Entanglement Read Free

crowded cafeteria after he had seen her loitering again near his door. She sat alone, looking mysterious and inscrutable … she ate from a fragrant, somewhat greasy bag that her mother had packed for her.
    â€œI noticed you were listening in on my presentation,” Peter said to her, diving into his burger and fries.
    â€œYes,” she answered. “Your class is very popular. Do you like cheese enchiladas?”
    He was stunned. No fawning; no bullshit. An immediate sense of intimacy between them. This, he would learn, was her way.
    â€œYes,” he answered, and she handed over two warm envelopes of melted cheese and spices that were among the best things he’d ever tasted in his life.
    After that, they ate beside each other often, sometimes barely speaking. But Manuela’s presence was powerful. Even when she was absent, Peter felt her at his side.
    Finally he asked her if she wanted to go out for a movie or dinner—activities that he thought were probably too conventional to suit her, and he’d been right.
    â€œNo movie, but I will take a stroll with you or cook for you, whatever you prefer,” she said as she presented her splendid white smile.
    It turned out that she possessed her own private genius; she knew trees by both their leaves and bark, birds by their songs and feathers. If you wanted to discern the patterns of stars or to identify a butterfly, she was the one to ask. Peter had never encountered anyone like her.
    Soon they were having dinner at her house almost every week, and afterward they took long walks, not returning until it was nearly dark. For a long time before he advanced to kissing her, she only let him hold her hand, and then eventually she let him stay the night in her tiny studio apartment. He fell in love with her with so little fanfare that he barely noticed it happening. Still, he had begun fantasizing a future with her; he imagined marrying her and living in a secluded farmhouse with their acutely beautiful daughters.
    Man proposes, God disposes. Whoever said that was a genius.
    Instead, Peter had continued with his life as before: working all hours on his research. He—and everyone else who worked at the lab—felt sure he was on the brink of a great new discovery. Some days he was so embroiled in his job that he neglected to return Manuela’s calls.
    He would make it up to her, he told himself; yet later, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever told her how much he loved her.

CHAPTER 3
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    Across town on a side street stood a white brick warehouse with “100” written in blue masking tape on the side. During the neighborhood’s heyday, milk bottles in thick glass and unusual shapes had been manufactured inside that building. For decades after the company went under, it had stood vacant, until a local businessman bought it for student apartments. Now it was carved into cavernous living spaces and art studios—a sanctuary for the town’s bohemians, artists, and musicians.
    The driving beat of tribal/techno music blended with rain beating down on the rambling old building. As usual, a raging party was going this weekend.
    The large open space was divided by curtains and occupied by different factions. A group of young men practiced a fire performance, spinning poles, chains, and other objects; another group sat huddled together discussing world affairs. Bits and pieces of conversation could be heard in the din.
    â€œA couple of people, like in Egypt, they make it look like a bad thing,” a young man with elaborate facial piercings was saying.
    â€œIs it all programming, or is there something to the energy of the actual location?”
    In another section, filled with plants, trees, and indoor fountains, a girl with long braids, Alma, stood reading poetry aloud to a circle of friends, turning it into a performance piece with sudden moments of dancing. And under a parachute canopy, another group of kids drank,