"I shall be telling this with a sigh
 Somewhere ages and ages hence:
 Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
 I took the one less traveled by,
 And that has made all the difference."
       -Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
 

*********************
Triple Point

by

+Gradient
*********************

       "Hello, you have reached the Mizuno residence.  We are not
available at the moment, but if you would graciously leave a message,
we will get in touch with you as soon as possible."

       <Beep>

       "Ami.  Please pick up.  It's me, Makoto.  I know you're there.
You've got to listen to me . . . it wasn't your fault.  You can't blame
yourself for this -- it just happened.  Look, you need to come down to
the hospital right now; your mother is already here and she's asking
about you.  We just need you down here right n--<Beep>

       <You have three new messages.  Shall I play them?>

       Click.

       <Messages erased.  You have no new messages.>

       * * * * *

[Saturday - A Sunny Day]

       Saturdays were always sweeter in my neighborhood.  Laugh if you
must, but I really do mean that.

       Well, let me clarify that a bit.  Although I live in one of the
better sections of Tokyo, there is a suburban polymer plant about a
kilometre away that produces those little plastic rings that go around
cans in six-packs of cola and beer and other things that girls my age
like to drink at their parties.

       Not that I'd know anything about that.

       As I was saying, the plant has a very subtle discharge that only
a few people in the area can detect.  Naturally, I'm one of them.  Not
really that bad -- you sort of get used to it after a while.  But on
Saturday, the plant goes down to maintenance mode and production shuts
down temporarily.  You don't even really notice it until that morning
when you wake up and the air is crisp and like an old friend come to
visit, like it must have been in days of old.

       You know, in the last three years I've had a lot of Saturdays
to think things over.  I remember the first Saturday:  it had just been
the day before that I had gotten into trouble at that computer school.
You know, the one that the youma had run and had been sucking in
unsuspecting kids, like myself.  Luckily Usagi and Luna found me and,
well, the story after that pretty much gets boring.

       Ami studies.  Ami gets the call from the senshi.  Ami goes right
away and does her best.  Ami watches as Usagi blasts the monster and
then complains about something or the other, forgetting all the time
that she was the one who was fated to be a princess.  Ami goes home
and studies until late in the morning to make up for the hour and a
half of cram school that she missed this evening.  Ami has a ten minute
cold dinner with her mother and pretends to be having a conversation,
because Ami knows that her mother is pretending too.  Ami gets an "A"
on the test and points out to her classmates that it really *was* hard,
and they dismiss it as simple modesty, never suspecting how close to
the truth this admission was.  Ami goes home and tries to catch up on
the piles of work that had been accumulating.  Maybe tonight's going to
be the night, Ami thinks.  Ami begins to study.  Ami gets the call from
the senshi.  Ami goes right away and does her best.

       Three years straight.

       * * * * *

[ Last Tuesday - A Rainy Day ]

       The silence was like an empty canvas, gently waiting for the
world to be created upon it.  Waiting for something special to break it,
something meaningful, something profound.

       "Negative," the odango-haired girl said with smug certainty.

       "Is that your answer or are you saying that you don't have the
answer?"

       "Ami, the answer *is* negative, I double-checked."

       "Usagi, the answer is positive.  Look here: there's four
negative numbers multiplied together, an even number, which means the
final answer is positive," she said with more than a slight bit of
exasperation.

       "But Ami, you're not looking at---"

       "No, Usagi.  The final answer is positive."  She had been
cutting her princess off more often as of late.

       "I think I see Usagi's point," the other blonde present
noted without delay.  "Look, there's another negative here in this
next set of parenthesis---"

       "Which is squared before it is multiplied with the others,
Minako," she sighed in resignation.  She shook her head in a
small disbelief as she continued.  "Maybe we should just stop for the
night before I have to go over order of operations again."

       "Why?  We've got plenty of time."

       *We've* always got plenty of time, don't we, Usagi?

       "I really need to go, my cram school science project deadline i--"

       "Hey Mako-chan, did you see that guy eyeballing you today at
lunch?"

       "What guy?"

       "My deadline--"

       "Usagi!  You shouldn't be prying into other people's concerns!"

       "Yeah, like that's stopped you before, Rei."

       "Who asked you, Minako?"

       "My deadline--"

       "What did he look like?  I didn't see him."

       "Why do you always have to tell Usagi her business?  She's
doing okay."

       "Tall, dark, and handsome.  Sort of like my Mamo-chan with
longer hair and glasses."

       "I'm just trying to make her a princess.  She's got to learn a
certain carriage."

       "My--"

       "Cute?"

       "What does carrying her have to do with it?"

       "Oh, definitely."

       "That's how she carries *herself*, Minako!  Are you sure you're
in our grade?"

       "M--'

       "All right, that's it---How cute--You want a piece of me, Shrine
Girl---Mako-chan, I think he's in the grade below us, if you can handle
that sort of thing---How am I supposed to take your threats seriously,
Minako, when you can't get them out without laughing---No, I don't have
any problem with younger men---Hey Artemis, you just showed up so why
don't you tell Rei here that I could easily take her one-on-one---
Speaking of Mamoru, where has he been this week, I haven't seen him
around---You'd better not, especially since you're afraid of fire---
Oh, he's around---Artemis! That was a secret!---Usagi, have you eaten
this evening---Aha! Gotcha now blondie!---Yesss, Luna, full meal---
how cute---red face--curry-turned downdancenosyromanticneverparentslate
embarassedsempaitransferstudent30000yendrivesuniversitymisunderstoodold
bloodtypenevermeaniedoubtecchidinnerneedsoverloadedAmi-------------*

       "I'm sorry.  Did you want to say something, Ami-chan?"

       "Ami?"

       "Positive."

       "The answer is positive."

       * * * * *

[ Wednesday - A Windy Day ]

       "Excuse me, you're ahh . . . you're Mizuno Ami, aren't you?"

       His words, of course, were trained and practiced, but the meaning
of the underlying uneasy tone *should* have been immediately obvious to
any teenage girl.

       "Er, yes.  Have we met before?"

       The word "should" is present in many languages, despised by all.

       "Not really.  I, uh . . . I sit in the back of our advanced
mathematics section in cram school.  I was just wondering, um, what . . .
what you thought of that bonus problem on the end of today's test."
Those last few words came out very quickly and very awkwardly, giving
the painful impression of being hastily improvised.

       "Well, that *was* a tricky one, uh . . ." she politely offered
a pause to allow him to gracefully correct his lapse of protocol
earlier.

       "Oh!  Oh, I'm Tsujimoto.  Tsujimoto Kai.  I go to Solato
Academy."

       "Well, Tsujimoto-san, as I was saying earlier, that was a tricky
one.  The key to solving it was actually in finding the function's . . ."

       "Inverse."  They said it simultaneously, prompting a rather
embarrassing yet strangely delightful moment.

       "Yes.  When you did that extra credit problem on the board the
other day, I knew that you were the one to ask about this particular
challenge."

       "Oh."  Her hand almost instinctively went to cover her mouth,
but she resisted, knowing what that implicit show of emotion meant.
"Oh, it wasn't really that h---"

       "Aaaaaamiiiiii-chaaaaaaaan!"

       Oh, perfect.

       "Did you just hear something, Mizuno-san?"

       "I don't think so.  Maybe it was the wind blowing."

       "Ami!  Over here!"

       Both turned to see the jumping and waving visage from afar.

       "Do you know that girl?  I think she's trying to get your
attention."

       "Yeah, I think you're right," she mumbled in a barely audible
yet clearly unamused tone.  "Just a moment, Usagi, I'm having a class
discussion!"

       "Ah, leave it to Usagi-chan for discussions about class," she
giggled to herself as she approached the twosome.  "Now," she continued,
"who are you?"  She raised a finger toward the young man who visibly
recoiled at such a breach of politeness.

       "Usagi!  Please!  This is Tsu--"

       "Tsujimoto Kai, Solato Academy.  I attend Mizuno-san's cram
school."

       "Tsujimoto, eh?  Are you trying to ask Ami out?"

       "Usagi!"  The blue-haired girl habitually and frantically
looked around to see how many people had overheard this assertion.

       "Sorry, but it can't be helped.  I just thought Tsujimoto-kun
here ought to know that he'd better be smart, at least as smart as
Urawa-kun was."

       "Usa--

       "That's unlikely."

       "--gi!!"

       "Uh, maybe I'd better leave you two to yourselves.  I've got to
get home to do some homework.  Yeah.  Um, I'll see you tomorrow,
Mizuno-san.  Have a good evening."  He was already backing away and on
the verge of running as he made his hasty valediction.

       The blue-haired girl, was, of course, too stunned to talk, to
put it mildly.  Her head turned slowly from the rapidly receding figure
of the boy to the blonde with her arms on her hips bearing a smile of
grand satisfaction, waiting for the next words to escape her lips:

       "Well, aren't you going to thank me?"

       "*You want me to thank you?*"

       "Sure.  I could tell as soon as I showed up that you were trying
to squirm your way out of talking to him.  Besides, everybody knows
Mizuno Ami's too devoted to her work to give her time to *any* boy, at
least for the time being.  He was sort of cute, though. I'll just let
you make it up to me by buying me a milkshake in a few minutes down at
the soda shop."

       What do you say?  What *can* you say?

       "Let's go."

       * * * * *

[ Thursday - A Foggy Day ]

       "Booooring!"  Usagi frowned as she crossed her arms and closed
her eyes.  "This *has* to be one of the worst field trips I've ever
been on."

       "Usagi, it's not that often that we are given an opportunity to
see an art exhibit.  Perhaps you should make the best of the situation."
Ami sighed as she scanned the room to take note of how many other schools
Usagi was embarrassing Juuban in front of.  "We'll be out of here in
thirty minutes, so let's just look around.  Maybe you'll see something
you'll like.  Now come on, Makoto's over in the student wing.  Let's
see what she's viewing.  And I've got a surprise too!"

       "This place has a cafeteria?"

       "Not quite.  Now come along."

       In a dragging pace Ami led Usagi into the aforementioned wing,
where examples from prominent student artists from the metropolitan
area were on a rotating display.  To be invited to contribute a piece
to the Tugoro Exhibit was the early pinnacle of success for the aspiring
painter or sculptor, as representatives of several notable universities
and conservatories were known to frequent its halls.  A perhaps
slightly less discriminating eye had already arrived at a conclusion
on one of the paintings hanging on the wall:

       "I like it."  Makoto noted that several other would-be critics
always gave their analysis while stroking their chin, so she did the
same, if only to give further self-assurance to her rather meager, if
concise, criticism.

       "Hmmm . . . a chrysanthemum, in a vase, on a table, with nothing
else . . ." Usagi felt compelled to give her view.  "I like it too, I
think.  But why aren't there other flowers?  Or maybe a fancier vase?
I like flowers, too, perhaps not as much as you Mako-chan, but I think
it might look . . . I don't know . . . more colorful, with more flowers."

       "Well I believe the artist was going for a sense of minimalism
in her work -- you know, by leaving out everything else, the painting
strives to convey the natural simplicity of the flower through its own
composition."  As Ami finished her description, she looked over to see
that her two friends were locked in a dumbfounded stare at her, both
with mouths slightly open.

       Makoto was the first to break the stare, shaking it off by
pointing out with a slight laugh that "I just liked it because the
chrysanthemum was pretty."  She then looked slightly around in confusion,
"Do either of you know who painted this, anyway?"

       "It says right here," Usagi's pointing finger indicated the
lower right quadrant of the piece.  "Kibu Shirome.  Kibu Shirome.
Where have I heard that name before . . . it sounds so familiar."

       "Wait!" Makoto interjected rather loudly before remembering that
she was in a largely silent art gallery.  "Doesn't she go to that school
that our American football team played last week?  Keikiwa, I think."

       Usagi snapped her fingers in realization.  "Yeah, that's it.
Short brown hair.  Now I remember her."  She looked at the painting
again.  "Wow.  She only goes to school a couple of kilometres from
here.  We have famous artists in our midst and we don't even know it."

       "Small world, isn't it?" Ami noted with a smile.  "What do you
think of this one?"  She slowly sauntered over to a smaller painting,
only twenty centimetres on each side.  Within was a scene not unlike
the Impressionists of old:  two girls, each with a parasol, enjoying
a meal while floating along a gentle current in a small, yet elegant,
boat.  The pointillism of the composition was crafted in such a way as
to confirm the many hours of toil placed into this labor of love.

       Usagi squinted her eyes and closed in on the work, applying some
silent, indeterminate form of criticism upon it, and then stepped back
to make her declaration.

       "You know, that girl on the left sort of looks like me," she
began with a sideward glance, then breaking into giggles, "but my eyes
are much more beautiful than that."

       "But what do you think?"

       "Well, it's nice and all Ami, but . . ."

       "But?"

       "But it reminds me of those cheap paintings that you see in
dentists' offices.  You know -- they try to give you some feeling, but
it's just that they seem *so* fake.  Besides, I can't even really tell
what's going on in this one.  Like, are they sisters, friends?  Yeah,
dentist's office.  That's it."

       "It's just so cold," Makoto noted from afar.

       "Yeah, Mako-chan, that's a good word."  Usagi nodded her head
while still peering at the painting.  "Cold."

       "Who's this one painted by?"  Makoto moved in to get a better
view.

       "Mother."

       "What?"  Makoto stared at Usagi to emphasize the bizarreness of
the blonde's answer.

       "No, really . . . it says so right here in the corner, in
English -- 'MA'.  That does mean 'mother', doesn't it?  No wonder he
or she doesn't want to give their real name."

       "Well, let's go look at another one.  Do you think Michiru has
one or two hanging in here?"  Usagi's mood turned to one of cheer at
once.

       "No way.  This place is way too small for her.  Everybody in
here's rank amateurs compared to her.  Try the national gallery."
Makoto looked upward and shook her head while glancing over at the
blue-haired girl who still seemed transfixed by something in the
painting.  "Come on Ami, you're holding us up.  Our class is about to
move into the next wing."

       "Yeah, let's not get left behind!  Besides, I'm curious to hear
what that surprise you were talking about was!  Over lunch, of course!"
Usagi nearly squealed as she left the hall, visions of tasty treats
hindering her already questionable attention.

       One last look.  The periods were there, she was sure of it.
Maybe it was just the lighting in this room.  Or maybe dust settling
upon the oil had blotted them out over the past weeks.  Whatever the
case, the periods were there.  She could even see them now as she
turned away.

       "M.A."

       * * * * *

[ Friday - A Cold Day ]

       "Would all contestants competing in the National Fifth District
Science Competition Qualifier please remember to register at the
courtesy desk . . . to repeat, would all contestants . . ."

       My day, she thought to herself.  My day.  Time to shine.

       The voices within the great hall echoed in a cacophony of
scholarly and not-so-scholarly discourse.  Surely, to many of her
friends, this would have been an intolerable situation.  To her,
however, the symphony was just beginning.  Just need to wait a little
while until my solo.  Can you hear it like I can?

       "The C/2-fixed points of topological Hochschild homology are . . ."

       The flute.

       " . . . consists of a silicon substrate with a periodic array
of electrodes . . ."

       Oboe.

       " . . . a redshift of Z=1.552 contradicting Einstein-de Sitter
models . . ."

       Clarinet.  Here I go . . .

       "Ah, Mizuno-san, are you busy at the moment?  There is someone
I would like you to meet."

       "Not at all Idemoto-sensei, it would be my pleasure."  Having
one of your teachers as an organizer of the event certainly has
advantages.

       "This is Matsuzawa Musami, head chair of genetics at the
University."  She smiled inwardly as she noted with glee that he was
already encaptured by the lure of her particular project.

       "Yes, I have read several of your books, Matsuzawa-sensei.  It
is an honor to have you view my work."

       "Oh, it's *my* honor, Mizuno-san, since I've heard so many good
things about you from my former student here.  Now, he mentioned that
you were working on a method of enhancing DNA sequencing?"

       "Yes.  From what research I've done on current sequencing
techniques, I found that there was much room for improvement on the
efficiency side of the equation.  Basically, what I've done is to
design a particular set of computer algorithms which, I believe, if
tested in laboratory conditions, will roughly double the current speed
and efficiency of the sequencing process.  The controlled tests that
I have performed seem to indicate that magnitude of increase."

       "A new algorithm . . . a colleague of mine had toyed with the
idea of designing one, but he dismissed it as impractical."  He broke
his gaze at her display and trained a wry eye on her.  "Is there any
particular reason why you picked *now* to do this particular work?"

       "Well, it's a well-known fact that the University is one of the
major world centers in the Human Genome Project.  It just occurred to
me that, with the project now just gearing up, it would be nice to have
the local school assume a leadership role by showing that we could
shave some time off the process."

       "And approximately how much time do you think we could save?"

       "Over the entire project?  Three years, as a conservative
estimate."

       The grizzled old gentleman smiled and nodded his head in polite
astonishment.  "This is most impressive, Mizuno-san.  Most impressive.
Perhaps you would like a personal tour of our department next week.
I'm sure that many of my colleagues would enjoy working in your company,
since I've heard from your teacher of your current, how should I say,
*recent good fortune*, with the University.  For now, however, would
you do me the honor of discussing a few details of your brilliant
development a little more?"

       "Oh, it would be my pleasure.  The underlying basis of the
conversion process is actually quite simple in that . . ."

       {Beep}

       "Er, quite simple in that . . ."

       {Beep}

       " . . . the fundamental base-pair combinations are nothing
more than . . ."

       {Beep}

       "I'm sorry, Mizuno-san.  Are you being paged?"

       That's a kind word for it.  Try having your heart ripped out.

       {Beep}

       Not now, for God's sake.  For one time, just shut up and stop
beeping.  I've given you everything else.  Can't you just give me one
day?

       "Mizuno-san, I think you should take this page.  I'll come back
some other time if I can work it into my schedule."

       "No, I . . ."

       {Beep}

       "Mizuno-san?"

       {Beep}

       Click.

       "No, this page was just one of my students wanting to cancel her
tutoring session.  I'll get in touch with her later.  Now, excuse me
for the interruption, but as I was saying . . ."

       She had always wondered whether the disable button on this thing
worked.  After all, it had been three years and she hadn't dared touch
it.

       She was surprised by how easily the button pressed inward.

       * * * * *

       35.66934 north, 139.76785 east.  This is it.  The call had to
come from here.  She checked twice to make sure that the geographic
origination function within her linked minicomputer was operating
correctly.  The call earlier had actually been two separate ones
overlaid, placed within seconds of each other.

       A playground?  Why would they have called from here?  It doesn't
make any sense.

       It was now almost dusk, and the street lights were activating
in sequence.  The day's newspapers had already begun to blow from their
trash containers to litter the grounds of the park.  Quite artistic,
actually.

       She would have probably missed it, if not for the color
of the horse.  The merry-go-round horse was white with a blue mane.
The dark stain was only accentuated and given life by the contrast:
the horrible red discoloration upon its neck had been added earlier
today while such things as human genetics and angels dancing on the
head of a pin were being discussed.  Blood for blood, so to speak.

       Her pulse didn't have time to increase.  She was already gone.

       * * * * *

       Five blocks.  Mother's hospital.  It had to be this one.
Closest option.  She ran there unconsciously as time slowed to a brutal
pace.

       The second-floor waiting room was familiar, but not in this
cruel way.  Got to scan the room quick.  See who's here.

       Minako asleep on the couch with Artemis.  Closed door beside.
Rei in the corner talking to Mak---

       Usagi.

       "Ami!  No!  You can't go in there!"  The brunette rapidly
wrapped the girl in her grip before she could frantically throw open
the closed door.

       "Let go of me!  I've got to go in!  I've got to go---"

       "Calm down, calm down.  She's all right.  She's all right.  She
just needs some sleep right now.  We can't disturb her.  Luna's in
there with her, so she's okay.  She's okay, in stable condition.  Your
mother's going to be here in about ten minutes to look her over."  She
slowly released her grip and softened her voice as she felt resistance
lessen.

       "What . . . what . . . hap--"

       "There were five of them," Rei peered across the room with her
arms crossed and a genuine accusatory look projected so frighteningly
close as to chill the soul, "and there were four of us. It's that
simple."

       "Yeah, we could have really used Sailor Mercury today.  We tried
to call you on the communicator, Ami," the brunette sat to relieve her
fatigue, "but you must have been out of range."

       "That's odd.  *I wasn't aware that our communicators had a
range.*"  Rei had not yet broken her glare.

       "What are you saying, Rei, that Ami deliberately turned off her
communicator?  That's just silly, right, Ami?"

       Right Ami?

       "Ami?"

       At that moment when young girls' minds collide with reality,
there is little to do but run away and cry.  Or cry and run away.

       At this moment, she did both.

       * * * * *

[Saturday - A Sunny Day]

       The birds chirping are always the first sound I hear on a
Saturday morning.  They wake me up with their splendid song and make
this day the only day, as it should be.  The second sound today is
somewhat unusual.

       "Good morning, Ami."

       "Good morning, mom."

       "You're looking . . . better, after last night."

       "Yeah, I guess you're right."

       "I don't suppose you want to talk about it, do you?"

       "No.  Not really."

       "That's fine with me.  She's going to be okay, though.  The
police are still looking for the attacker from the description that
Makoto and Rei gave them.  As for her, just a partially torn leg tendon
and a couple of minor abrasions and broken fingers.  On her writing
hand, no less.  She's actually going to have an excuse for not having
her homework for a little while."

       A slight, polite laugh.  Polite as could be expected for a girl
who let down her friend without even thinking twice.  Polite as could
be expected for a g----

       "Ami," ever so forcefully mother interrupts my guilt.  "You can't
live only for her, only for them, forever.  You need to attend to
yourself, your own needs."

       Can't I?  Wasn't that part of the deal?  My destined role?
Forever?

       "You never told them about being admitted to the University on
a trial basis, did you?  Never could accept being separated from them,
like before."

       "Mom, I . . ."

       "No, Ami.  It's all right.  I'm not complaining.  I really don't
understand why you feel a need to always be at their side, but it is
*your* life, and I trust you.  And let that be the end of it."

       And it would be.  She always understood me that way.

       "But there's one more thing.  There was one favor that I was
meaning to ask you this fine morning."

       "Yes?"

       "Let's have breakfast together.  No business.  No interruptions.
No bad things from the past.  No books at the table for either of us.
Let's just have a good mother-daughter breakfast, and talk for a while,
and see where the day takes us."

       I have seen real magic before my eyes.  I have seen the heights
and depths to which the human soul can sink.  I have seen the power to
break worlds, and I have seen the power to save them stored within
the hearts of young, unassuming girls.  I have seen all of this.

       And yet I am never unamazed by my mother.

       "Y . . yeah, I think I'd like that a lot."

       * * * * *

       That was ten minutes ago and that was my story.

       {Beep}

       They say that some people have never lived . . .

       {Incoming videolink communication}

       Until they've died a little as well.

       {Frequency identifier - Tsukino Usagi}

       Welcome, Saturday.

       {Open link?  Y/N?}

       Notice how crisp and pure the air is this morning?

       {Y/N?}

       Like an old friend come to visit.

       {Y/N?}

       Ever so sweet . . .
 

                        - - - - x - - - -
 

****************************************************

"Water which is too pure has no fish."
                     -- Ts'ai Ken T'an

Author's Notes:

Sailor Moon and associated characters are the intellectual property of
Takeuchi Naoko and/or Toei, DiC, Bandai, Kodansha and a host of other
ethereal corporate entities.

The title refers to the hydrological triple point rather than a geometric
triple point (e.g., the Trifolium's [(x2+y2)2+3x2 y-y3=0] origin.)

Thank you for your time.

[email protected]       http://members.tripod.com/gradient

"Triple Point"    Red-1     +Gradient   January 1999
****************************************************