ChapterII

IDEALS
CHAPTER II

2218 MDT 19 JUNE
SWAYSEE'S HOLE
HIGH UINTAS WILDERNESS AREA
DUCHESNE COUNTY, UTAH

Six people were illuminated by the small campfire, three men and three women. All were warmly dressed in woolen shirts and wind breakers against the thin chill wind that always blew here. Light weight tents were set up around the site, perched in a narrow meadow near the pristine waters of Swaysee's Hole, a small tarn lake in the hollow gouged out by ancient glaciers. Jagged peaks encircled them, rising to pinnacles mere hundreds of feet above. The tree line, below which grew lodge pole pine and Douglas fir, was a five minute walk from camp. It rested as a tonsure on the sheer slope backing the lake less than a stone throw from its surface. The bare granite slopes showed ghostly white above the black of the forest.

"So Marty, how's the eco-scientist?" Firelight flickered off the healthy, weathered face of the strong young woman.

"I'm fine, and I'm not one yet. Three more years."

"Three years. Will you be able to do any good, won't it be too late?"

"It may not be too late. We probably have ten years till the oil runs out and the whole world starts starving. We need to get ready for it now and start saving Mother Earth. We do have to do something now to stop the waste of scarce resources and prevent global warming before the whole eco-system is destroyed, though."

A short, bear-like man lounging across the fire spoke up, "Behold the true believer. It's too late, so just enjoy life."

"Yeah, I'm a true believer. Man is the worst thing that has happened to this poor planet. We need to act now, before it is too late. That's why I'm going to get involved with next years elections. If we get rid of this administration that only wants to rip up the environment, we have a chance. But men have to be stopped."

Another of the fit women around the fire piped up, "Oh, I don't know. Men are useful from time to time." Coarse laughter greeted this sally, and the night progressed to pot and booze.

Martin shook his head and sighed, staring out through the trees to the dark waters of the lake reflecting grayly the eternal mountains. The soft, warm hand of his companion distracted him, breaking the train of his thoughts.

0734 PST 24 NOVEMBER
WHITTIER CANYON PARK
WHITTIER, CALIFORNIA

Fog rose in wisps among the eucalyptus trees. The narrow canyon was threaded by a hiking trail. At its mouth, picnic tables and grass greeted the occasional men and women who came to walk, bike and jog. Above the treetops, serenely as a fleet sailing seas of glass, homes could barely be discerned on the lips of the canyon. Shafts of sunlight illuminated the tops of the trees. Fifteen men and women walked slowly up the canyon to a secluded spot. Reaching a ring of tree trunks encircling a dead fire pit, they sat.

A young woman, tanned, twenty-four and slender, stood. She gave the surroundings a quick once over. "Welcome. You're all dedicated members of ecological groups and friends of the Congressman. And you're here because you knowthe Congressman is the best hope for the environment in Washington. So we can trust each other, and we need each other. So here are the ground rules between us. First, no names. The Congressman doesn't want any ties. Second, we have never met. Third, we need to make sure that there is no doubt that all of the opposition is deep sixed. The Congressman has a little family trouble. His boy friend has gotten into trouble, and the relationship is about to break in the media. So, join the other campaigns and sink them."

The Congressman's Public Communications Specialist strode off down the canyon immediately, leaving a buzz of conversation behind her in the early morning mist. Reaching her car, she picked up her cellular phone and speed dialed number one.

"This is Annette, Bill. Tell him not to worry about reelection."

The voice on the other end chuckled. "I see. Ve see nothink! Ve know nothink!"

"That's right. We don't know anything, we're not involved. And the really funny thing is that this bunch doesn't even realize the Congressman doesn't care about anything but his boyfriend and his toys. Well, that's their problem. I'll be back at the office in forty-five minutes." She hung up and drove off.

The group still in the wooded circle had excitedly drawn together. Bev Chalom raised her hands and whistled to get attention. "People. Settle down. I'm from Wilderness Protectors and my name is Bev." The noise dropped to normal conversation levels. "Shut up!" Laughs greeted this.

"O.K. Bev, we're listening." Came a voice from the back. "Why did you call us here?" More laughter.

"You're a rascal, Mike. We need to get this organized and get out of here." Looking over the group, she asked, "What are we going to do to sink these campaigns?"

Martin stepped forward. "I don't think we can beat them by having a better message. I don't know about anybody else, but you have to hope Joe Six Pack can see beyond the end of his nose for that to work, and I have little faith in that. You can out advertise, which really works. But you have to get lots more money, and I don't see that happening. Last, scandal always is good for killing the opposition. I think we ought to go digging for skeletons in the closet."

Growls of agreement greeted this. A bright young black woman, Mandi Bouvier, raised her hand. "What if there are no skeletons?"

Bev smirked, "Oh, I think we can find some." More laughter.

Mandi's face became mulish. "Well, I won't have anything to do with dirty campaigning."

"Too bad." Martin had moved right into her face. "Just forget you came and what you heard."

Scared, she backed off as he advanced. "Yeah. Of course. I still favor the Congressman. But this could really backfire." She spun and left. Four others went with her.

Bev looked long at their departing backs. "I hope that was wise, Martin," she whispered to him.

Martin just smiled and nodded. Turning to the group, he broke the somber mood. "O.K. What are we going to do?"

Bev stepped in from the other side of the circle. "Let's break in two groups. One to hit any primary opposition, and the other to prepare to hit the Republican candidate."

Pointing at three of the eager faces. "You get into the Republican campaigns and find out everything you can before June when the rest of us will join you. The rest of us will work on the Democratic challenger. Martin, get everyone's names and phone numbers."

Gradually they filtered down the canyon, chatting together.

2109 PDT 19 AUGUST
COFFORD HOME
HACIENDA HEIGHTS, CALIFORNIA

The TV swept over the campaign rally, and then back to the stand. The conservative Republican candidate was waving with his family from the front of the stage, backed by his staff. Mark was walking through the family room on his way back to his desk from the refrigerator when he glanced at the screen. A red hair topped face leaped out at him, a reflection of himself.

Stopping abruptly, he asked, "When did Martin become pro business?"

Lisa Cofford turned back to him. "Oh, he joined this guy right after that poor lady, what's her name, lost the Democratic primary to the Congressman."

"Mom, weren't there some scandals or something that came out about her there at the end when she was ahead."

"Yes. I remember that. But they all turned out to be made up. They found that out too late, though. I think it was a week after the election."

"Thanks." Mark thoughtfully walked back to his room.

Twenty minutes later, Martin came in and flopped on the bed.

"Boy, am I bushed. Got to be at the office at six tomorrow morning."

"Not using a car to get there, are you?" Mark concentrated on his screen while he talked.

"Yeah, I am. So why do you care?"

"I'm just glad you've given up that nonsense about gas engines destroying the planet, and man wrecking everything he touches."

"Who says I have? And with global warming, things are worse, not better. We're cleaning things up, so you better find a profession that will exist after we take over. Cause, there ain't agonna be any space travel."

"Just checking to see if you were still delusional."

"You don't see it coming, but it'll be here before you know it."

Mark grunted.

. . .

Mark waited in absolute stillness for five minutes after Martin had left the house. Getting up, he tiptoed to his door and closed it quietly. Next he put towels under the door and around the frame. Turning on his lights, he moved to Martin's desk.

Looking at each stack of papers separately, he replaced each one after reaching the bottom. On a yellow pad, he made notes. Three women's names kept coming up regarding something called 3D. Other names were attached to Toxic Waste.

Accessing Martin's computer, Mark snorted at the encryption program. Thirty seconds after entering Wolf as the password, he was through the second level encryption. August 26 leaped out at him for 3D. Three women's statements and faked photos apparently were about ready for release.

Toxic Waste Phase One started September 19, with Phase Two slated for October 15 and Phase Three Halloween. Robert Macusack, the challenger, owned a trucking company. Bills of lading and doctored receipts from licensed dumps would show illegal dumping.

Down loading the files, he scowled. Carefully he exited, and placed the disk in his laptop case. Showering, he was out the door by seven thirty. Twenty-five minutes later he was at the campaign headquarters. The first person he saw was one of Martin's pals.

"Hey, Jerry! Where's the candidate today?"

"Biola in La Mirada. Why?"

"Martin forgot something, and I've got to let him have it."

"Well, you better hurry. They're moving on about nine."

"Thanks."

Pulling into the administration parking lot, he was engulfed with the hoopla of a photo op. The well manicured campus of Bible Institute of Los Angeles, a seminary, was hosting a small rally of five hundred and presentation of a family values award to the candidate. Three well turned out children and a perfect wife stood behind him as it was presented.

Walking around the fringes of the crowd, he watched for Martin. Spotting him talking to a small group on his side of the platform, Mark slipped around the other way. Mrs. Macusack was chatting with several of the professors beside the platform.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to her. "Mrs. Macusack?"

"Oh, Marty. Its Belle."

"Mrs. Macusack, I'm not Martin, I'm Mark Cofford, his twin. Could I speak with you for a minute?"

Briefly weighing him, and his concern, she turned to the professors, "Could you excuse me just a moment?" They nodded. "Thank you." Turning to Mark, he led her out of ear shot.

"Mrs. Macusack, Martin is an expert at dirty tricks. He may be my brother, but this is the sort of thing that really torques me off."

"What are you talking about? Marty is a great help."

"First, he hates being called Marty. Second, you remember the Democratic primary challenger . . . what was her name?"

"Lucy Barton."

"Yeah, that's her. Anyway, she had those phantom scandals that disappeared after the election. Martin helped set it up. And now he has joined you to set you up."

"That's far fetched. He is a great help, and wants to beat the Congressman, no matter what, because of his homosexuality."

"Boy has he fooled you. Anyway, I've got to get to work. This disk has all the information on his sex scandal set up and faked toxic dumping records. Good luck." He spun and walked off to his car.

Watching him a moment, and tapping the disk on her hand, she waved over the campaign manager. "Vince. Be very careful with this. Marty's brother gave this to me. But he has an obvious axe to grind. However, I've wondered about those wunderkind that came over from Lucy's campaign. Check it out. The brother says they are setting up phantom scandals for us, just like Lucy got. There may be some others on the staff who are in on this deal if its for real. And don't tell Bobby. I don't want him cracking his smile trying to figure it out."

"Got it." Vince waved over his aides. "I need to run over to Macusack Trucking. Keep things on track." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he went to his car.

1852 PDT 27 AUGUST
CHANNEL 47 STUDIOS
WHITTIER, CALIFORNIA

The set was backed by fake bookcases and covered with a thick blue rug. The interviewer had pretensions of a network career, and she wanted her work to look like the big time. Two large overstuffed chairs were angled together, half facing the cameras. Camera one brought them together in a single frontal facing shot. Camera two focused narrowly on the interviewer, and three zeroed in on the victim, to catch every bit of shock and dismay the interviewer knew she was about to ring out of her subject. The interviewer wore a dark skirt and jacket with frilly yellow blouse. Today's victim was Mrs. Macusack, wife of the center of the new sex scandal.

"And what do you think of the reports of your husband's extramarital affairs, Belle." The funereal tones set the stage for the interviewer to swoop in for the kill, while apparently empathizing with the victim through use of her first name.

"Well, Margaret. I know this is all manufactured by some of the Congressman's staffers. We have proof that they intentionally torpedoed Lucy Barton, and have a smear campaign planned for us. I know you broke both Lucy's scandals and this one, but I'm sure they have only duped you. You would never stoop to being a willing participant in their scam."

"What are you talking about? We would never take sides. We are only interested in informing the voters."

"Yes, I'm sure that's true." Now the sacrificial victim was in control, oozing concern. "However, we received a timely warning, and have investigated these charges thoroughly. We have fired twenty staffers whom we have conclusively determined were in on this filthy behavior. And Lucy's campaign manager tells us he is asking the Attorney General to investigate possible voter fraud by the Congressman's people immediately, and to decertify the primary results. This is a list of the back stabbers, and the environmental groups they belong to." Handing the open mouthed interviewer a typed list, which Margaret had suspected before the program to be a speech to save face, Belle Macusack got up and left the studio, running cameras with her aides tracking her regal exit. A battleship never looked grander sweeping over the horizon while her enemy sank in flames behind her.

Belle began looking for a house in Maryland the next day.

1024 PST 6 NOVEMBER
MACUSACK FOR CONGRESS HEADQUARTERS
WHITTIER, CALIFORNIA

The phone was picked up by a bleary eyed, but jubilant secretary. "Congressman Macusack's headquarters. May I help you?"

"This is Mark Cofford. I'd like to speak to Mrs. Macusack, please."

"Just a minute, please." Pressing an intercom number, Belle Macusack came on the line.

"What is it?"

"Someone saying they're Mark Cofford is on the line for you. But it sure sounds like that rat Martin."

"Thanks."

"Belle Macusack. May I help you?" She looked out the window with a bored expression after too much caffeine and champagne the night before.

"This is Mark Cofford, Martin's brother. I wanted to call and congratulate you."

"Thank you Mr. Cofford." Her expression didn't change.

"And I was wondering if you have a job available?"

"Not at this time. I'm afraid you'll have to speak to my husband about that anyway." Still no change.

"You know how helpful I can be. Isn't there something coming up."

"What are you talking about, Mr. Cofford?" She got out a nail file.

"The dirty tricks information I gave you about what Martin and his friends were doing. Doesn't that count for something?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. Is there anything else?"

"No. Nothing."

"Goodbye, then Mr. Cofford."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Macusack." Click.

Martin turned to the three men around him. "You're sure you saw him at the Biola event?"

Digger nodded his head. "At the time, you seemed to be in two places at the same time. And I thought it was strange that Belle the Bitch was chatting so friendly with you. Only later I started to put two and two together."

"And Jerry saw him that morning. I'll get them both, if its the last thing I do. Especially Mark. I'll get him especially."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Those big computers he loves need lots of power." Martin pulled out a schematic of Cal Tech's power grid. "So what happens on a day when there is a heavy demand, and there is a brown out? Cal Tech switch on the auxiliaries. But if there is no auxiliary? Boom. No more data."

They all grinned ferally. "You're a beast, Mr. Wolf." Digger slapped him on the back.

"These are the weak points. Digger, the two auxiliary connections are here and here." His finger hit the schematic. "Bull, you and the Jackal do the main substation. I'll take down the secondary. Really simple. We turn off the juice and interrupt the flow of electrons. Bull, Jackal and I get part time jobs with Con Ed under different names. Digger, you go to work for the campus. Use your American Indian identity. We hit them December 8.

1945 PST 8 DECEMBER
PASADENA SUBSTATION
CONSOLIDATED EDISON SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
PASADENA, CALIFORNIA

A Con Ed panel truck pulled up to the chain link gate of the substation. A large shadow moved in front of the headlights, unlocked the chain, and swung open the gate. The truck pulled through, but the gate was left open, contrary to company policy. The work order on the dash clip board was to check on a report called in ten minutes earlier of sparking on a power pole six blocks away. The driver stopped the truck next to the substation fuse house, and then walked out of the gate and down the street to a yellow jeep.

A second Con Ed truck on its way to the shop for repair pulled up to a transformer one mile away which provides back up to the area of Pasadena serviced by the main power station. The driver, a dark haired and dark skinned, Hispanic looking man when seen in the light, climbed into the cherry-picker bucket. Rising to the transformer, he attached a braided steel cable to the transformer housing, and then lowered himself to the ground. He carefully secured the cable to the truck frame, and returned to the cab.

A small brown man, employed as a Navajo to meet the school's affirmative action quota, walked out of the maintenance room next to the Computer Science Department's main frame at Cal Tech. He slipped a cable used to connect the auxiliary power bus to the main. Ten minutes before, he had visited the other location on campus identified as leading to the back up generators. He ditched his coveralls behind a bush as he exited the building.

Christmas lights blazed while families made dinner and watched television. Students crammed for finals. Shoppers jammed the store aisles. Revelers packed the restaurants, many waiting for tables. Traffic slowly flowed from signal to signal. The elderly and homebound attached to oxygen pumps and monitors labored to enjoy life in this joyous season.

The Con Ed truck revved up as the seconds approached eight o'clock. Throwing the truck into gear, the driver shoved a stick against the accelerator and, jumping out as it surged forward, dashed for a nearby motorcycle. When the cable tautened, the transformer was ripped off the pole. A momentary flicker crossed central Pasadena.

In the substation, the remaining worker opened the fuses, breaking the free flow of power. He then ran for the jeep waiting at the gate and roared off. Racing through the darkened streets, they met with the others near the on ramp to the 210. Jumping out, they high-fived and yowled with Martin, his hair dyed black, skin darkened, and Digger. Lights surrounded them from every direction but the east.

Martin jumped back on his bike. "I've got to get back to Santa Cruz before I flunk out or am missed. I'm also shaving off the hair. See you guys next summer." He roared off north. The others split up and disappeared soon after.

Darkness descended across the city, throwing fifteen thousand homes and businesses into chaos. Traffic snarled to a complete stop with numerous fender bumpers. Dinner ground to a halt while candles were sought. Businesses closed, but not before numerous items walked out as 'gifts' from the merchants to the lucky shoppers. Computers lost input data. Studying became impossible, raising the stress level to new heights for many. Newly input data was lost, and would have to be reentered once power was restored. And several of the homebound and elderly did not see the completion of the Christmas season. Cost to Con Ed for liability payments, sixteen million dollars. No real damage was done to the Cal Tech main frame or the students except for the inconvenience of rebooting.

1210 PDT 6 MAY
LECTURE HALL
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ
SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA

Dark wood paneling glowed faintly around the lecture hall. Amphitheater style, the rows of desks with tops that could be rotated to the side for easier access descended gradually to the stage. Several students clustered around the teaching assistant while others gathered up their books and notes and left. Backed up against the blackboard, there was no exit for the slight young man.

"Don't you think economics should be driven by the best interest of society?" shot the girl on his right with less than a question in her tone.

Turning, he said, "I don't make basic economic laws. If you don't like them, change human nature."

From behind him, a hand grabbed and spun him back around. "You really believe people act like this economically? How do you explain the Incas? Why should we even have to take this course?"

Cringing, the TA lunged for his books. "Yes, I do think people act like this. The Incas will require a long answer, and talk to the administration if you don't like the graduation requirements." With that he dashed for the door, trailing what seemed to be a pack of yapping hounds at his heels.

Smugly watching yet another enemy driven from the field, Martin was stunned when the pert brunette walked by and said, "Idiot." Then she was gone. Martin hurried out the door to catch her.

Catching a quick breath, he said, "So you agree he's an idiot?" They had passed out onto the eucalyptus lined walk. Pines towered nearby.

Looking straight ahead as she walked, she said, "He's an idiot because he doesn't recognize the pseudo-intellectual group attack mounted on him by your friends. You're an idiot because you believe the same drivel they do. Now leave me alone."

"First tell me your name. And your phone number."

"Get lost. My friends have warned me about you, Martin Cofford, and I don't have time for middle of the night phone calls from your intellectual terrorists."

Hurt and intrigue warred in his features. "So why don't you explain the errors of my ways to me?" Arrogance and challenge both were flung in front of the girl.

Stopping, she turned and batted her china blue eyes. "Why, Mr. Cofford," she said in a syrupy Southern belle accent, insincerity dripping from every syllable. "How could little ole me tell such an intellectual giant like yourself anything?" She batted her innocent eyes at him one more time, and marched off.

Running to stand in front of her, he doffed a mock hat with a flourish and a bow. He said in dulcet tones, "Dear lady, you have vanquished me." Standing erect once more, he then knelt and grasped one of her hands holding her armload of books. "Please tell me your name, and allow me to call upon you, lest I die."

Mischievous light glinted in the depths of her eyes. The Southern drawl remained as she turned her head, "Ah culdn't beah it if you should kill yo-sef on my account. Ah am Jennifer Lindley, and you may call on me."

Martin arose, and taking her books, continued walking with her. Both were chuckling by now.

. . .

Marty stood behind a tall eucalyptus. The fall sun created a golden halo around the walking girls. Jenny was walking and laughing with her friends. What a beautiful girl. He sauntered out as she passed.

"Hey, girls!"

"Hi, Marty." The three giggling girls left them.

"So." Marty put his arm around Jenny, and they continued on. "How ya doin?"

"Fine. Especially now that you're here."

"Of course. Read the Banana Slug today?" (Banana Slug was the unofficial nickname for the student paper. Banana Slug is the mascot for UC Santa Cruz).
"Unfortunately. Some idiot had an article on how children are the cause of all of the world's problems. He said all medical care should be withheld from children in a family after the first child to reduce world population. And then he demanded that every student in college voluntarily be sterilized as an example to the world. He said it would fix the problem of single parents, since everyone knows marriage is obsolete, anyway. The gutless wonder then signed some stupid name like 'Wolf' so no one would know who wrote it."

Marty stuck his face two inches from hers. "He's absolutely right. One third of the people in the world go to bed hungry every night. Get rid of that one third, and the world becomes a paradise. And its only the poor and those deluded by religion who are getting married or having children anyway. The rich only have one child, and look at the things they give their kids."

"Well, Mister Know-it-all, I have lots of rich friends. And it seems to me that they aren't as happy as those with fewer 'things', and more love. It's how people feel about each other, and how they treat each other, that matters. Things are a distant second. And another thing. I'm one of those 'deluded by religion', as you call them. I want kids. Lots of them, because I love them. And I'm not in any danger of becoming a single mother, and I won't have any kids until after marriage."

"I can't believe you're saying these things. The world is being destroyed because of the oppression of women by the patriarchal marriage trap. Women have finally been freed from the threat of children, and are free to express their sexuality. And you are waiting till you're wedding night!"

"Yes, I am. If it is that good, I want to share it with only one man. The one who will love me forever."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"Well, Martin Cofford. If you hang around me, that isn't the only 'stupid' thing you'll ever hear."

Marty stopped, searchingly examined Jenny's infuriated face, and took a breath. Giving a crooked smile, he said, "Maybe it won't be, at that."

Jenny gave a self conscious laugh, "You can be sure of that. So don't tease me like that." She put his arm around her shoulder again, and they continued on down the walk.

Dropping Jenny at her American History class, Marty saw Jens looking at the leaves above him in a daze.

Jens waved. "Hey Marty. Great article. I bet a bunch of the sweet young things take your advice. We'll have some fun, then."

"Yeah. That was the idea. Always give people a noble reason to do things they know they shouldn't, that's my motto. Ya just gotta get them to believe it. And any will, if you work on them long enough. So what ya smoking?"

. . .

Jenny floated in on a cloud into her apartment, and dropped her books on the couch before heading to her room. November was her favorite month, now.

Betty called as she passed, "Did you hear? Professor Meyrick is leaving at the end of the semester."

That stopped her in her tracks. "No! Why would he leave? He's my favorite professor."

"The way I heard it, your boy friend and his pals started heckling him in class, and wouldn't shut up. Then, when that didn't work, someone sugared his gas tank, and ground broken glass into the pages of the books in his office. The last straw was when his family started receiving calls in the middle of the night."

"That's horrible. But Martin would never do those things! He may be a little radical, but he'd never do anything to hurt someone. He cares about people, everyone in the world. He just wants them to have a better life." She said it with more intensity than called for.

"Get a grip, girl. Your boy friend is absolutely serious. He was one of those who tried to rig a congressional election last year. He was on the news, prominently."

"He told me about that. The guy really was corrupt, but his connections bailed him out."

"And there is a tooth fairy, too. Look. Lucy Barton was a good women's rights candidate, and on EMILY's (EMILY means Early Money Is Like Yeast) list. My parents gave her and the others on the list the maximum contribution. They were really angry about the job your boy friend and the others did on her, too. And there was no doubt about the set up they got Lucy with."

"You're wrong! He was just a scape goat! So don't repeat those groundless rumors to me!"

Betty's mouth soured. "Obviously love is blind. Just lift the blindfold occasionally so you don't bark your shins too badly."

"Just don't pass that junk on to me." She stomped into her room, and slammed the door. Why did they always have to burst her bubble and ruin her happiness? They were just jealous.

1853 PST NOVEMBER 23
COFFORD HOME
HACIENDA HEIGHTS, CALIFORNIA

Standing in the doorway watching the motorcycle pull up, Mark stood behind his father, mother, and three siblings; an older brother Jeff, and younger sisters Bethany and Sissy. All of the others were waving at Martin and the girl who got off the bike. He looked on, stone-faced, and went back inside as soon as introductions were made.

Walking into the house, Jenny shot Martin a question with raised eyebrows. Leaning over, he whispered, "He's still mad about my beating him for student body president in high school." The smells of Thanksgiving baking distracted him.

Intently, she whispered, "Nobody holds a grudge that long."

Martin said over his shoulder, "Mark does."

Brows furrowed, Jenny walked into the living room with Martin, notably devoid of Mark.

Dishes drained on the counter. The family sat chatting around the large kitchen table playing cards.

"So, when is the big day?" Lisa Cofford looked innocent as she asked.

"Mother." Martin's mouth hooked in the manner she found more and more unsettling. "Marriage means children."

Jenny looked embarrassed and pained.

"And what is wrong with children?" his mother asked. "You were one once, as I recall." Bethany dealt.

"And became one of the five billion people too many on this poor planet. Resources are running out and global warming will swamp the best farm land."

Mark snorted. "You're consistent, at least, in predicting doom and gloom. Eight years ago you said raw materials would double in price and half of the 'seven' billion people on the earth by now would be starving to death. Three for three - wrong. Give it a rest." The family began to look distinctly uncomfortable.

Martin rounded on him. "The Vice President has identified an ozone hole over North America and says in his book that the car is the single greatest health threat to mankind's existence."

"The only ozone hole my friends in the meteorology department have identified over North America follows the Vice President around. As for health risks, his former tobacco crop strikes me as much more dangerous. But tobacco farmers vote. He blames the car, but what he really wants is for people to do what he says, however idiotic."

Jenny nodded thoughtfully.

"Boys," Jim Cofford leaned over the table. "No more bickering. I've heard this same argument for ten years, and we won't inflict it on our guest."

Mark clammed up, but Martin whispered in Jenny's ear, "And Mark keeps losing it," without looking at her, watching Mark's reaction, instead.

Jenny was startled by the venom in his voice.

. . .

Mark sat back in the easy chair as he ran load configuration modifications on his computer. The modem was hooked up to the main frame at Cal Tech. The other boys and his father were watching a ball game. A quiet knock caused him to turn.

Jenny came in. "Your mother wanted me to tell you dinner will be on in ten minutes." The schematic on the monitor screen caught her eye. "What are you working on?"

"Thanks for letting me know. That is a load out program for a space cargo pod. I've been working on random access systems. This program lets me test time to completion."

She glanced from him to the screen. "Hobby?"

"No," he began to save the data and break the link. "It's for my senior project at Cal Tech dealing with RAM theory. I'm looking for a faster and more energy effective way to access memory." His face lit up.

"Pretty impressive." She turned to go.

Mark hesitated. "I hope you're happy with Martin."

"Thank you." Impulsively she spun back to him. "I wish you and Martin would make up. You aren't really still angry about him about his being elected Student Body President are you?"

"No. I never was." His voice and face became stone.

"Then what was it?" She knelt beside the chair and searched his face.

"You really don't want to know." He stood to leave.

"Please tell me. Maybe we can work it out." Her pleading eyes mesmerized him.

"O.K. You ask him about the Science Fair." He broke away.
. . .

Breaths puffed white in the street lights as the two bundled figures walked along the hillside above the houses. Fairy lights twinkled across the valley to east, west and south. North the glare reflected off the clouds. Few stars broke through the man made glow to shine on the couple.

"I hate the city." Vehemence gave life to the trite words.

"Martin?" Jenny leaned against him. "Mark says he's mad about something you did at the science fair as Student Body President, not the election. What did you do?"

Martin laughed out loud. "Is that what he said? Compared to the student body election, that was nothing." He continued to chuckle.

Now she backed off and turned to him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing much. Science fairs encourage the waste of resources on worthless science. There was even one of the projects that could have increased life expectancy if the implications were correct, so a sprinkler malfunction the night before the Fair doused their expectations, so to speak. Table legs seemed to buckle also, unfortunately. I don't think they ever caught anyone on that prank." He started laughing.

"You screwed up people's hard work because you disagreed with them philosophically? Because they disagreed with your politics?" Now she intently searched his face. "What happened in the student body elections?"

Slightly off balance, he became truculent. "It was no big deal. The kids for me and the bimbo running against me got together and shouted Mark down at the assembly. No one was listening anyway."

"And how did it come about that they shouted down your own brother?" She recoiled. "You set it up, didn't you? Didn't you?!" The truth was in his face.

"What do you care? He is a traitor. He doesn't care about Gaia. He wants to waste resources that should go to the starving. He has terrific talents that could save many species, and he won't help."

She flared brighter. "Only you are right. No one can ever disagree. You only see your point of view. You'll never love anybody else except to the extent you see yourself reflected in their eyes. You're a warped little worm!"

Spinning, she stomped off down the hill. A hand clamped onto her left arm and spun her back around. "This isn't about Mark, its about whether I'll marry you and give you children like a good stud! Isn't, it? ISN'T IT!?!" His towering rage overwhelmed her.

"You want to sleep with me, but you won't marry me." Tears poured down her face. "What's wrong with you? All you care about is yourself. Let me go!" She shook her arm loose and stumbled off toward the house, shoulders heaving.

"That's it?" Incredulity shocked him as he followed her, shouting at her back. "That's it!? You are just like the rest of the sows in the world! You want to drop little piglets and bury Mother Earth in man's trash! I thought you were different! I thought you were intelligent!"

Jenny's sobs increased. "And I thought you were special. How could you?" She broke into a stumbling run.

Just as she disappeared into the darkness, he gulped back a sob. "Jenny," he called, "don't go!" He began to run after her, but couldn't catch her before she dashed into the house.

The first person she saw was Mark. "Mark, drive me home. Please?" She buried her head in her hands and leaned against him, sobbing.

Caught off guard, he put his arms tentatively around her and spluttered "Why? What happened?"

Martin burst in, and so them together. "So that's what happened! You poisoned her against me. I'll get you! I'll get you both!" Shoving past them both, he stormed beyond them to his bedroom.

"Huh?" Mark was dumb founded. Jenny slowly slumped onto the floor, tears streaming down her face, which she held in her hands.

"What's going on, Jenny?" Mark leaned over and tentatively reached out to touch her. "Jenny?" The rest of the Cofford family, drawn by the shouting, gathered tentatively around.

Lisa gathered Jenny into her arms. "What's the matter, honey? What happened?"

As she blubbered out the story, the family gathered tightly around her. No one noticed the motorcycle that roared out of the driveway.

"You poor thing." Lisa looked at Mark with pain in her eyes as she cuddled Jenny closer.

Jim hung his head and awkwardly put his arm around Mark. Softly, he said, "I'm sorry, son. I didn't know."

Jeff shook his head. "I'll take her home."

Mark shook his head. "I'll do it. She asked me."

Driving her to La Mirada a half mile away, the silence lengthened. "I'm sorry." Mark said.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything. You saved me from that monster."

"Uh."

"Isn't this the point where you tell me he isn't so bad?" A small smile crossed her lips.

"Huh. You expect me to say nice things about Martin, you could wait a long time. You are much too good for him. If I had met you first, I would have asked you out."

"Well, time travel isn't something I can help you with." Getting out in front of her house, she leaned back in. "I still can't really believe how blind I was to what he is like deep inside. Even after I saw him do things to people on campus." She shook her head. "I guess I thought he was just acting up like a lot of others." Her grin soured, and then calmed. "Well, don't be a stranger."