the topic, hoping it would distract his uncle. “Will all the women be at the symposium for Engineering into the Next Millennium?”
“Ridiculous title,” Pretorius muttered.
“Agreed. Stay on target. Will they be there?”
“I made sure of it. Two weren’t planning to attend, but I—” He hesitated. “Let’s just say I arranged for them to change their mind.”
Justice knew better than to request specifics. “Excellent.”
“Talk to me, boy. Why? Why are you doing this?”
Justice shook his head, not certain he could put it into words. He attempted to coax the cylinder into a double helix while struggling to give voice to the realization he’d made after his accident. How did he explain the nothingness that had become his life over the past few years? Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt any emotion, whether anger or happiness or something—anything—in between.
With each passing day his feelings, the drive to invent, even his ambition had slowly iced over. While each minute ticked relentlessly by, everything that made him a “normal”—and he used the word in its loosest possible context—living, breathing human eked away. Soon only a cold, hard shell of a man would remain. He tossed Rumi aside, frustrated by its refusal to assume a clean-cut functional shape.
“It’s just something I need you to accept,” Justice finally said. “For my sake.”
“Call and cancel,” Pretorius urged. “Before you do something we both regret.”
“I can’t do that. I’m the keynote speaker.”
Pretorius switched gears. “What in the bloody hell are you supposed to say about engineering into the next millennia? That’s a thousand damn years. It’s impossible to predict whether there will even be a human race in a thousand years, let alone the status of engineering over that period of time.”
“And you claim I swear a lot.”
“What can I say? Your vices are rubbing off on me. Justice, you haven’t made a public appearance in five years. This isn’t the time to change that.”
“I haven’t made a public appearance in five years because I haven’t had a damn thing worth saying for five years. When I do have a damn thing worth saying, I’ll start making public appearances again. Until then, I can manage one little symposium without falling flat on my face.”
“The media will be all over this one little symposium now that your name is connected with it. After such a lengthy absence they’ll expect you to offer something of vital significance. I don’t suppose you have something of vital significance to say to them?”
Justice waved that aside. “Don’t worry about my speech, old man. I’ll make something up. The ironic part is, if I claim it’s possible, some fool in the audience will believe me and go out there and invent it. Win, win.”
“But why? Just give me one good reason why you’re doing this.”
Justice dropped a hand to his uncle’s shoulder with a sigh. He knew going into this would be hard on Pretorius, but something had to change. Now. Before time overcame opportunity. “I haven’t invented anything in a solid year.”
“Your creativity is just blocked. We can find a way to unblock it without going to such extremes.”
“I don’t see how it’s possible for my creativity to be blocked since I don’t possess any. I’m an engineer.”
This time Pretorius sighed. “Inventors are creative people, Justice.”
“That’s a damn lie and you know it. Now take it back.” It was a running joke between them, but for some reason it lacked its usual humor. Maybe because he found it more and more difficult to laugh about his current situation.
“I understand that you need a woman. I don’t object to that. Go … go find someone.” To Justice’s amusement the tips of Pretorius’s ears turned bright red. “Let nature take its course. Once it has, you can come back all refreshed and revitalized.”
“It’s not that simple. I need—”
How did he explain? Ever since the accident he realized he needed more than just some temporary woman. More than a single night, or even a month of single nights. He longed for something permanent. Something enduring. Something that he could count on today and tomorrow and next month and next year. Someone who gave a damn. Someone he could call when … if—
“Mr. St. John? Is there someone we should notify?” Those words continued to haunt him, even after all these months. As did his answer, “No.” There was no one.
“I need more,” Justice whispered.
His uncle fell silent, then nodded, reading between the lines. He understood the subtext, even if he was reluctant to accept it. “It means you’ll have to stop swearing so much. Granted, it would make for a nice change.”
Justice’s mouth twitched. “I’ll work on that,” he assured gravely.
“It would also mean we’d have some decent food around here.” Pretorius warmed to the idea. “And a clean house.”
“Somehow I don’t think the woman I marry would appreciate knowing I picked her because I needed a housekeeper with privileges.” Justice leaned over his uncle’s shoulder and pushed a button. The laser printer sprang to life, shooting out sheet after sheet of material. “Which brings me back to my main concern. If I marry, you’ll have to put up with her, too. You’ve read the information on these women. Can you handle one of them living here permanently?”
Pretorius frowned. “Is that why you haven’t married before this? Were you worried about how I’d react to having our home invaded?”
Invaded. Justice suppressed a sigh. This was going to be a tough sell. “No, I haven’t married because I’ve never found someone I could tolerate for longer than a week.”
His uncle nodded morosely. “That’s where my computer program comes in, I assume? I’ve done my best to transform the Pretorius Program from a business application to a more personal one. The parameters remain similar. Finding the perfect wife isn’t all that different from finding the perfect employee.”
“Exactly. It just requires inputting different data.” He ran through his requirements. “An engineer, therefore rational and in control of her emotions. Brilliant, of course. I can’t handle foolish women. Physically attractive would be a bonus. But she must be logical. Kind. Someone who won’t make waves. And she must be able to handle isolation.”
“I thought we were talking about a woman.”
“If she’s an engineer, chances are she’ll already possess most of those qualities. More important, she’ll fit in around here.”
“Okay, fine.” Pretorius straightened, assuming a professional attitude. “If you’re determined to go through with this, I’ve narrowed the choices down to a half-dozen women, all of whom will be attending the symposium.”
“With a little help from you.”
“That
