Dark Rivers of the Heart

extremity.
        In time, Eve rose from the bed and stepped into the adjoinin bathroom.
        When she returned, caring two plush towels one damp, one dry, she was no longer gleaming with oil. With the damp cloth, she removed the glistening residue from the rubber mattress cover, then carefully wiped it down with the dry towel. She replaced the bottom sheet that she had earlier cast off.
        Roy joined her on the bed. Eve lay on her back, her head on a pillow.
        He stretched out beside her, on his back, his head on another pillow.
        She was still gloriously nude, and he remained fully clothed-though at some point during the night, he had loosened his necktie by an inch.
        Neither of them made the mistake of trying to comment upon what had transpired. Mere words could not have done the experience justice and might have made a nearly religious odyssey seem somehow tawdry.
        Anyway, Roy already knew that it had been good for Eve; and as for himself, well, he had seen more physical human perfection in those few hours-and in action-than in his entire life theretofore.
        After a while, gazing at his darling's reflection on the ceiling as she stared at his, Roy began to talk, and the night entered a new phase of communion that was nearly as intimate, intense, and life-changing as the more physical phase that had preceded it. He spoke further about the power of compassion, refining the concept for her. He told her that humankind always hungered for perfection.
        People would endure unendurable pain, accept awful deprivation, countenance savage brutalities, live in constant and abject terror-if only they were convinced that their sufferings were the tolls that must be paid on the highway to Utopia, to Heaven on earth.
        A person motivated by compassion-yet who was also aware of the masses'willingness to suffer-could change the world. Although he, Roy Miro of the merry blue eyes and Santa Claus smile, did not believe that he possessed the charisma to be that leader of leaders who would launch the next crusade for perfection, he hoped to be one who served that special person and served him well.
        "I light my little candles," he said. "One at a time."
        For hours Roy talked while Eve interjected numerous questions and perceptive comments. He was excited to see how she thrilled to his ideas almost as she had thrilled to her battery-powered toys and to her own practiced hands.
        She was especially moved when he explained how an enlightened soli clety ought to expand on the work of Dr. Kevor an, compassionately assisting in the self-destruction not solely of suicidal people but also of those poor souls who were deeply depressed, offering easy exits not only to the terminally ill but to the chronically ill, the disabled, the maimed, the psychologically impaired.
        And when Roy talked about his concept for a suicide-assistance program for infants, to bring a compassionate solution to the problem of babies born with even the slightest defects that might affect their lives, Eve made a few breathless sounds similar to those that had escaped her in the throes of passion. She pressed her hands to her breasts once more, though this time only in an attempt to quiet the fierce pounding of her heart.
        As Eve filled her hands with her bosoms, Roy could not take his eyes off the reflection of her that hovered above him. For a moment he thought that he might weep at the sight her sixty-percent-perfect face and form.
        Sometime before dawn, intellectual orgasms sent them spiraling into sleep, as physical orgasms had not the power to do. Roy was so fulfilled that he didn't even dream.
        Hours later, Eve woke him. She had already showered and dressed for the day.
        "You've never been more radiant," he told her.
        "You've changed my life," she said.
        "And you mine."
        Although she was late for work in her concrete bunker, she drove him to the Strip hotel at which Prock, his taciturn driver from the previous night, had left his luggage. It was Saturday, but Eve worked seven days a week. Roy admired her commitment.
        The desert morning was bright. The sky was a cool, serene blue.
        At the hotel, under the entrance portico, before Roy got out of the car, he and Eve made plans to see each other soon, to experience again the pleasures of the night just past.
        He stood by the front entrance to