“Yes? For good measure, let’s throw in the contents of these arks — the protected species — and every human being. All ten billion of us. That’d be some holocaust, to be sure.

“But how much difference would it make to the Earth, Pauline? Say, ten million years from now? Not much, I’ll wager. The old girl will wait us out. She’s done it before.”

Pauline’s mouth was slack, her expression stunned. For a moment Jen wondered if she’d really gone over the top, this time.

Her young friend blinked. Then a suspicious smile spread. “You are awful! For a minute there I actually started taking you seriously.”

Jen grinned. “Now… you know me better than that.”

“I know you’re an unrepentant curmudgeon! You live to get a rise out of people, and someday your contrary habits will be your undoing.”

“Hmph. Just how do you think I’ve remained interested in life this long? Finding ways to keep amused… that’s my secret of longevity.”

Pauline tossed the reading plaque back onto the cluttered desk. “Is that why you’re going to South Africa next month? Because it’ll outrage everybody on both sides?”

“The Ndebele want me to look over their arks from a macrobiological perspective. Whatever their politics and race problems, they are still vital members of the Salvation Project.”

“But—”

Jen clapped her hands. “Enough of that. It has nothing to do with our little project in stirpiculture, right here. Mammut americanum. Let’s have a look at Baby’s file, shall we? I may be retired, but I’ll bet I can still recommend a better neural factor gradient than the one you’re using.”

“You’re on! It’s in the next room. I’ll be right back.”

With a youthful grace that Jen watched lovingly, Pauline hurried out of the lab, leaving Jen to ponder alone the mysterious ways of ambiguity in language.