SYNCHRONICITY

From the R.M. Dolin novel, “An Unsustainable Life – The Book of Darwin.”

Chapter 20: Synchronicity

Synchronicity – the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection. A meaningful coincidence where unrelated events align to offer
guidance, confirmation, or a push toward one’s path. – Concept introduced by Carl Yung

It’s no coincidence the café crowd’s cliché, but everything else appears to be quasi-normal, at least as far as any reasonable observer can discern. Predawn patrons have long since departed for jobs and other obligations, replaced by a ten o’clock crew consisting of Taos tourists hoping to impress, east coast retirees reveling in rumors, and idle trust-funders inventing ways to escape another day’s boredom. The chaos of ambient chatter stifles casual conversation, which is why the out of place couple sitting in silence at a two-person table along the back wall have nothing to say even though there’s so much needing to be said.

“That’s him,” Eloise whispers as she discretely gestures toward the out-of-place couple along the back wall using her jewelry-adorned hand that’s wrapped around a new-age coffee mug.

“No way,” Darcy doubts, unable to keep from gawking.

“Don’t look!” Eloise forcefully hushes. She discretely glances toward the back wall, “it’s him alright, no doubt about it.”

Eloise has a happy-hippie look that she pulls of as well as any mid-forties trust-funder can. Her pleated flower-print smock is tightly tied around her waist by a turquoise inlaid silver concho belt that mostly matches her fashion cowboy boots and highlights her well-trained figure. A colorful Arizona red silk scarf weaves around her head holding up strands of unmanaged hair hinting at traces of natural color. She plays with a long strand that’s fallen in front of her face as a veiled way to steal closer looks at the quiet couple. “He’s definitely the guy I was telling you about at Denali’s party.”

Darcy brushes back her beach-bottle blonde hair while decidedly dunking her second gluten-free biscochito in a large cappuccino containing extra cream and sugar free shots of caramel and biscotti syrup. “No way he’s the richest man in Taos.”

“For reals,” Eloise double downs, “Derick told me and he ought to know, he’s playing his latest round of ‘perhaps and pretend,’ with a woman at the tax office.”

“I’ve seen him around,” Darcy confirms, staring with less discretion than her friend, “he’s the crazy hermit driving that beat-up old truck who never talks to anyone and has a dog that’s not never on leash. I don’t know if I should be more afraid of him or his dog, but I definitely cross the street whenever either comes toward me.” Darcy permits herself another subtle look, “If he’s as rich as you say, why would he live in a wilderness shack, dress like he’s homeless, and drive an old worthless truck?”

“Same reason Howard Hughes peed in bottles, the more they got the weirder they get.” Eloise states while stealthily stealing another glance at this odd hermit and his unlikely guest. “From what I hear, that ‘shack’ he lives in is anything but, they say it’s the most state-of-the-art house in all Taos County, something that’s taken him years to build.” She leans in and whispers, “they say he used to be an engineer or some such thing, and he chooses to live off grid. I heard he has this massive solar farm, so he’s gotta be up to something. What if he’s some kind of international spy and the whole hermit thing’s just his cover. Or maybe, he’s running a vast crime ring for the cartels and they’re printing money in his basement while trafficking girls away from big brother’s watchful eyes.”

“I doubt it,” Darcy demurs, “He doesn’t look like he could hold down a job let alone be involved in some complex underground enterprise, He likely inherited his wealth.”

“Maybe that’s just how good he is.” Eloise takes a moment to further consider her conspiracy theory, “he’s a cartel kingpin with a perfect cover and he doesn’t just live in the wilderness, he lives in his wilderness; they say he owns an entire mountain just past Questa. I can’t remember the name, Manzano Mountain or some such thing.”

Darcy uses her phone to verify Eloise’s assertion. “According to Maps, Manzano Mountain is next to Albuquerque, where’d you say his place was?”

“Just north of Questa but before Colorado.”

Darcy refines her search. “There’s a Marquez Mountain around there.”

“That’s it!” Eloise excitedly confirms. “Apparently, he drifts into town many years ago on a Harley looking so road-weary the Realtor laughs when he says he wants to buy the entire mountain. She’s in the processes of rezoning the mountain into five-acre parcels but changes her tune mighty fast when he offers to pay the asking price in cash; that’s something only a cartel kingpin would do.”

“It does make sense,” Dacey decides. “There’s no way someone of his means would come all the way out here to live in isolation when he could be anywhere doing anything. Owning an entire mountain in the middle of nowhere provides ample opportunity to get away with pretty-much anything.” She discretely steals another glance seeing this hermit in a whole new light, “do you think he manufactures drugs or traffics people?”

“Both,” Eloise stoically states, “one always follows the other. It does though make me wonder about his woman; Denali says she manages that high-end gallery on the plaza next to the hotel. I’m betting he set it up for laundering money, selling art is the fastest and easiest way to clean dirty cash and let’s be real, it’s less than coincidental the country’s largest drug distribution hub is also the nation’s premier art mecca. One hand feeds the other, that’s what I say. Denali says they’ve been together a several years; she looks like a cartel girl if you ask me, either that or she’s one lucky local who’s won the lottery of life.”

“I don’t know about luck,” Darcy sardonically concludes. “Fortunate perhaps, as in fortune, but I prefer men a little less rugged, I can practically smell him from here.”

Eloise laughs, “lie to yourself all you want dear Darcy, for his kind of money those kinds of flaws can be overlooked.”

“We both know you can,” Darcy counters, “your last guy was a real doozy, and a tight ass.”

“True, but this guy’s different. Sure, everyone avoids him, I’ve seen people actually get out of line at the grocery store when he queues up.” Eloise steals another quick look at the dangerous couple, “there’s something different about him though; I haven’t quite put my finger on it but there’s definitely a dark mystery tied to how he acquires his wealth and what he does to maintain cash flow; he has an unsettled aura.

“Aura?” Darcy challenges.

“Yes, I read auras and his says he wants to do good but is caught up in something sinister; everything points to cartel evil. It’s quite the dichotomy really; locals love him, some say he’s a saint while others call him Dr. D., and yet he’s way back in the wilderness manufacturing drugs and forcing innocent women into prostitution. It’s like some bizarre Robin Hood with a tangled twist.”

“What if,” Darcy speculates fully on board with the conspiracy, “he’s trapped between two worlds; he wants out of his cartel life but hasn’t formulated an exit strategy that doesn’t get him killed? Either way, you really need to get a job, or at least a hobby.”

Eloise looks long and hard at the couple sitting in silence along the back wall of the casually cliché café no longer worried about being discrete. “A job’s clearly out of the question and he’s my new hobby, more of a borderline obsession. Denali says his name’s Darwin Olinski and he’s from Chicago; everything else about him is shrouded in mystery.” She smiles with sinister intrigue. “But I intend to unravel his mystery and whatever it is, I’m certain it’ll make the Unabomber look like a clumsy kid with a chemistry set.”

#

Darwin looks anxiously around the crowded café for the waiter who’s yet to make an appearance, which explains why he hasn’t taken off his coat; he’s giving the waiter three more minutes, then it’s adios amigos. The blowup that started while standing in the entryway waiting for a table continues in silence as they wait to order but silence is a quality of the patient and Darwin’s has been breached. He leans in so as not to be overheard, “I really don’t care what the hell Victor told you, he’s a crazy ass cabrón who likes creating drama, even when none exists.”

“Is he wrong?”

“Yes and no,” Darwin answers in his standard way. “Yes, an Asian woman lives with me, but only when she’s here.” Unfortunately, Darwin 2.0 doesn’t come equipped with the requisite technology to recognize how insanely stupid that sounds.

“I see,” his companion, who may or may not be a fortune seeking cartel girl involved in an elaborate money laundering scheme, sternly stews. She carefully considers her words, barely able to hold back her anger. “So, he’s right, you have a beautiful woman living with you.”

“But only when she’s here,” Darwin doubles down unable to discern the many ways he’s making a bad situation worse.

“And you seriously don’t see the problem?”

“Not really,” Darwin nonchalantly quips, “she worked for me back before Berkeley and has a start-up now I’m consulting for.”

“And that’s supposed to make it alright?”

“There’s nothing going on Anna. Jeez, didn’t Victor tell you Gabe’s also staying with me? He’s her happily married software engineer.”

“You got yourself a regular little technology commune going on out there at Rancho de Darwin don’t you, and no, Victor failed to pass along that little nugget of information.”

“See what I mean about the crazy ass cabrón, he does this on purpose you know.”

“I don’t know that he does!” Anna fires back with emotions no longer in check. “What I do know is-”

“Forgive my delay,” the hectic waiter interrupts as he rushes to their table. “And welcome back,” he adds as an afterthought, “Although as messed up as things are today, I wouldn’t blame you for leaving. My deepest apologizes, as you can see, we’re super slammed and Theresa didn’t show up, again, so it’s just me running around like a chicken with my head cut off.” He takes a long breath to gather himself before continuing. “What can I get ya, the breakfast burritos are next level.”

“One coffee with cream and sugar,” Anna abruptly states. “And -”

“One café with an extra shot of espresso,” the waiter interjects pleased to remember Darwin’s longstanding order.

“Make it a green tea,” Darwin corrects.

Anna and the waiter stare at this apparent stranger in disbelief. “You’ve been coming here for years, Señor,” the waiter stammers, “always ordering a café with an extra shot of espresso; in fact, last week you chastised me for even asking what you wanted.” He surveys the room before refocusing. “The trust-funders finally got to you, didn’t they?”

“No,” Darwin answers not realizing his green tea order has slammed an iceberg into the cafe’s collective conscientiousness. “I’m cutting back on caffeine.” He looks at Anna, then the waiter, then back to Anna, who are both too stunned for words. “You know, to be healthier,” he adds as an afterthought.

“They have gotten to you,” the waiter quips as he starts for the kitchen. “The chef’s definitely gonna wanna hear about this.”

As the waiter rushes to the kitchen with breaking news, Anna stares at Darwin in ongoing disbelief. “Nothing going on huh, your green tea tells a different story.”

“What story, pray tell?”

“Beautiful Asian woman moves in, yet you claim nothing’s going on; now all of a sudden, you’re drinking green tea, the evidence is pretty obvious.”

“Oh please,” Darwin dismissively responds. ‘A’ plus ‘B’ does not equal ‘C.’”

“If it quacks like a duck,” Anna states as flatly as a hanging judge at pretrial sentencing.

“Jeez Anna,” Darwin fires back, “you’re making-”

“Here we are folks,” the waiter interrupts, “one coffee, cream and sugar.” He sets Anna’s mug on the table. “And one green tea.” He tentatively places Darwin’s empty mug on the table; certain it will be rejected once this folly is exposed. When no objection is raised, he proceeds to set the tea pot down followed by a plate with a strainer on it. “You know how this works?” he asks.

“Yes,” Darwin snidely replies, “this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Or Asian girlfriend I’m guessing,” Anna adds with a dash of hostile disdain.

“Oh score,” the waiter contributes without concern for his diminishing tip. His smirk quickly fades though once he sees Darwin and Anna’s collective glare and realizes he’s become an unwelcome interloper in a private conflict. Without saying a word or making a gesture, the waiter abruptly twirls around and retreats to the kitchen to provide updated intel on what’s quickly becoming the kind of epic café saga the chef lives for.

Anna patiently watches Darwin drain the contents of his tea pot through the strainer and into his mug, allowing her anger to percolate. He squirts honey in next with one hand while stirring the tea with practiced fluidity causing Anna’s anger to boil over. “You got an awful lot of explaining to do.”

Darwin tries his tea while deciding how much he needs to temper his response. “I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter,” he calmly states, “you either trust me or you don’t, it’s that simple.”

“The jury’s still deliberating,” Anna quickly volley’s back, “but I assure you, there’ll be no mistrials in this matter.”

#

It’s a relatively calm afternoon at Casa del Darwin, even Murphy, who never gives up chasing squirrels, gophers, or anything that moves on all fours, has decided it’s better to siesta on cool courtyard flagstone than practice other, more productive, pursuits. Darwin’s been busy in the command center since getting back from town trying to reboot a server that went down during last night’s thunderstorm. Current thinking is the outage was caused by an electrical surge from a bolt of lightning striking the stainless-steel rod he erected in the middle of his solar panel field. He installed the lightening rod believing it would prevent solar panels being struck and assumed that as intense energy dissipates into the ground it wouldn’t affect subterranean electronics. He apparently miscalculated the extent command center walls with their rebar-reinforcement and the roof with its metal cover and metal trusses would act as a Faraday Cage protecting internal devices. Getting servers knocked out is clearly troublesome but making such an enormous engineering miscalculation is unpardonable, as is having to now rethink surge protection counter measures, all of which has Darwin in a foul mood and the last thing he needs to deal with is spill-over from this morning.

“Why would you invite her?” Tien demands to know as she watches Darwin work. “We agreed on minimal outside contact.”

Darwin pokes his head around the server rack. “That applies to you and rest of the crew, you more than anyone would draw unnecessary attention.”

“Because I’m Asian?” Tien fumes in faux offense.

Darwin smiles as a measure meant to meter his response. “I was gonna go with, too pretty not to stand out.” He immediately returns to work but just as quickly stops. “You’re seen in town once; you’re a transit tourist. In town twice you’re a resident artist or trust-funder every eligible man wants to know better and every woman won’t stop gossiping about. Me on the other hand, I live here, nobody cares two licks about my comings and goings and no one’s gonna be gossiping about me; if anything, folks go out of their way to avoid me.”

“Except for Anna who suddenly seems to care an awful lot about your comings and goings.” Tien pauses to channel her anger. “But thanks, I guess, for the complement, backhanded as it may have been, no woman ever tires of hearing she’s pretty.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Darwin says as he comes around the server rack to more closely examine his miscalculated surge protector. “Just so we’re clear, (a) I didn’t so much invite her as she demanded to come, and (b) you have a lot to learn about the way things work in Northern New Mexico; you show up in Taos, and trust me, before you’re finished picking your way through the limited Asian isle at the health food store, every valley resident’s got a theory about why you’re here, and not the kind that beings with, “they’re old college colleagues catching up as she passes through town.”

“I haven’t ever even been to town, not once since the first time when I had to ask for directions, and why didn’t you mention the health food store has an Asian section?”

“Cause we’d be eating Dim Sum every night.”

“What’s wrong with Dim Sum?”

Darwin considers the question. “Nothing, in fact I rather like it, just not every night. Besides, if you start cooking Chinese, how you ever gonna learn to make pierogies?”

“I would have thought after the way things went at your last cooking class you’d have given up on that pipe dream.”

“We Poles are committed to propagating the culture.” Darwin walks over to the conference table in the middle of the command center with Tien in pursuit. He starts looking over an electrical diagram while she sits opposite Darwin beside Gabe, who’s diligently working on his laptop pretending not to pay attention. “I didn’t mention the Asian food section because you’d have been all over it and I didn’t need you traipsing around Taos. Just so you know though, in this instance it was Taos coming to you.”

“Say again?” Tien prods.

Darwin looks up from his diagram, “no matter how much you avoid him, and no matter how much I attempt to redirect him, Victor has a way of interacting with you whenever you’re here, he has some sick sense about the comings and goings of everyone in the valley. On top of that, he’s the valley’s biggest gossip and is literally related to pretty much every local in some way or another. And, he likes creating mischief, it amuses him.”

“So why keep him around?”

“He’s my ‘go-to’ guy; no matter what needs doing, he’s got a cousin, or nephew, or some distant relative who can do the job; that makes him invaluable. Besides, once you get beyond his obvious character flaws, he’s a damn good friend, my first friend here actually. He’s the one who planted the idea in Anna’s head about you and I being lovers.”

“Lovers!” Tien shouts, outraged at such an outlandish accusation. “I’m half your age.”

Rather than be insulted, Darwin’s amused. “You really have a lot to learn about what’s socially acceptable here.” He returns to studying his diagram while assessing his bruised engineering ego, deciding he’s not going to let lightning get the better of him. “Just so we’re mathematically precise,” he tells her without looking up, “you weren’t half my age when we met, so you definitely aren’t now. Besides, according to the social ‘Half Your Age Plus Seven Rule,’ you’re well within my wheelhouse; if I were so inclined.”

“So inclined!” Tien shouts getting more insulted with each twist and turn, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

As Darwin’s prone to do when distracted, he answers without the full benefit of thinking things through. “You’re a beautiful woman but I would find being romantically involved with you exhausting.”

“Exhausting!” Tien fires back. “You just keep digging mister and that’s the only warning you’re gonna get.”

Warnings are generally appreciated by people who heed warnings; unfortunately, those people aren’t Darwin. “What I mean is, you’re too much like me, cause, you know, the whole opposites attract thing. It’s like right now, I’m quickly realizing there’s a right thing to say in this moment, but damn if I can figure out what it is, and it’s, well, exhausting.”

“Fair enough,” Tien concedes, “I know how precious your energy is. Besides, you couldn’t keep up with me no matter how much energy you conserve.”

“Hold on now,” Darwin counters having given up on his diagram, “Anna’s younger than you and I keep up with her just fine.”

“Oh boy,” “Tien groans in exacerbation. “Do you purposely throw kerosene on bonfires or does it just serendipitously happen!” She takes a moment to collect herself. “Either way, I’m gonna do us both a favor and not take the bait.” Rather than advocate toward that goal, Tien reconsiders who’s going to get the last word, “younger than me, my ass you cradle robber.”

“What the hell happened to not taking the bait,” Darwin queries. “And if we’re keeping score, I seem to recall the last train wreck you dated was older than me.”

“My point exactly.”

“I’m not sure how we got there, but okay.”

Tien decides having the last word isn’t worth it. “Let’s get back to your locals, you’re sure they know nothing about what’s going on here?”

“As far as they’re concerned, you and Gabe have a start-up back in California I’m helping with; everything before Berkeley we tell the truth about, after that we stay on script. Anna knows how we met and how you came to work for me, but she knows nothing about your family history.”

“What history,” Gabe interjects taking a break from programing to have another bite of his sandwich that’s been sitting on the table half-eaten since the server first went out.

“Nothing,” Tien abruptly answers realizing he’s been sitting here the whole time, “just your classic coming to America saga.” She nervously opens her laptop hoping that satiated his need for information she’s unwilling to provide. “Let’s get to work shall we,” she nervously asserts, “we’ve already wasted the entire morning.”

“Not me,” Gabe quips between bites of his crunchy-bread sandwich, “been here since four this morning finishing the subroutine we hacked on all day yesterday. Got her purring like a puppy.”

“Puppies don’t purr,” Tien scolds.

“Either way,” Gabe joyfully smiles back, “yeah for me.” He reads the tension filled room with disappointment, “or not yeah for me,” he quietly mumbles to himself while diving back into his laptop.

#

Anna arrives with far less fanfare than one might expect for an entanglement containing vestiges straight from the chapters of ‘The Art of War.’ Of course, the lack of fanfare might be because Happy Hour started an hour earlier with potential sharp edges having the clarity of their cut honed to softer settings. That being said, when two women are about to square off over matters men have little to no understanding of, the most important thing for men to recognize is it’s best to get the hell out of the way of the oncoming tsunami.

“Everyone,” Darwin announces as he steps into the courtyard with a fresh cocktail in one hand and the guest of honor in the other. “May I present Anna Vigil for your dining and dancing pleasure.” He bows with a large sway of his free hand like a noble at court sloshing bourbon onto the flagstone not noticing Anna’s scowl. “You perhaps may not know this, but aside from being a noted scholar of fine art, Anna’s father is the internationally acclaimed artist Antonio Vigil, whose works are displayed at the world’s most prestigious museums and galleries.”

“Darwin, please,” Anna scolds, “How many times have I told you to stop introducing me that way.”

“Sorry, Hon, I’m just proud of you is all.” Darwin stumbles awkwardly trying to reset the tone. “A toast,” he declares while raising his glass and waiting for everyone to raise theirs. “To all the famous people we know and might have known, if only we knew while we knew them, they were famous.”

“Here! Here!” Gabe bellows his full support. Meanwhile, Anna and Tien look on with deep disapproval. Gabe seizes upon Darwin’s segue by offering his hand to Anna. “I’m Gabriele,” he says as they shake.

“Like the archangel,” Anna replies with a warm smile.

“I seriously doubt that; I’m too much a sinner that enjoys too much a touch of the devil’s elixir, but only from time to time.”

“Which is most of the time,” Darwin adds with a laugh.

Gabe considers responding to Darwin’s jab but after careful review of the facts as presented, decides not to. “Folks who know me call me Gabe, on account of that’s what my mom calls me; until I mess up that is, then its Gabriele Ryan McDaniel Monaghan.”

“Well,” Anna says uncertain what to make of that introduction, “you’re just one or two surnames short of being Spanish.”

“That I am,” Gabe says with a laugh. “Although, I’ve never met a Spaniard who can hold his liquor like an Irishman, but truth be told, I haven’t met them all.”

“I think we’re in the presence of an Irishman who can’t hold his liquor,” Darwin chimes in.

Gabe steadies himself in preparation to return volley, “In the words of my infamous forefather, John Paul Jones,” he boldly states, “Drinking is not what I do, it’s who I am.”

Darwin calmly sets the record straight, “I’m pretty sure John Paul Jones was neither Irish nor ever said that.”

“Tis truly a shame if there ever was one then.” Gabe proudly proclaims.

Silence quietly canvases the courtyard causing everyone a bit of discomfort that’s heightened by logistics given Gabe seems content to stand in front of Anna brandishing his devilish grin.

“Gabe?” Darwin gently prods.

“Huh?” Gabe says as he finishes his whiskey.

“Perhaps you’d be so kind as to step aside so Tien can introduce herself?”

“Oh!” Gabe says, suddenly aware he’s the reason for the moment’s awkwardness.

As Gabe steps aside, Tien steps up. “I’m Tien,” she announces with a warm smile and extended hand “you must forgive Gabe, he doesn’t mingle well.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Anna says while shaking hands. “More recently than one would expect given you and Darwin go way back.”

“Darwin’s never been one to talk shop outside of work, so I’m not surprised,” Tien says with an edge of subterfuge. “What does surprise me is how he rarely talks about you. I understand you two have been an item for a while now.”

As cordial as these ladies pretend to be, Darwin’s well versed on the serious sizing up that’s happening, the kind best done absent his participation. What he desperately needs is a diversion, something that excuses him until all the casualties of this conquest have been conquered.

“Darwin tells me you all used to work together,” Anna offers.

“Actually,” Tien says, “We worked for him; Gabe was head of software engineering and I led mathematics.”

“It’s never been clear to us what the hell Darwin does,” Gabe teases happy to have been given an opening to pay Darwin back for previous insults, “but paychecks didn’t bounce, so he’s adding value somewhere.”

“Ha, ha.” Darwin sarcastically quips, though secretly glad Gabe’s inserting humor into all this intensity. “I’m gonna check on dinner,” he segues while moving toward the kitchen, “and bring out some snacks, anybody need anything?” His guests shake their heads, on edge about the sorting-out that’s about to happen.

“I’ll go with you,” Gabe hurriedly interjects as he drunkenly assesses his empty cocktail glass has as much of a chance of surviving the next five minutes out here on the battlefield as he does. It’s probably not kind of the boys to flee, but this is a survival-of-the-fittest moment and neither of them is looking to become prey.

“So,” Anna says as she watches the men escape, “where you from?”

“China,” Tien abruptly answers.

“How cool,” Anna replies, “I’ve never met anyone from China,”

“I’m not from China,” Tien explains, “I thought you were asking about my ancestry; I’m Chinese. My parents escaped Mao and his cultural revolution before the communists could kill all the intellectuals. I’m from Berkeley by way of Oakland, or is it Oakland by way of Berkeley, I never know which is which. I was born in Oakland and moved to Berkeley before I went to work for Darwin. What about you?”

“Born and raised right here in Taos County. My dad tried shipping me off to New York once, but who wants to live in that cesspool of sewer swill?”

“You never lived anywhere else?” Tien snidely asks.

“Moved to Cruces for college,” Anna proudly states, “but that’s still New Mexico, so no, never lived anywhere else.”

“Interesting,” Tien concludes barely concealing her condescension. “Guess if you’re going to work in a gallery, it might as well be here.” She pauses for emphasis, “kind of a let the world come to you approach,” she adds as a dig.

Rather than be offended, Anna counters, “Darwin says you’re working on a start-up.”

“Yes,” Tien proudly answers.

“Did the last one fail? A new start-up suggests an old start-up never really started up, or am I missing something?”

Tien doesn’t appreciate the dig but chooses to parry. “There was no old startup, after the Berkeley incident when Darwin dissolved the company, I went to work as a contractor at Space Force.”

“Always sounds weird when people say that,” Anna pleasantly jabs, “Space Force, sounds like an audition for a Star Trek episode.”

“I assure you,” Tien reflexively answers unable to hide her anger. “Space Force work is very real and very meaningful.”

“If it’s so meaningful, why leave?”

Tien struggles to bite her tongue rather than engage. “To pursue grander interests; sort of the opposite of leaving a gallery to work in a grocery store.” While intended as a dig, Tien delivers her barb with a positive smile.

“My time at the grocery store,” Anna aggressively fires back, “though rewarding, was due to circumstances beyond my control.” She pauses to regain composure and to consider her next move. “That’s not entirely true, they were due to choices around what I would and would not do. It’s important for a woman to control of her destiny, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed, I would.” Tien states with reflection. “That’s something my grandfather went to great lengths to instill in me.”

“Would you also agree life has a way of working things out, even when it seems to be in randomly illogical ways?”

“That I definitely agree with,” Tien emphatically responds forgetting for a moment she’s at war. “The very fact I’m here is proof of that.”

“Yes,” Anna affirms, “that’s something I’ll enjoy learning more about.” She takes a small sip of wine while considering her next move and forgetting she’s at war, choosing instead to reflect on her journey. “If I hadn’t said no to New York, I’d never have been forced to work at the grocery store and would’ve never met Darwin.” Anna smiles the smile of a victor, “that’s where we met.” She takes another satisfying sip of wine, “do you believe in synchronicity?”

“You mean the way events appear to be related but in reality, aren’t in any way connected?” Tien continues before Anna can answer. “I do, in fact, there’s an entire mathematics based on the theory of synchronicity. I can even argue, you asking about it, and it being my area of research at Space Force is a perfect example.” She takes a moment to reflect on her journey, “in very real ways, events that started in China when my grandparents fled and continued through my time with Darwin before Berkeley, are not connected but deeply related to why I’m here now.” She smiles softly realizing the synthetic bitterness between her and Anna pales in the context of all the events in both their lives that have brought them to this moment. Although she can’t comprehend in any conceivable way how Anna could ever play a role in what she and Darwin are attempting, Tien accepts fate would not have brought Anna into their orbit if she wasn’t destined to play a part. If the utter evilness of Mao and communist China instilled anything in her and her family, it’s that you can’t fight fate, but you can recognize when a moment has been lost, when change is necessary, and when you have to leave the past where it belongs. “You know what I think, Anna,” Tien concludes with a gracious smile, “I get a sense you and I are destined to become very good friends.”