“Well, I agree with you there. We’ve moved from theory to practice, and we’ll adjust as necessary.”
“You know that I was really skeptical about this project at the beginning. I didn’t see how it would work out, but I wanted to give it a shot. It was a good opportunity for me. And now, I’ve been here a year, and I truly think something amazing is happening. Whenever you compare the results to the anticipated outcomes, we’re surpassing them. The kids are healthy and happy and cared for in ways that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.”
“But?” Dr. Grind said, feeling his heart rate increase, as if he was already running.
“It’s the parents we have to worry about,” Jeffrey finally said. “The kids are going to be great; the parents are the unstable element. You’ve got to watch them.”
“We don’t want to turn into Big Brother, Jeffrey. We have to give them some freedoms within the project. I can’t watch them twenty-four hours a day. I don’t want to.”
“I don’t either. My focus is on the kids. And maybe this all starts to work itself out when the parents head off to their jobs and school and all that. Once their life outside the complex expands, maybe then they’ll be more comfortable within the family. I hope. I’m just voicing a concern.”
“I hear you,” Dr. Grind said.
“That’s all I wanted to say.” Jeffrey grabbed a towel that he had hung on one of the exercise machines and wiped the sweat from his face. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “I’ve got the first shift in the morning with the kids.”
“Have a good night,” Dr. Grind said.
Once he was alone, Dr. Grind turned on the treadmill and began to walk; it seemed like every time he put his foot down on the treadmill, it was like stepping in tar. His muscles were twitching. He turned up the speed until he was jogging at a fair pace, but even that didn’t get rid of the nerves that were causing his muscles to harden and atrophy. He turned the machine up even faster, and then a few more clicks, until he was running as hard as he could. He knew that if he slipped up or stopped, the force of the treadmill would send him crashing through the wall behind him, so he kept running, feeling his lungs contract, his legs burn. He named every single child in the family, and then named every parent, as if the sequence was a code that would unlock something in his brain. “Marnie, Eli, Cap, Eliza, Ally, Lulu, Gilberto, Jackie, Irene, and Maxwell,” a song without music. “Izzy, Harris, Ellen, Julie, Link, Asean, Nikisha, Kenny, Carmen, David, Susan, Paul, Mary, Benjamin, Alyssa, Carlos, Nina, Jeremy, and Callie.” Even then it did not end. “Kalina, Jill, Jeffrey.” He ran and ran. “Marla . . . Jody.” How was it possible to hold all of these people in his heart? What were they even doing there? Over the course of a year, he had brought all of these people together and now he felt the pressure that, if he did not hold on to them tightly enough, they would slip away, spread out across the map and never return. He finally slapped at the console of the treadmill and the speed began to decline in increments, until Dr. Grind finally remembered that his legs were a part of his body, until he was once again simply putting one foot in front of the other, his footsteps not making a sound.
Sleep was not going to be possible tonight, not a single minute. He stepped off the treadmill, feeling like he was now on the surface of an inhospitable planet. He felt the urge to go to the sleep room, to check on the babies. Instead, he walked out into the open air, the chill instantly attaching itself to the sweat on his arms and legs. He seated himself on a bench in the middle of the courtyard. He looked up at the sky, at the stars, and let his body adjust to the temperature. After a few minutes, his mind wandering, nothing that he could focus on but the fact that he needed to go back inside, he heard one of the doors of the houses open. He tensed up, so clearly visible, and then he heard Carlos call out, “Dr. Grind?”
“It’s me, Carlos,” he said, waving to the shadowy form standing in the doorway.
“You okay?” Carlos asked.
“I’m fine,” he said, now worried that his voice would wake the other parents.
Carlos walked back into the house and then, a few seconds later, returned, now wearing a coat and a pair of sneakers. He jogged over to the bench, and Dr. Grind had the immediate desire to simply take off, but he remained where he was.
“It’s cold out here,” Carlos said, and Dr. Grind agreed.
“What are you doing up?” Dr. Grind asked him.
“Nina was pumping; I always get up with her, get her water, and then she goes back to sleep and I’m always wide awake. I was looking up stuff on the Internet and then I saw you out here.” He looked at Dr. Grind and then said, “You should be inside.”