I just stood there, looking at them both. Did the Prefect know my connection to Tain? Did he know that my parents lived in his house, and that my mother was his servant?

“No matter.” He gave me a last smile, and I left the office. The waiting room was filled again with other nervous students who were studying me intently, trying to discern my fate. I drew myself up and made the choice to expand my presence. I looked them each in the eye. I am number One, no matter what might have been, and from now on I’m going to make my presence count.

22

My shed has become somewhat more bearable, but the clutter and confinement of the interior space requires that I leave the door open. To keep myself busy when I’m not working with the med unit, Doctor, I am engaged in a project I must tell you about. It baffles me. Perhaps you can tell me if I’m losing my mind altogether.

Tain’s house, as I mentioned, is rubble. One day I began moving some of the debris and arranging it into a pile. Since there was too much debris for just one pile I arranged another. And then another. Until after hours of work I had carefully assembled several piles of debris in varying shapes and forms. I continued to create these piles and arrange them for two, maybe three weeks, not knowing what I was trying to accomplish. But the work was satisfying, Doctor–it felt good. And each day, when it became too dark to work, I would survey my creations, and I never felt prouder of anything I had ever done in my life. I don’t know where the shapes came from, and I certainly couldn’t explain their significance; but somehow they held me in their power.

After several weeks I asked Parmak what he thought this was all about. He’d stop by intermittently and check on my progress at various stages, but he always kept his own counsel. On this day, he moved through the piles (there were dozens by now) and studied them from all vantage points. A very careful man. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he stopped in front of the pile that was the largest and held the central, dominant position. He turned to me with the strangest expression on his face–and looked me directly in the eyes for the first time.

“I think this is your own archeological dig, Elim. You are unearthing the artifacts of a previous civilization–a civilization that will never return–and arranging them into a memorial for that civilization and its dead. This is your own personal Tarlak Sector. You’re clearing the way for us to move on. Thank you, Elim. This is an honor for me.”

Parmak then chanted a section of the Cardassian burial ritual. He mentioned the names of several friends and relatives, and as he chanted, the cumulative emotional power of his voice was almost unbearable. I, too, had a list of the dead that long, and whispered their names as he chanted. Parmak then took his right hand, ripped open a finger on a sharp piece of metal, and allowed the blood to drip on this central “monument.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, and walked away, his finger still dripping blood.

But what baffles me, Doctor, is that I attach no meaning to what I’m doing here. I’m just doing it because I need to. And to be truthful, I don’t see this as a memorial at all. On the contrary–if I could, I’d singlehandedly rebuild this city myself, piece by piece. I stood here watching Parmak’s blood dry on this pile of rubble, engulfed by a feeling of loss and utter mystification as to what these piles mean.

Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor.

23

Entry:

I knew where Palandine was in the training area, and I waited behind a barrier for her class to come to an end. She was speaking with a classmate when I made my presence known. Her mate was somewhat shocked that a male student would behave in such a brazen manner, but Palandine gestured that she would deal with me and sent the mate on her way.

“So what did you use me for?” I asked.

“What do we ever use each other for?” she replied without hesitation.

“Answering a question with a question is an old trick, Palandine.”

“No trick. I needed a friend.”

“And you don’t need a friend now.” I hated the tone that was creeping into my voice.

“It’s complicated, Elim.”

I was afraid to ask why.

“What did you use mefor?” she asked.

The question truly baffled me. I only wanted her love. Was that using her? I would gladly have given mine in return. I would give anything . . . and I still would.

“I’m leaving Bamarren,” I said. “Today.”

“Why?” It was her turn to be baffled.

“They didn’t say. I was just told that I was being sent to another school.” As I said it, my heart began to sink again.

“Then you’re not being sent home?” she asked, genuinely not understanding.

“Only until I am reassigned.”

“Reassigned?” She thought for a moment. “Elim, are you sure it’s a school where you’re going?”

“That’s what the First Prefect told me.”

“The First Prefect?” I began to sense her concern.

“What do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve heard of a student being asked to leave–it happens often. But never ‘reassigned.’ Who else was at your hearing?”

Simultaneously, I realized that I should not be telling her any of this–and Charaban appeared. He stood behind Palandine. She saw my change of focus and turned. She shook her head.

“Not now, Barkan,” she told him.

“What better time? This is the opportunity, so we take it,” he explained to her. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I strongly felt the need to be prepared for anything. Especially when Charaban spoke of taking an opportunity.

“Hello, Lubak. Is it still Ten or are you number One?” he inquired.

“My name is Elim Garak,” I replied.

“Yes, I know that,” he laughed. “But is it you or is it Eight Lubak that I have to keep my eye on now?” It was the appearance of warmth that made his charm so attractive. A part of me wanted to tell him everything, to challenge the duplicity of his negative evaluation, but the clarity I found in the Lower Prefect’s office was still with me. Looking at him, I was reminded how Palandine had taught me to smile when I asked questions.

“You have to watch both of us, Barkan.”

“Yes, One and Two. Of course. But who makes the final decisions? Whose thinking do I pit mine against?” he challenged. He assumed that he had some kind of advantage and he pressed it. I saw three openings for attack. He saw my stance and prudently covered the openings.

“I think it’s you, Elim.” He countered with another stance.

“He’s leaving Bamarren today,” Palandine told him. She was also telling him something else. Charaban maintained his stance and never took his eyes off me, but his expression changed.

“Why?” If anything, he was even more surprised than Palandine. Even with his treachery, he hadn’t believed that my dismissal from Bamarren was a possibility. This told me that he had had little or nothing to do with my change of fortune. His entire attitude toward me changed. I was no longer an opponent to be engaged and probed for weakness, but a baffling specimen of some lower order. Assuming I had been rejected and sent home, he stepped out of the strategem.

That’s hisweakness, I thought, and said nothing to counter his assumption. After a long moment, when he understood that I was not going to be forthcoming with any details, he moved on.

“So it’s Eight,” he said, dismissing me from his world.

“I don’t think you understand, Barkan. . . .” Palandine began to say.

“It’s not necessary that he understand,” I dismissed him from myworld. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few moments alone with Palandine before I go.” This seemed to amuse him, and he looked at Palandine, who nodded back.

“Certainly,” he said, with a smile that showed how gracious he could be. “Good‑bye . . . Elim Garak. Perhaps we’ll meet someday in the Tarlak Sector.” I understood the kind of circumstances under which he imagined such a meeting would take place–Elim the maintenance worker setting up the dais for a triumphant hero of the Empire. But it was my fault; I had told him everything he wanted to know about my life. All you have to do is smile when you ask. I answered him with a smile of my own.