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Those were the kinds of idiots he’d had to constantly be fending off.

As for the folks on his side (the free-market side, the pro-progress side), if they’d found some value in it? Having seen it as a road map, a blueprint, a much-needed, long-overdue bit ofpushback to those who preferred to yellhaltat anyone actually trying todoa thing instead of just ignorantly yapping about it? The knee-jerk objectors, the panty twisters, the doom sobbers?

He’d take that.

He was proud of it.

Took cojones to speak a difficult truth.

To wade in against the prevailing tide.

The pain that had tormented him all evening had slightly receded in the face of these happy memories.

That was Aarhus? I said.

I can’t believe you never heard of it, he said. Where’d you live? Under a rock? How old were you? When you croaked? A newborn?

Frankness on my part might sometimes encourage a corresponding frankness on the part of my charge.

Twenty-two, I said. Indiana.

Married? he said. Kids?

Yes, I said. No.

What’d you do? he said. For work?

Phone operator, I said. Waitressed a little.

Ever go anywhere? he said. Other than Indiana?

Ohio once, I said. They had the state fair over there.

How? he said. How’d you go?

Drove, I said.

No, how’d you die, dummy, he said.

Got blown up, I said.

Like, exploded? he said. Hoo boy. There’s one you don’t hear every day. Blown up. In Indiana.

Yes, I said.

By? he said.

Enemy of my husband’s, I said. By mistake.

Hold on, he said. You got blown up by mistake? By some enemy of your—He thought he was blowing up hubby and got you instead?

Correct, I said.

I waited for the cruel joke that must be forthcoming.

But his mind had drifted back to Dell.

Because he found me dull.