Free What in God's Name: A Novel by Simon Rich Page A

told her. “Their atrocities continue to this day.”
    “No,” Eliza said. “I mean, what happened with Sam and Laura?”
    “Oh. Nothing.”
    “They didn’t talk after the protest?”
    Craig shook his head. “Their next meeting isn’t for another eight months. Here it is—Fifteenth Street and Irving.”
    He clicked on the link, and Eliza shifted impatiently in her seat, waiting for the clip to start.
EARTH—MAY 12, 2008
    Sam stood across the street from Irving Plaza, trying to breathe like a normal person. He’d spotted Laura twenty minutes ago, through the plate-glass window of a gyro shop, and he was determined to finally speak to her. It wasn’t his first opportunity—they’d shared a dining hall for months. But the odds were it was his last chance of the year. Classes had ended on Friday, and he was flying home to Tulsa at six the next morning. If he didn’t make his move right now, who knew when he’d get another shot?
    He rehearsed his opening line under his breath a few times, debating various deliveries. Finally, he walked across the street and tapped her on the shoulder.
    “Hey,” he said. “You in line for the show?”
    Laura nodded. She’d been watching Sam for about ten minutes, trying to figure out why he kept mumbling under his breath. She’d wanted to meet him ever since the protest but hadn’t had the guts to approach him.
    “I love the Fuzz,” Sam said. “They’re kind of reminiscent of early Brian Eno.”
    Laura smiled confusedly. She’d never heard of Brian Eno. She was debating whether to feign agreement with him when the line started moving.
    “Guess it’s starting,” she said, shuffling along with the crowd.
    “Oh!” Sam said. “Okay. Well…sayonara!”
    She waved awkwardly. “Bye!”
    Sam shook his head wearily. He’d finally worked up the courage to talk to her, after months of campus stalking, and it had gone all wrong. Why had he said that thing about Brian Eno? And “sayonara”? What the hell was that? The conversation had been such an unmitigated disaster he almost felt like laughing. His only solace was that nobody had been around to see it.
     
    “Man,” Eliza said. “That was hard to watch.”
    Craig nodded. “Did you see how much he was sweating?”
    “I didn’t notice.”
    Craig hit the pause button and zoomed in on Sam’s oil-drenched forehead.
    “And this is at night,” Craig marveled. “He’s sweating like this at night. ”
    “What the hell was that Brian Eno thing about?”
    “I’ll show you.”
    Craig closed the clip and opened one from twenty minutes earlier. Sam was sitting in the gyro stand across the street from Irving Plaza, scrutinizing a listing in the Village Voice.
    “It looks like he’s reading the same article over and over again,” Eliza said.
    “He is.”
    Craig paused the clip, adjusted the angle, and zoomed in on the newspaper.
    The Fuzz rocks Irving Plaza Sunday with a sound reminiscent of early Brian Eno.
    Eliza cringed. “So he was just repeating what the paper said?”
    Craig nodded. “He’s never heard a single Brian Eno song. I checked his entire Life History.”
    “Wow.” She closed her eyes. “Remember when he said ‘sayonara’?”
    Craig shuddered. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
    He scrolled down to the humans’ next meeting.
    “I haven’t watched the third one yet. Maybe it goes better?”
    “When’s it from?”
    “Two years later—spring of 2010.”
    She covered her eyes. “I’m afraid to watch.”
    “We’ve got to.”
    He clicked on the link, and the clip began to roll.
EARTH—APRIL 3, 2010
    “Hey,” Laura said. “You’re in Linguistics Twelve, right?”
    Sam nodded.
    “Are those responses due today?”
    Sam nodded.
    “Okay,” she said. “Um…thanks!”
     
    Eliza threw her hands up in frustration.
    “What the fuck was that?”
    Craig shrugged. “I guess they’re both shy.”
    She shook her head in disgust. “She came right up to him, initiated a conversation, and