“I’m asking for absolutes. I thought you liked those. ”
“But that could take weeks! Months!”
“Then you’d better get started,” Grant said, as he flicked a glance toward the door. He heard a familiar noise approaching from down the hall, and was relieved to realize that he’d discovered a way out of this interminable, wheedling conversation. “Right now, I think. I have another visitor, and I need a word with him in private. ”
Before Desmond Fowler could muster a response, the incoming hum grew louder and a mechanical chair appeared in the doorway. Fowler sprang to his feet, and made a small, formal bow. “Mr. Lincoln, sir. ”
President Grant got to his feet somewhat more slowly, but he was balancing his weight against the alcohol in his blood. He leaned on the arm of his sturdy chair and smiled a greeting. “Abe, it’s good to see you. Come on in. Pull up to the fire. Fowler was just on his way out. ”
For a moment, Grant thought Fowler might fight him on it—that he might scramble for some excuse to stay, some flattery he might apply or some social pressure he might leverage. Thankfully, he decided against the effort in time to politely bow again.
“Yes, I was just leaving. But it’s been a pleasure as always, Mr. President. And Mr. Lincoln. ” He retrieved his overcoat from a rack by the door and took his leave.
When Grant and Lincoln were confident that Fowler was well out of hearing range, Lincoln adjusted his chair, backing up and pulling forward again so he could shut the office door. While he did this, Grant moved his normal guest chair aside to make room at the hearth.
Abraham Lincoln said, “I was afraid you’d be in the yellow oval. It’s a fine office, but I find it hard to reach, these days. ”
“Nah. I don’t like that office. Too big, too much to look at. I can’t get a damn thing done in there. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. But don’t let my temperance stop you from having another. ”
“I never do. ” President Grant refreshed the whiskey before dropping back into the big armchair. Its leather had become so fire-warmed that it stung, but he liked the sharp heat seeping through his clothes.
Lincoln removed the blanket that covered his knees, folding it over the arm of his chair. His long, knobby legs leaned slightly to the right, and his shoulders stooped to the left, but the chair had been create
d with his height in mind and he looked more or less comfortable. Minus the eye patch, and with the addition of his infamous hat, he might have looked like he was just sitting down and not confined there.
“What did Fowler want you to sign this time?”
“Something for the War Department. I told him no. ”
“Then he’ll be back,” Lincoln said quietly.
“Well, he is the Secretary of State. If he didn’t come back, I’d have a problem. Another problem, I mean. There are always plenty to go around. ” He changed the subject, fishing for a more casual tone or topic. “So, why are you out and about tonight? I’m always happy to see you, but I thought Mary had some kind of party she was using to hold you hostage. ”
“That was last night, and I didn’t attend. I’m not much of a dancer anymore. ” He smiled, and the top of his scarred cheek disappeared under the edge of his eye patch. “I never liked parties much, anyway. ”
“Me either. But I hope it went well. ”
“I expect that it did. Now, let me ask you something: Have you heard about what happened to the Jefferson?”
A memory flickered at the back of Grant’s mind. He’d heard something that morning, part of a briefing that had piqued his interest. “The science center? They told me there was an explosion last night during the party. ”
“Correct. ”
“And you have people working out there, don’t you? That scientist from Alabama?” They’d met once or twice in passing at the Lincolns’ house. Grant recalled a quick, impatient colored man, with eyes too old for a man still in his thirties.
“Gideon, yes. That’s him. He was there when it happened. ”
“Dear God … did he survive?”
“Oh yes, yes indeed. Some of his work was lost, but he saved as much as he could. Quite a lot of information, considering. ”
“That fellow’s research … what was it about, again…?” Grant rooted around in his memory. “He’s teaching a machine to count, or something like that?”
“Something like that. ”
“Oh, wait, I remember: He was building a machine to solve all the problems that mankind can’t. Once upon a time, you would’ve argued that there were no such problems. You were such an optimist, Abe. You believed we could do anything. ”