Siberia was back in the act. Then Gibraltar. Then Munich.
"Elaine," I cried. "You're coming home—now!"
I cut the AGS; then reactivated it and she was here, oh! so wondrously close to me, and the mayor handed her a pen and she signed the marriage license and—
Sosnowski said he was sorry.
The chaplain arrived. I refuse to mention his name or faith; he asks for anonymity. Suffice it to say that he is a man of God and a man of science.
He looked at me questioningly and I nodded. The service began.
Elaine heard parts of the ceremony at sixteen different locations in the world. And my errant colleagues (bless them!), despite their playful reactivations of their AGS units, maintained a decent silence when the chaplain made the fateful invitation to that someone to speak now or forever hold his peace.
At last the chaplain said, "Do you, Robert, take this woman—there at Hanford on the monitor—to be thy lawful wedded wife?"
And I said, "I do," and hoped I didn't sound facetious as I added, "except that she's at Gibraltar now!"
"Do you, Elaine, take this man Robert—"