“Actually, that would be an indication of psychosis.”
“You think belief is an indication of psychosis?”
They smile at each other again. There is definitely a little something astir within Madoka. Yoshi would like to stop talking soon. He wants to think about her later.
“Right now, for the families, it’s more about figuring out what kind of support mechanisms should be in place,” he says. “Also, things like . . . there have been situations where jealousy has arisen among crewmates because one person was getting more communication from a family member than the others. Things like that. Little things. That’s what they’re going to be working with the families on.”
“I don’t understand.” Madoka is still smiling. Her eyes drift away from Yoshi to the small square in the upper corner of the screen that reflects her own image. She is watching herself talk. “How useful is this simulation if we all know that it’s not really happening? Isn’t it kind of pointless unless you believe it?”
He does need her support. It is part of the mission, that he should have her support. He had thought she understood perfectly the importance of Eidolon, but sometimes Madoka processes things slowly. It is a lot to take in. Eidolon will give the families time to mentally prepare as well. (God in heaven, Mars.) Yoshi is not sure what he would do if his wife were to say to him, “Don’t go.” But she would never say to him “Don’t go.” She understands him too well. She feels the same way he does about these things. They have to be separated a lot, but it doesn’t matter, because their union is not dependent on their actually being together.
“You can’t tell me,” Madoka goes on, “that you won’t feel completely different things when you are actually going to Mars. Or maybe you can. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you at all. Maybe I just don’t understand what it’s like to be in a simulator.”
“Simulators are always the best training tool,” Yoshi says. “Remember when I was learning to fly the T-38? Nearly all my training was in a simulator. The first time I took over the controls of the actual plane I wasn’t stressed at all. I made no mistakes and it was the first time that any mistake on my part could have truly been fatal. But I wasn’t thinking about that. I was able to enjoy it.”
“I always have trouble imagining you flying a plane,” Madoka says.
“You’ve seen me fly a plane. You’ve sat next to me while I was flying a plane.”
“I know. Still. It seems so unlike you.”
Yoshi is not sure what she means. In his head, this isn’t at all the kind of conversation they have. He wills Madoka to close her eyes, and tap her lips with her fingers, but she yawns instead.
“I think it will be easier to understand everything once you are here and can see for yourself,” Yoshi says.
“Of course,” Madoka says.
“I have to meet the others now. Study time,” Yoshi says.
“I’m going to order room service and watch a movie.”
“That sounds nice.”
They say good-bye.
In truth, he is not meeting Sergei and Helen for another ten minutes, but the little something astir within Madoka seems to be making her irritable, and Yoshi would like to spare her having to display bad temper or unhappiness, which she would regret later.
To do his work he must put all thoughts of her aside, but he will think about her now. Her eyes are closed, but she is listening. Her hand flutters against her lips. The thin gold bracelets slip down her wrist. They are very much in love. He will give himself this moment. One jump from the cathedral tower. One long plummet on the end of a rope until the clapper strikes the bell. One swift ascent in the resonance. And then silence.
SERGEI
Sergei has never hired a prostitute. He is not going to do so now, but he is composing a mental list of pros and cons anyway. Reliable skill set and zero emotional risk, over illegality and potential fallout if discovered. Over the years he had been presented with many offers of free sexual congress. He’d turned almost all of them down. Talia had said she would be okay with other women giving him a blowjob, because in her mind, women who did that would be degrading themselves by the action and so would be of no importance. Sergei had only treated himself to the opportunity a few times. Joylessly, because Talia’s words had stuck and he had despised the women. Anyway, the success of a person lay in their ability to delay gratification. This had been proven scientifically. But if there was no honor in being an addict, there was also no pride in being an abstainer. The strong person was the person who could do a thing or not, as he chose. The strongest person could do a thing he didn’t want to do, and not do a thing he desired very much.
Sergei sends a message to his son Dmitri. Talia had taken the boy to the doctor because he hadn’t been feeling well lately, and if there were any risk of infection, Dmitri would not be able to come to Utah for the launch. But of course the boy was fine, had told Sergei privately that he wasn’t ill, he only wanted some time apart from the others. Sergei understood this—he had been a solitary boy himself. He’d grown out of it, but even now found himself drawn to the options on psychological evaluations that he knew indicated antisocial tendencies. Of course he would never circle, check, fill in, or otherwise indicate in any way this aspect of his nature. Disliking people was similar to receiving blowjobs from women who were not your wife: an occasional indulgence.