The Pollinators of Eden by John Boyd Read Free Book Online Page A

contributions to the suggestion box, as well as the number acted on by management personnel. Freda habitually placed at least two suggestions in the suggestion box at each administrative meeting. Currently her name led all the rest in both number of suggestions submitted and in number acted upon by the Suggestion Box Committee.
    All during her busy morning she had been sustained and soothed by the duckings, cooings, and whistlings of the surviving tulip. When time for the meeting approached, she left for the administration hall with little remaining of her hangover except a throbbing in her temples and a tendency for the world to expand and contract slightly.
    She stopped by her room to wiggle into her tailored jersey, the conservative dress Doctor Gaynor favored in female department heads—thinking an added advantage might accrue to her in the student-rotation program. It was possible that Suzuki Hayakawa might be assigned to her, and she could use Suzuki’s deft hands in the cross-pollination program she planned for the tulips. It would be a task, if all sixty-two seeds germinated, but Japanese girls were docile, cheerful, and obedient. Her present student assistant, Mary Henderson, presently on term’s-end leave, was not trustworthy. Mary was a girl who would plant marihuana in the alien daisy patch if supervision grew slack.
    For Freda it was a morning of triumphs. Doctor Gaynor opened the administration session by listing the schedule for the week’s seminars by resident specialists on their findings on Flora. Next, a procedural question was raised relating to a complaint from the San Joaquin Land Company regarding the control of pollen. During last fall’s harvest, it had been discovered that pollen from an alien corn had crossed the fence into the San Joaquin Land Company’s cornfield, and the resulting hybrid had damaged their milling equipment. Freda rose to suggest that glycol carburetors be affixed to the nozzles of the irrigation spray to form a film over the Bureau’s pollen to prevent it from being airborne. Her suggestion was so apt and prompt that it was greeted by applause and passed unanimously.
    Next, during a lively discussion concerning the placement of refuse bins, Freda saw Doctor Gaynor’s secretary walk to the podium and hand him a slip of paper. He glanced at it, then rapped for attention and rose to announce: “My secretary, Mrs. Weatherwax, after two years on a standby status, has finally handed me a suggestion that student assistants be rotated on a semester rather than a term basis. As long as this does not conflict with the continuing project, I consider this action eminently advisable. Heretofore, I have not installed the policy by directive. I wanted the suggestion to spring from my management team, to reassure me of your awareness that the Bureau functions not only as a research-and-development arm of the Department of Agriculture, but as an educational facility as well. I shall recommend to the Suggestion Box Committee that this suggestion be passed forthwith, to enable us to commence graduate-student rotation with commencement of the next semester. For this long-awaited recommendation, I wish to commend Doctor Freda Caron.”
    As the audience cast glances in her direction, Freda knew a rough morning was slipping into a sweet afternoon. She had no idea how sweet until Doctor Gaynor announced, “After we’ve adjourned, I wish to see Doctor Freda Caron, head of the Department of Cystology, and Doctor James Berkeley, head of the Department of Psychiatry, in my office.”
    Since she couldn’t assist in the placement of trash bins, Freda left the hall and went to take an aspirin, continuing on to Doctor Gaynor’s office. Mrs. Weatherwax, small but motherly, gray but efficient, waved her into the inner office with a smile of greeting. Inside, she found Doctor Berkeley had arrived ahead of her and was slumped in a chair, working a crossword puzzle. “Hi, Freda,” he said. “Reach any