“Let me see what I can do.” It was time to end the meeting. “It was a pleasure to see you again.” Madred rose and barely inclined his head. I was disliking him more and more. I escorted him to the door to get him out as quickly as possible.

“By the way, I bring you greetings from an old schoolmate of yours. Unfortunately I can’t tell you his name.”

“Ah. Please return my greetings.” Madred left, not a moment too soon.

Is it him? Is he still alive?

14

Entry:

While the design of a circle with a hub and six radiating sections is a simple one, Cardassia City is densely laid out with an angular and labyrinthine complexity that only the natives can navigate. As I became expert in my knowledge of every neighborhood and thoroughfare I developed an irresistible desire to secure new lodgings at regular intervals. I would pick an area and look for a place that would satisfy my need for privacy and my passion for Edosian orchids. While my hosts would be deeply disappointed at my departure, they were equally grateful for the gift of healthy orchids I would leave them. With the exception of the archon and his lady friend, however, I had little hope that these people would be able to maintain the orchids.

One of my genuine pleasures was to pick someone in the street to follow. Part of it was to satisfy a desire I’ve had since Bamarren to move through places and among people undetected, a desire that increased significantly after seeing Palandine and her daughter. In the intervening years, I’d pick someone who looked like a walker and follow him or her as long as they walked. I’d make sure my presence was minimized and I’d take on the person’s physical carriage and behavior. After a while, once the physical mimicry felt complete, I’d also take on the thoughts and feelings of that person. In this way I not only felt connected to another, but I was divested of my own thoughts and emotions–especially the painful ones.

Because I could never stop thinking about her. It was a terrible possession, and the more I told myself to stop or tried to employ gimmicks to distract me, the worse it got. I often returned to the Tarlak Grounds in hopes of seeing her; most of the time I sat among Tolan’s orchids in vain. And the few times she did appear . . . ah, how can I describe the feeling? A poet once described, “an exquisite pain/ Churning the heart, the stomach, and the genitals.” Crude, yes, but anatomically correct. It is so curious how we can learn to live with just about any condition or situation if we believe we have no choice.

Palandine and Kel appeared on this day, and I realized that Kel was getting too old for the children’s area. I could see that it was Palandine more than Kel who wanted to come to the Grounds. Palandine would stretch into the sunshine and try to encourage her daughter to run and wrestle with her. Kel, however, had developed a taste for novels and rebuffed all her mother’s efforts to play. The spaces between their visits to the Grounds were widening, and sooner than later they would stop coming altogether. By my calculations it wouldn’t be much longer before Kel was sent to an Institute. As I watched them, I became consumed with these inevitable changes and wasn’t sure what I would do.

As they left the Grounds, my body had no problem deciding on a course of action: it followed them. I knew this was dangerous, and my anxiety made me unsure how to proceed. I knew where they lived in the Coranum Sector, the oldest and most prestigious neighborhood in the City. But what was I going to do? Stand outside their home and live off the occasional glimpse? This was folly. But there was no turning back . . . my body kept following. We passed through the crowded great public area, where Palandine ran into two women she knew. They were standing in the shadow of the Assembly building, and I had to be watchful for colleagues. Finally they moved on, and for a split second I considered retiring to my cubicle in the Hall of Records and distracting myself with a huge amount of deferred work, but my body followed. I couldn’t let them go.

We entered the Coranum Sector, and the contrast was dramatic. Stately old buildings dating back to the early Union faced wide thoroughfares; they weren’t cramped and pushed together as in the Torr. The care and craftsmanship lavished on the facades made even the fine homes of the Paldar Sector look boring and drab. These were the homes of the families who had ruled Cardassia for generations, and they were built to reflect the solidity and continued longevity of that rule. Of course the Lokars would live here.

Foot traffic was minimal, and I realized that I was too close when Kel looked back and almost made eye contact with me. I stopped, pretending I had lost my way while they went on further. Finally they came to their building, a three‑storied newer version of the early Union style, but with the same classic angles and high windows. They entered, and suddenly I was alone on the street, a conspicuous loiterer. Determined that I would never do this again, I continued in the same direction. As I passed the building I glanced at the heavy door, which gave no promise or sign of opening for me. My plan was to take my next left and cut through the Barvonok Sector, the center of business and commerce, on my way to the Torr and yet another new home. It was a trained habit never to retrace my steps.

“Elim. Elim Garak!” Her voice came from behind, and I quickened my step. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to look at her. My mind was desperately looking for a way to slip off, to lose her. But the whole enterprise was a fiasco. Of course, she had spotted me. It was almost as if I had begged her to.

“Elim!” Her voice was winded, exasperated, and amused. She was a magnificent athlete, and her long legs had very quickly caught up with me. I turned.

“Palandine?” I winced at the utter woodenness of my feigned surprise.

“First you follow me, and now you’re trying to run away.” Her frankness was as disarming as ever. “Still the same bundle of contradictions, aren’t you?” I could see that she was trying to measure the Elim she knew from Bamarren against the one who stood before her.

“I assure you, I just happened to be walking in this sector,” I struggled to reply.

“And the screech crake has a pleasant voice.” She was still catching her breath. “But I suppose the fact that you were also at the Grounds and the Assembly building could be an extraordinary coincidence,” she said with a look that challenged me to come up with an answer. I couldn’t. I felt exposed and ashamed.

“I’m . . . sorry. I tried to be discreet.” There was no point in pursuing the deception.

“Elim, you forget–I studied with the same teachers. Old habits die hard,” she added with a self‑deprecating laugh.

“I was not going to do it again,” I assured her.

“Let’s walk,” she suggested, noticing a couple coming out of a building. We continued in the direction away from her house.

“You’ve changed,” she said.

“It’s been a long time. Would you expect me to stay the same?” I asked.

“No,” she replied softly. She had changed, too. Close up, her face was thinner and faint lines were drawn around her eyes and mouth. It was more than just middle age. As genuine as her pleasure was in seeing me again (a pleasure that relieved me enormously), the old delight that would always animate her face instantly was a thing of the past. There was a sadness about her, as she led me through an area of Coranum I’d never walked before. The streets narrowed and the houses were older.

“I love this area. This is the earliest settlement in the city. Turn here,” she instructed. A narrow passageway, almost hidden by an outer wall, led between two houses and opened up into an unexpected public grounds that was remarkable for the mature size of the shrubbery and plantings. It was a small grounds, but the profusion of growth gave it an insularity that reminded me of another place.