Blue Gemini

by Mike Jenne

  Tew stared at his desk, stomach churning, silent in his thoughts. No, cowboy, it wasn’t quite that simple.

  “You okay, Mark? You ain’t sufferin’ another spell, are you?”

  “I’m fine. Look, Virgil, leave Ourecky’s schedule alone. I’ll handle this situation myself.”

  “Suit yourself, pardner. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

  19

  HUMAN NATURE

  Apex Minerals Exploration Inc., Dayton, Ohio

  8:30 a.m., Thursday, August 22, 1968

  Arriving at the Apex building, Henson checked his watch. He and two classmates had rented a modest apartment a few miles away. It wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, and had few amenities, but it was tolerable and far cheaper than living out of a motel.

  Henson fastidiously watched his cash flow and still had a sizeable reserve held back. Some of his fellow students were not quite as fortunate. As he strolled down the narrow hallway toward the classroom, he glimpsed the small office that three of them now shared as a bedroom. In a brief spate of living the high life, the three had blown through the majority of their allotments. Now, the destitute trio was reduced to sleeping on the concrete floor, scrounging for meals and bathing out of the sink in the locker room.

  Henson was sure that they would soon join the headstrong man who had smirked at Grau’s admonitions to avoid women while operational. After squandering away the contents of his briefcase, he begged Grau for more cash. Instead, Grau sent him packing posthaste to Wright-Patterson, where he was sworn back into the Air Force before receiving his back pay, exactly as promised, along with a one-way ticket to a lonely radar station located in a remote corner of the frigid Alaskan wilderness. Maybe that was Grau’s last lesson for the lothario, thought Henson. Two years among the polar bears might finally teach him to keep his id in check.

  Henson took his seat in the classroom, and carefully unwrapped a fried egg sandwich. Listening to the persistent buzz of the light fixture above his head, he slowly ate half the sandwich. Even though his stomach still growled with hunger pangs, he handed the remainder to one of the three squatters. The famished man thanked Henson profusely before gobbling down the morsel. Henson closed his eyes and listened to the measured sound of water dripping into the coffee can in the corner. Unlike most of the men under Grau’s tutelage, he had once been a college student, so he didn’t need too many lessons on stretching a buck.

  Well within his budget for the week, he even considered splurging on a Saturday matinee ticket to see Planet of the Apes at a theater downtown. Of course, that was contingent on whether he completed his Saturday homework in time; Grau had tasked each man to photograph activities at a specific location. Henson made a mental note to speak to Grau about his particular target for the assignment.

  The steady drip was interrupted by a faint but familiar rhythm of scrapes and thumps. Henson recognized it as Grau’s cane, and opened his eyes. Patient as an old box turtle, Grau slowly made his way to the front of the classroom. He turned to face the class and started to speak, but launched into yet another protracted coughing spell. He wiped his mouth with a blood-tinged handkerchief and then put it away. His hands fluttered like leaves in a stiff wind.

  “Today we’re going to talk briefly about human nature,” said Grau weakly. His voice grew progressively stronger as he spoke. “Interacting with people has become a lost art, and the man who masters it stands to gain much. In your case, so long as you’re with Apex, you must develop the capacity to rapidly adapt to new environments, assess the people around you, and swiftly cultivate the relationships that will enable you to accomplish your mission.”

  Grau took a sip of water, slowly swirled it in his mouth, and spat it into the coffee can in the corner. “Before we venture too far, there is one critical lesson that I want you to lock into your heads: Learn to value people. Wherever you go, everyone you meet has worth. From the dirtiest beggar groveling in a gutter to a king seated high on a gilded throne, every single life has value, although it may only be to the person living it.

  “When you’re finally sent afield, you’ll be tasked to locate various types of resources, arrange for their use, and to gather information. For the most part, you will be on your own. As you roam the world, it’s important that you understand that every single person you meet is a potential key to obtaining the resources and information that you require. The faster that you connect with them, the faster that you will be able to encourage them to provide what you need.

  “Moreover,” said Grau, scratching his nose, “since this process requires that we make that initial personal connection, we should be aware that all humans share a common need, a common desire. What is this desire?”

  No one volunteered an answer.

  “Oh, come now,” urged Grau, tapping his cane on the floor. “What do all people desire?”

  “Are you looking for something out of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?” offered Henson. “Oh, so you’ve had an education, Mister Henson?” Grau said. “Hah, that’s a good college answer, but we need something that we can actually apply in the real world. So, here’s the answer: every person desires to be acknowledged.”

  “Acknowledged?” asked Henson.

  “That’s right. Think about it. Regardless of their station in life, everyone wants to be acknowledged for something. They may not consciously ask for it, but they desire it all the same. A crying baby desires to be acknowledged with a bottle or a dry diaper. A brilliant man may be remote in his wisdom, but yearns to be acknowledged for his intelligence. A beautiful woman may act aloof, but yet she also craves to be acknowledged for her beauty. A lowly janitor may strive to fade into the background, but he wants to be acknowledged for the floors he sweeps and the toilets he scrubs clean.

  “And when you’re hauled down into some murky basement and you’re facing a torturer who threatens to yank out your teeth with rusty pliers, you’ll unconsciously acknowledge him with your fear,” declared Grau. Momentarily grimacing, he closed his eye and rubbed his right cheek. “As I said, gentlemen, everyone desires to be acknowledged.

  “A simple gesture of acknowledgement is the first step toward making a connection. Let me tell you, with few exceptions, most people yearn for human contact. They absolutely ache to tell their story. But they’ve been conditioned to be passive, so they wait for someone to come along and make that connection. Just a simple word of acknowledgement can mean so much. And few things are as painful as the sting of constantly being ignored. And if you understand that, and you make it a consistent habit to speak to people and acknowledge them, if even only to demonstrate that you recognize their presence, then you’re well on your way to motivating people to do your bidding.”

  “So what?” asked a man to Henson’s right. “What difference does any of this make?” A couple of the others gasped quietly, amazed that anyone would dare clash with Grau. Henson recognized the challenger as the squatter who accepted his leftover sandwich scraps.

  “Good question,” answered Grau calmly. “Let’s imagine that I dispatch you to a developing country. Your first task is to locate a truck to move a heavy object—maybe a ton or so—from a remote location in the bush to a port, so that it can be loaded onto a freighter. Simple enough?”

  “Sure,” replied the man smugly. “I find a phone book, look in the yellow pages, find a pay phone, and make a few calls. Problem solved.”

  “Hah. But for most places you’ll go, there are no yellow pages, and few phones, if any.”

  “Okay. So I just start asking people where to rent a truck,” countered the man.

  “And you’ll annoy them. And word will spread about the foreigner in town. People will shun you, primarily because you spring right off the blocks presenting yourself as a stranger who is pursuing an object, and who is not concerned or even curious about the people around him.”

  “Again, I say, so what?” retorted the man. “I’ll bet you anything that the word will eventually spread that I need to re
nt a truck, and someone will come to me with a truck to rent.”

  “Hah! You are correct,” replied Grau. “But here are two thoughts for you. First, this is a complicated business. You’ll rarely be sent anywhere with just one simple task. Most often, you’ll have a considerable number of resources to locate before a job is entirely complete.

  “Second, you must appreciate the nature of doing business in developing countries. Here, we are spoiled by the luxury of being able to directly ask for the object we seek. Outside our borders, it doesn’t work that way. You never ask for anything directly. Everything is indirect. You have to make the connection with someone and then spend the time, however long it takes, learning about the person’s family, where they’re from, their aspirations, etc., etc. Only then, and there’s really no good way to measure when ‘then’ will be, do you casually mention that you might be interested in hiring a truck. And that’s how things are accomplished in the Third World.”

  “I think I understand,” ceded the man. Henson sensed that the man really didn’t understand but was just abandoning his futile assault on Grau’s logic. Henson had noticed that the man, like the others who had been in the military for a few years, were the slowest to grasp what Grau was teaching them. They were apparently too engrained with the regimented military approach to doing things, where everything was simply black and white, and they weren’t too inclined to venture out into ambiguous realms of gray.

  “Good,” said Grau. “Now, most of the connections you’ll make will be very superficial. In some instances, though, you’ll need to develop a deeper interaction, because what you may require may not be nearly as simple as renting a truck or hiring a few strong backs to clear rocks from an airstrip. Developing this relationship will require you to assess the person to determine what motivates them, what makes them tick. In doing so, you’ll learn what you’ll need to nudge them in the direction you want them to go.

  “What you most need to learn is how and when to apply the nudge,” continued Grau. “And that’s not something that I can readily show you. It must be learned with experience. In theory, with very few exceptions, virtually anyone can be enticed to do anything. It just comes down to giving them the appropriate nudge that convinces them to do your bidding.”

  Grau continued: “Now, if you’re trying to motivate someone to do something illegal, immoral, or otherwise contrary to their interests, a significant nudge will likely be required.”

  “So, Mr. Grau, how do we know how much is enough?” asked the man sitting to Henson’s left.

  “You listen,” replied Grau. “And you pay attention. Much of this comes with experience, but what you’re trying to determine is your subject’s threshold.”

  “Threshold?” asked the man. “So you’re implying that everyone has a price?”

  “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t,” asserted Grau. “But don’t assume that a nudge will always involve money, because often something far more subtle will suffice. I’ll tell you, motivating people with money often creates more problems than it solves, because you immediately and permanently reduce your interaction to a financial transaction.”

  11:35 a.m.

  As the class broke for lunch, Henson waited for Grau. Since most of the men headed to the little diner at the end of the block, which had only five stools at the counter, there was usually a frantic rush for the door when Grau cut them loose. Only a few moments passed before Henson and the old man were alone in the dingy room. “Mr. Grau?” he said quietly.

  “Mr. Henson,” replied the old man, gazing up. “Something on your mind?”

  Henson nodded. “It’s about my weekend photography project, sir. You assigned me to photograph kids playing at a playground in Walnut Hills. Are you familiar with that area?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I guess you know that this part of Walnut Hills is a white neighborhood.” Surely Grau knows that this is a mistake, thought Henson, especially since he had given most of the other men assignments at industrial sites, bus stations, and similar locales. “I don’t want to question your judgment, Mr. Grau. But I’m more than a little concerned about this assignment.”

  “You are?” Grau said, raising his eyebrows as if he was surprised.

  “Maybe you’re missing my point, sir,” said Henson, in the calmest voice he could muster. “You’re asking me, a black man, to photograph children in a white neighborhood on a Saturday morning. There’s sure to be some parents around, and they’re likely to make plenty of assumptions. None of those assumptions can be good. On one hand, they might decide I’m some kind of child molester, and on the other hand, they may think I’m an advance scout for the Black Panthers, and that we’re cooking up a scheme to snatch their kids. In any event, I would rather not end up facedown in the gutter with my skull smashed open.”

  Grau studied Henson with his solitary eye. It was so unmoving and emotionless that Henson would have guessed it to be glass, except that he knew that wasn’t possible. The corners of Grau’s cracked lips turned up ever so slightly, almost like a faint smile. “No, Mister Henson, maybe you’re missing my point. Your task is to take your pictures without drawing undue attention to yourself. So I suggest that you be careful.”

  Knowing that his assignment would not be changed, Henson shook his head. “I’ve learned a lot here, Mister Grau,” he observed, starting to turn away. “And I’m sure that I still have much to learn. But there’s one thing you’ll never understand, and that’s what it’s like to be a black man in a white world, to always be an outsider who can never blend in.”

  “Oh, is that what this fuss is about?” scoffed Grau, fishing a photograph out of his wallet. It was a faded black-and-white picture of a younger Grau and a strikingly beautiful black woman. The woman wore a distinctive dress, like a kaftan common to West Africa, and looked to be roughly ten years younger than Grau. “That’s my wife, Henson, God rest her soul. I met her not long after the War, when I was posted in Dakar. So I know just a bit about being an outsider.”

  Henson studied the photograph for a moment, noticing that the younger Grau’s face held two eyes, and then replied, “You’ve made your point. But tell me, why do you insist on giving me the most difficult assignments? For once, can’t I land something just a little easier, maybe something like you give the other guys?”

  Flipping up his eye patch, Grau scratched the pink interior of the vacant socket and chuckled quietly. As much as it bothered him to gaze into Grau’s intact eye, it really unnerved Henson to look into the empty hole where once an eye had been. Almost as if on cue, a fly landed on Grau’s cheek. Passive as a monk, the old man didn’t even flinch as the fly slowly crawled along his face and then disappeared into the dark void.

  “Hah! Feeling a bit challenged, are we? Want an easier task?” Grau leaned forward, gave him a gentle nudge, and quietly said, “No. Prove yourself, Mr. Henson.”

  Simulator Facility, Aerospace Support Project

  9:10 a.m., Friday, August 23, 1968

  “Okay, gents, let’s chat,” said Wolcott. “We need to sort out a few things. Gunter?”

  “Ja?” Heydrich apprehensively leaned back in his chair as if anticipating a firing squad’s fusillade.

  “Pard, I still want you to continue training the other two crews in the Box, but the priority is to support these two gentlemen so they can complete a forty-eight-hour full-up before January.” Wolcott gestured to Carson and Ourecky, who were seated at the end of the table. Are we square, Gunter?”

  “Ja. We are, Virgil,” replied Heydrich.

  “Carson, your job is to bring Captain Ourecky up to speed on the procedures and the Box. I want you to draw up a tentative schedule and have it on my desk by next Friday. Square, pard?”

  Carson nodded obediently. “Will do, Virgil.”

  “And Ourecky, buster, make no mistake: you’re the little engine that’s pulling this whole danged railroad. I need you to do exactly what Carson says to do, so we can hit this mark by January to move
on to the flight phase. If we fail, gents, it’s over. Savvy? Any issues?”

  “Ourecky will need a suit,” observed Carson. “The criteria for that forty-eight-hour simulation require that we’re suited up in full mission gear.”

  Like a Fleet Street tailor sizing up a client, Wolcott eyed Ourecky. “He’s about Agnew’s size, ain’t he? We’ll wrangle that one, pardner. I’ll call Joel today to make the necessary arrangements. Anything else?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Then you gentlemen need to get to work.”

  “Sit down,” said Carson, taking a seat on the metal steps leading up to the simulator.

  “This is not my idea, sir,” asserted Ourecky. “I want you to know that.”

  “I know,” replied Carson, wringing his hands. “Look, Ourecky, I don’t like this situation, but I promised the boss that I would put forth my absolute best effort to make it happen. Where I come from, a man’s word is all he has. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t like you, and I really don’t care what you think about me, but I want you to promise me that you’ll put forth your best effort between now and January, and that you’ll do what I ask you to do. Agreed?”

  Ourecky nodded.

  “No,” growled Carson. “That’s not good enough. Promise. Out loud, Ourecky.”

  “Okay, Major Carson. I promise to put forth my best effort. I will do what you ask me to do.”

  “Good. First, I expect you to learn every inch of the vehicle, inside and out. I know you’ve been studying already, but we’re going to set aside the books and spend our time with metal. We’ll stay in the cockpit until I am absolutely confident that you know it intimately.”

  Unwrapping a stick of gum, Carson continued. “Then I’ll tie a blindfold on you and you’re going to show me that you know it with the lights out. When I’m comfortable that you know the vehicle and you know the procedures backwards and forwards, then we’ll commence with the simulations, but not until then.”