Soul

‘This must seem so civilised after Afghanistan,’ Naomi said, balancing a bead of golden cod’s roe delicately between two chopsticks.

‘Actually the hotel in Kabul was quite comfortable and the food surprisingly edible.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Julia watched Carla anxiously.

‘So did you find the data you were looking for?’ Andrew’s laconic manner infused every gesture he made.

‘I’m optimistic.’ Julia was careful, knowing that her colleague would be fishing for any new discovery that could influence his own research on genetics and viruses.

Carla leaned forward. ‘Julia’s got a new commission, with the Department of Defense, top secret, very hush hush.’

Julia glanced back at her, worried. It was uncharacteristic for her to be so indiscreet. Was there some secret unhappiness in the producer’s life, some new liaison she hadn’t told her about?

‘So I guess the DOD have you working on the next big thing in biological warfare?’ Andrew joked.

‘It’s an extension of my own research on combat soldiers who don’t suffer post-traumatic stress disorder.’

‘Ah, the famous two per cent you’re so fond of.’ Andrew reached for the tempura.

Carla laughed cynically. ‘I don’t believe it exists. I think we can all kill given the right circumstances.’

Terrified Carl

a would reveal the ambush incident to the others, Julia moved the sake bottle out of her friend’s reach. ‘Actually, historical research indicates that most soldiers avoided hand-to-hand combat—particularly killing with bayonets. The data shows that it’s just a small proportion of soldiers who do most of the killing.’

‘But what is the army going to do with this research?’ Carla pulled the sake bottle back towards her and poured herself another cup. Julia had never seen her so aggressive.

‘I’ve signed an agreement preventing me from talking about this in public,’ Julia replied. ‘That includes friends.’

‘You see, this is what happens when we turn thirty-five,’ Klaus intervened. ‘We become establishment. We’re told we’ve become respectable citizens, but in fact we become unquestioning citizens.’

‘That’s simplistic, Klaus, and you know it!’

There was an awkward silence. Julia looked into the faces of her friends. Did fear make unquestioning citizens? Life had certainly changed profoundly since the attack on the twin towers; it felt as if the insularity and arrogance of the western world had been shattered for ever. Suddenly, politics and culture had become more complex, and the traditional humanist assumptions that everyone wanted the same things—equality for employer and employee, man and woman—didn’t seem to work any more. Had they been labouring under the old philosophical illusion that all people were the same under the skin? Did religious and cultural differences profoundly shift the way one experienced reality?

‘Any more problems with the pro-lifers?’ Klaus asked.

‘They weren’t pro-lifers, they were animal liberationists,’ Julia corrected him.

‘Just be thankful it wasn’t the creationists,’ Andrew piped up. ‘Do you know that in Atlanta there’s a movement to get a warning sticker put on biology books reading, “This textbook contains material on evolution. Evolution is a theory, not a fact” etc, etc, etc. Welcome to the twenty-first century! I swear, between the cowboy in the White House and the Religious Right, America is on the brink of plunging into a new Dark Age. So help me God.’ In frustration, Andrew disembowelled his meticulously constructed tuna sushi roll.

‘You’ve also had trouble with them?’ Julia leaned forward.

‘Trouble? We stay unlisted and receive all correspondence through a post office box. As much as I believe in the Enlightenment, I refuse to be martyred for it. Crucifixion is such a bad look.’

‘Amen to that,’ Julia agreed, grinning.

‘So hands up—who did vote for the cowboy in the White House?’ Carla interjected drunkenly.

‘Not I said the fly with my little eye, although I confess I was once a Gay Republican, but only for eight weeks,’ Andrew retorted archly, then winked at Klaus. ‘I was dating a senator at the time. He, of course, was still in the closet.’

The atmosphere suddenly turned leaden. Determined to lift the mood, Julia looked across at Klaus. ‘We have something else to celebrate.’

‘Not now,’ Klaus murmured, looking panicked.

‘Why not? I’m past the first trimester.’

Paling, Carla turned to Julia. ‘You’re pregnant?’

Julia smiled tentatively, suddenly nervous at her friend’s ambivalent tone.