Chapter Seventeen

Clair Baring-Schultze didn't know any more about computers than Hazel did. But he had more staff, and younger, better skilled staff that understood all the intricacies of data bases, search engines, and document storage online.

Their conversations, then, usually revolved more around departmental politics and personnel management more than they did on the ostensible subject of internet issues in archival science. She liked the people side of her work, and she liked talking to Clair, even though their conversations often left her feeling like they were just benefiting from the work of others... which, to be fair, they were, but that's what it means to be in charge, she thought.

"So you're going on after you're done here in Chicago to London?"

"That's the plan right now."

"Do you plan to stop by the British Museum, or Dr Williams' Library?"

"I hope so," Hazel smiled, "but that's not the main point of the trip. I'm going at the request of an old school friend, from college. She's a journalist, and has some questions for me."

"She's interviewing you?"

"No, that's not quite it. She's . . . you know, I'm not sure what she's doing right now. She's been in Pakistan for most of the last few years. We exchange e-mails from time to time. But I guess we both don't have many friends. I mean, not where we, here, that is . . ."

"I understand. There's work relationships, collegial connections, and there's friends. I'd call you a friend, Hazel, even if technically we barely know each other. It's a slippery word."

"It should be simple, shouldn't it."

"I don't know why it would be. Any human relationship is tied up in knots with every other, and how to keep track of which one takes priority over another, which person at any given time in more important than someone else . . . I have no idea how to do that. It's a Gordian Knot that's given to the Alexandrian Solution."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, one of those classical references I drop into conversations too often. Forgive me."

"Well, I'm a librarian. Anything Alexandrian I should know about, but that missed me."

"I'm going back to the source himself, Alexander the Great, for whom the city and the library were named. It's said that, when presented with the original riddle of the Gordian Knot, Aristotle's prize pupil took out his sword and sliced through the knot."

"Ah."

"So, for some of us, he said speaking purely for himself, we cut the cord of close connection. Keep the ties loose and make as few as possible, that way you can keep track of what and who you are supposed to care about."

Hazel was about to dispute this point when it occurred to her that it was descriptive of her as well as it was of Clair, and she sat silently, looking down into her lap.

"The Alexandrian Solution is elegant and effective, but also it leads to the Alexandrian Dilemma."

Looking up, Hazel asked "which is?"

"A dissatisfaction at the things of this world."

They both sat quietly at this for a few moments, enough to establish that they were, indeed, friends enough to be silent with each other without undue anxiety.

Hazel broke the pause saying "You're right about dissatisfaction. I'm not even sure what I'm dissatisfied about these days, except that I like my work, but don't love it; I have a good life, but I don't . . . love it."

"There's a key word there."

"Yes there is."