Learning to Swear in America Read Free Page A

was what made it hard. They had to account for the rotation of Earth, the speed and rotation of the incoming body, the gravitational pull of the moon, for solar flares, for mass and speed and Earth’s tilt on its axis. He didn’t think the asteroid wouldpass one of the points of Lagrange, but it would be a pretty good idea to check. Even the Coriolis effect would slightly alter the missiles’ trajectory if they were leaving from Earth. Did the Americans have missiles stationed in space? Someone had to choose the weaponry, and the angle of fire, and the exact moment of launch.
    And the calculation had to be precise, because although the asteroid was big for space junk, it had to be struck in the right spots or the wreckage would be too big to burn on entry into Earth’s atmosphere. And then there would be multiple points of impact.
    And it was moving so fast.
    Yuri read the whole problem through, front to back, twice. No time for a misunderstanding—there would be no second chance. His group had a small but complex calculation to make. There were multiple variables and no ability to experiment. He was a theoretical physicist, anyway—a math guy, not a lab rat, but it was the kind of problem that would normally take him a couple of hours to write out. A semester to solve. What they were doing here was more like working a crossword puzzle. Jot some things in, and hope that last word would fit.
    He set to work, and when he glanced up and saw the round institutional clock on the opposite wall, he was shocked at how much time had passed. He stretched and walked down to the conference room and its beverages and pastries. At least the decanters were standing still.
    Yuri poured himself a cup of tea. A woman nodded to him.She had to be seventy, her steel-gray hair pulled back in a neat bun.
    Yuri poured a coffee for her.
    She smiled faintly and took the cup from his hand. “Dr. Strelnikov, you’re not a waiter. Do what you do best.” She inclined her head and walked off.
    A girl walked into the room. Yuri gaped at her, his hand tightening on the decanter he still held. She clearly didn’t belong here, but she didn’t seem to know it. Or maybe she just didn’t care. She was about his age, shorter than average and not a thin girl. Her bangs were yellow, not blond, against dark hair and they stuck straight up. He had a sudden certainty that in an algebra equation, she would be the unknown x.
    Her dark eyes took him in, standing at the refreshment table, and as she smiled and started toward him, he felt a moment of irrational panic. She was wearing a sundress and those shoes with just a V of plastic between your toes, and long, dangly earrings that swung when she walked. He didn’t know anything about jewelry, but he was pretty sure there should be no dangling in a NASA building.
    Yuri’s genius did not extend to social relations in the best of times. This girl—he’d never seen anything like her. How did one talk to American girls? And she was walking straight toward him.
    A guard cut over and intercepted her.
    “Miss? You have business here?” He was curt.
    “Um, I’m waiting for my father.”
    “He work here?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “John Collum.”
    Yuri shifted so he could see her past the guard.
    “Where’s his office?”
    “Um. He’s a janitor.”
    “Not in this building.” The man said it as though pronouncing a prison sentence.
    “No, he’s down in …”
    “Why don’t you wait outside, miss?”
    He didn’t say it as a question, and he took a step forward. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but Yuri felt a flash of anger. If the guard had to keep her out, he could have been … nicer. The girl turned and went outside, her shoes flapping as she walked. Yuri put the decanter down and stepped forward so he could see out the conference room door. She walked down the steps and sat on the edge of a planter in front of the building. Where janitors’ daughters could sit, apparently.
    Yuri