Dancing On Air Chapter One "When a man has been guilty of a mistake, either in ordering his own affairs, or in directing those of State, or in commanding an army, do we not always say, So-and-so has made a false step in this affair? And can making a false step derive from anything but lack of skill in dancing?" Moliere      Sometimes I understand the words. Sometimes I do not understand the words.    Eric brings me to the exercise yard. A man and a woman stand there. The man is tall. The woman is short. She has long black fur on her head. She smells angry.    Eric says, "This is Angel. Angel, this is John Cole and Caroline Olson."    "Hello," I say.    "I'm supposed to understand that growl?" the woman says. "Might as well be Russian!"    "Caroline," the man says, "You promised . . . "    "I know what I promised." She walks away. She smells very angry. I don't understand. My word was hello.    Hello is one of the easy words.    The man says, "Hello, Angel." He smiles. I sniff his shoes and bark. He smells friendly. I smell two cats and a hot dog and street tar and a car. I feel happy. I like cars.    The woman comes back. "If we have to do this, then let's just do it, for Chrissake. Let's sign the papers and get out of this hole."    John Cole says, "The lawyers are all waiting in Eric's office."    Eric's office smells of many people. I go to my place beside the door. I lie down. Maybe later somebody takes me in the car.    A woman looks at many papers and talks. "A contract between the Biomod Canine Protection Agency, herein referred to as the party of the first part, and the New York City Ballet, herein referred to as the party of the second part, in fulfillment of the requirements of Columbia Insurance Company, herein referred to as the party of the third part, as those requirements are set for in Policy 438-69, Section 17, respecting prima ballerina Caroline Olson. The party of the first part shall furnish genetically -modified canine protection to Caroline Olson under, and not limited to, the following conditions . . ."    The words are hard.    I think words I can understand.    My name is Angel. I am a dog. I protect. Eric tells me to protect. No people can touch the one I protect except safe people. I love people I protect. I sleep now.    "Angel," Eric says from his chair, "wake up now. You must protect."    I wake up. Eric walks to me. He sits next to me. He puts his voice in my ear.    "This is Caroline. You must protect Caroline. No one must hurt Caroline. No one must touch Caroline except safe people. Angel - protect Caroline."    I smell Caroline. I am very happy. I protect Caroline.    "Jesus H. Christ," Caroline says. She walks away.    I love Caroline.      We go in the car. We go very far. Many people. Many smells. John drives the car. John is safe. He many touch Caroline. John stops the car. We get out. There are many tall building and many cars.    "You sure you're going to be okay?" John Cole says.    "You've protected your investment, haven't you?" Caroline snarls. John drives away.    A man stands by the door. The man says, "Evening Miss Olson."    "Evening, Sam. This is my new guard dog. The company insists I have one, after . . . what's been happening. They say the insurance company is paranoid. Yeah, sure I need a dog like I need a knee injury."    "Yes, ma'am. Doberman, isn't he? He looks like a gooood ol' dog. Hey big fella, what's your name?"    "Angel," I say.    The man jumps and makes a noise. Caroline laughs.    "Bioenhanced. Great for my privacy, right? Rover, Sam is safe. Do you hear me? Sam is safe."    I say, "My name is Angel."    Caroline says, "Sam, you can relax. Really. He only attacks on command, or if I scream, or if he hasn't been told a person is safe and that person touches me."    "Yes, Ma'am." Sam smells afraid. He looks at me hard. I bark and my tail moves.    Caroline says, "Come on, Fido. Your spy career is about to begin."    I say, "My name is Angel."    "Right," Caroline says.    We go in the building. We go in the elevator. I say, "Sam has a cat. I smell Sam's cat."    "Who the fuck cares," Caroline says.    I am a dog.    I must love Caroline.

Copyright ©1999 Nancy Kress