LESSING'S NOTE

 

They never touch.

 

They never look at one another like the earth and sun and moon would dance in their eyes.

 

When he speaks to her, his voice is impassive.

 

When she speaks to him, her voice carries the message of command.

 

Sometimes they enjoy lunch in the mess hall. It is the union of friends, they say. Sometimes they play Velocity, a pastime of friends. They meet in her ready room, his office, the boardroom, her quarters.

 

All business.

 

What would I give, that they heed the urge of the sun and moon and stars they deny each other?