as the sheets of his last personal project settled on the carpet around them. "You damned fool! What are you trying to do? We give you a chance, we do everything we fucking can to get you a chance, I sweat my ass off on my own fucking time working up critiques on this shit you dream up to prove to a hardheaded juvenile-fixated fool that his brilliant junior study project was just that, a fucking junior study project that Ari Emory would have dismissed with a Thanks, kid, but we tried that, if she hadn't been interested in getting her hands on your juvenile body and fucking over your father, son, which you've just done all by yourself, you damned fool! Get this shit out of here! Get yourself back to your office, and you keep that kid out, you hear me?"
It hit him in the gut, and paralyzed him between wanting to kill Yanni and believing for a terrible moment that it was over, that a little girl's spite had ruined him, and Jordan, and Grant.
But then he heard it all the way to the end and realized it was not entirely that, it was not doomsday.
It might as well be.
"What did she say?" he asked. "What did she say about it? The kid brought me a damn jar of fish, Yanni, what am I going to do, throw her out of the office? I tried!"
"Get out of here!"
"What did she say?"
"She asked her uncle Denys to invite you to her fucking birthday party. That's all. That's all. You've got yourself a situation, son. You've got yourself a real situation. Seems she's been coming by the office a lot. Seems she's been dodging Security through the upstairs, seems she's been using her azi's keycard to get up and down the lift, seems she's just real attracted to you, son. What in hell do you think you're doing?"
"Is this a psych? Is that it? Denys asked you to run a psych and see what falls out?"
"Why didn't you report it?"
"Well, hell, I have a few reasons, don't you think?" He got his breath back. He got his balance back and stared at Yanni hard and straight. "It's your security she outflanked. How am I to know Reseune Security can't track a seven-year-old kid? I'm not going to be rude to her. No, thanks. I don't want any part of it. I don't want to be the one to ring up Denys Nye and tell him he's lost track of his ward. You want a kid to get determined about something, you just tell her I'm forbidden territory. No, thanks. Denys said be polite, make nothing of it, avoid her where I can—hell, I started shutting my office when I knew she was due back from tape, what else can I do?"
"You could report it!"
"And get in the middle of it again? Get myself yanked in for another inquisition? I followed orders. I figured you were bugging my office. I figured Security knew where she was. I figured you knew exactly what I said, which was nothing. Nothing, Yanni, except Go home, Ari. Go home, Ari. Go home, Ari. And I got her out. It's a juvenile behavior. She's found an adult to tease. She's being an ordinary brat kid. For God's sake, you make something out of this, you'll fix it, Yanni, does a damned juvenile-fixated fool have to tell you calm down with this kid and just let her pull her little prank? She can read you. She can read the tension you're pouring on her, I know damned well she can, because I have to fight like hell to keep her from reading me in the two or three minutes she comes past and says hello, and you and Denys must be doing real well, the way you're coming through to me. Get off her! Just let the whole thing alone, for God's sake, or what in hell are you trying to do, push her at me till it takes?" A second pause for breath, while Yanni just stood there and stared at him in a way that raised the hair on his neck. "Is that what you're trying to do? Is that what's behind this? Are you helping her do this?"
"You're paranoid."
"Damned right. Damned right, Yanni. What are you trying to do to me?"
"Get out of here! Get the fuck out of here! I got you off. I got you off with Administration. I spent the fucking morning on you, Petros wasted a day covering your ass, and you're damn right this is a psych and you just flunked it, son, you just flunked it! I don't trust you. I don't trust you further than I can see where you are. You walk a tight line, a damned tight line. If she shows up again you get her out of there and you phone Denys before her steps are cool!"
"What about Jordan?"
"Now you want favors."
"What about Jordan?"
"I don't hear anything about them cutting the phone calls. But you're playing with it, son. You're really playing with it. Don't push. Don't push any further."
"What are you putting in that report?"
"That you're not real casual around that kid. That you've got yourself some real hostilities about that kid."
"Not about that kid! About the lousy things you're doing to her, Yanni, about your whole damned program, your whole damned project! You're going to drive her crazy, shooting her full of stuff and jerking everything human away from her, Yanni. You're not a human being any longer!"
"And you've lost your perspective, boy, you've damned well lost your professional perspective! You're feeding your own damn insecurities into the situation. You're interpreting, son, you're not observing, you're not functioning, you've lost your objectivity, and you're off the project, son, you're off the project until you come back here with your head back together. Now get out of here! And don't bother me with these damn play-time projects of yours until you get your problem fixed. Get out!"
"I don't know what I could have said."
He was shaking. He was shaking all over again when Grant came over to the couch and handed him a glass. The ice rattled. He drank a gulp, and Grant settled down beside him with the tablet.
Give it a few days. Yanni explodes. He calms down.
He shook his head. Made a helpless gesture with the glass and rested his eyes against his hand a moment while the whiskey hit his bloodstream and the cold hit his stomach. "Maybe," he said finally, "maybe Yanni's right. Maybe I'm what he said, an assembly-line designer making an ass out of myself."
"That's not so."
"Yanni ripped me to shreds the last two designs. He was right, dammit, the whole thing would have blown up, they'd have had suicides."
Grant grabbed the tablet next to him, and wrote:
Don't give up. And went on writing: Denys said once Ari didn't fake your Aptitudes. You've taken it as an article of faith that she did. You've always thought you belonged in Education. You do. But Ari wanted you in Design. I wonder why.
His gut went queasy when he read that.
Grant wrote: Ari did a hell of a lot to you. But she never refused to look at your work.
"I'm off the project," he said. Because that was no news to Security and their eavesdroppers. "He says I hate the kid. It's not true, Grant. It's not true. It's not true."
Grant gripped his shoulder. "I know it. I know it, they know it, Yanni knows it, it's what he does—he was psyching you. He was getting you on tape."
"He said I flunked, didn't he?"
"For God's sake, that's part of it, that's part of the psych-out, don't you understand it? You know what he was doing. The test wasn't over yet. He wanted a reaction, and you gave it to him."
"I'm still pulling up what I said." He took a second drink, still shaking. "I can remember what I meant. I don't know if I can figure Yanni well enough to know what he heard."
"Yanni's good. Remember that. Remember that."
He tried to. He wrote: The question is, whose side is he on?