Green Earth. Kim Stanley Robinson

Anyway, you must let us thank you for this. We will have you to dinner.”

      “That would be nice.”

      “And maybe you can join us at the zoo when our tigers arrive. Recently a pair of Bengal tigers were rescued off Khembalung after a flood. The papers in India call them the Swimming Tigers, and they are coming for a stay at the National Zoo here, and we will have a small ceremony when they arrive.”

      “That would be great. The boys would love that. And also—” An idea had occurred to her.

      “Yes?”

      “Maybe also you could come upstairs and visit us here, and give one of our lunchtime lectures. That would be a great way to return a favor. We could learn more about your situation, and, you know, your approach to science, or to life or whatever. Something like that. Do you think Rudra would be interested?”

      “I’m sure he would. It would be a great opportunity.”

      “Well not exactly, it’s just a lunchtime series of talks that Aleesha runs, but I do think it would be interesting. We could use some of your attitude here, I think, and you could talk about these programs too.”

      “I’ll talk to the rimpoche about it.”

      “Okay good. I’ll put Aleesha in touch.”

      After that Anna worked on the stats again, until she saw the time and realized it was her day to visit Nick’s class and help them with math hour. “Ah shit.” Throw together a bag of work stuff, shut down, heft the shoulder bag of chilled milk bottles, and off she went. Down into the Metro, working as she sat, then standing on the crowded Red Line Shady Grove train; out and up and into a taxi, of all things, to get to Nick’s school on time.

      She arrived just a little late, dumped her stuff, and settled down to work with the kids. Nick was in third grade now, but had been put in an advanced math group. In general the class did things in math that Anna found surprising for their age. She liked working with them; there were twenty-eight kids in the class, and Mrs. Wilkins, their teacher, was grateful for the help.

      Anna wandered from group to group, helping with multipart problems that involved multiplication, division, and rounding off. When she came to Nick’s group she sat down on one of the tiny chairs next to him, and they elbowed each other playfully for room at the round low table. He loved it when she came to his class, which she tried to do on a semiregular basis.

      “All right Nick quit that, show the gang here how you’re going to solve this problem.”

      “Okay.” He furrowed his brow in a way she recognized inside the muscles of her own forehead. “Thirty-nine divided by two, that’s … nineteen and a half … round that up to twenty—”

      “No, don’t round off in the middle of the process.”

      “Mom, come on.”

      “Hey, you shouldn’t.”

      “Mom, you’re quibbling again!” Nick exclaimed.

      The group cackled at this old joke.

      “It’s not quibbling,” Anna insisted. “It’s a very important distinction.”

      “What, the difference between nineteen and a half and twenty?”

      “Yes,” over their squeals of laughter, “because you should never round off in the middle of an operation, because then the things you do later will exaggerate the inaccuracy! It’s an important principle!”

      “Mrs. Quibler is a quibbler, Mrs. Quibler is a quibbler!”

      Anna gave in and gave them The Eye, a squinting, one-eyed glare that she had worked up long ago when playing Lady Bracknell in high school. It never failed to crack them up. She growled, “That’s Quibler with one b,” melting them with laughter, as always, until Mrs. Wilkins came over to join the party and quiet it down.

      After school Anna and Nick walked home together. It took about half an hour, and was one of the treasured rituals of their week—the only time they got to spend together, just the two of them. Past the big public pool, past the grocery store, then down their quiet street. It was hot, of course, but bearable in the shade. They talked about whatever came into their heads.

      Then they entered the coolness of their house, and returned to the wilder world of Joe and Charlie. Charlie was bellowing as he cooked in the kitchen, an off-key, wordless aria. Joe was killing dinosaurs in the living room. As they entered he froze, considering how he was going to signify his displeasure at Anna’s treasonous absence for the day. When younger this had been a genuine emotion; sometimes when he saw her come in the door he had simply burst into tears. Now it was calculated, and she was immune.

      He smacked himself in the forehead with a Compsognathus, then collapsed to the rug face-first.

      “Oh come on,” Anna said. “Give me a break Joe.” She started to unbutton her blouse. “You better be nice if you want to nurse.”

      Joe popped right up and ran over to give her a hug.

      “Right,” Anna said. “Blackmail will get you everywhere. Hi hon!” she yelled in at Charlie.

      “Hi babe.” Charlie came out to give her a kiss. For a second all her boys hung on her. Then Joe was latched on, and Charlie and Nick went into the kitchen. From there Charlie shouted out from time to time, but Anna couldn’t yell back without making Joe mad enough to bite her, so she waited until he was done and then walked around the corner into the kitchen.

      “How was your day?” Charlie said.

      “I fixed a data error all day long.”

      “That’s good dear.”

      She gave him a look. “I swore I wasn’t going to do it,” she said darkly, “but I just couldn’t bring myself to ignore it.”

      “No, I’m sure you couldn’t.”

      He kept a straight face, but she punched him on the arm anyway. “Smartass. Is there any beer in the fridge?”

      “I think so.”

      She hunted for one. “There was some good news that came in, did you see that? I forwarded it. The Khembalis got a couple of grants.”

      “Really! That is good news.” He was sniffing at a yellow curry bubbling in the frying pan.

      “Something new?”

      “Yeah, I’m trying something out of the paper.”

      “You’re being careful?”

      He grinned. “Yeah, no blackened redfish.”

      “Blackened redfish?” Nick repeated, alarmed.

      “Don’t worry, even I wouldn’t try it on you.”

      “He wouldn’t want you to catch fire.”

      “Hey, it was in the recipe. It was right out of the recipe!”

      “So? A tablespoon each of black pepper, white pepper, cayenne, and chili powder?”

      “How was I supposed to know?”

      “What do you mean? You should have known what a tablespoon of pepper would taste like, and that was the least hot of them.”

      “I guess I didn’t know it would all stick to the fish.”

      Nick was looking appalled. “I wouldn’t eat that.”

      “You aren’t kidding,” Anna laughed. “One touch with your tongue and you would spontaneously combust.”

      “It was in a cookbook.”

      “Even going in the kitchen next day was enough to burn your eyes out.”

      Charlie was giggling at his folly, holding the stirring spoon down to Nick to gross him out, although now he had a very light touch with the spices.