She stood near the reflecting pool in Washington, D.C., while glancing at the sunny passersby. She wondered when her companion would arrive.

"He's planning to tell me something, I'm sure of it," Samantha thought, remembering his tone of voice when they last spoke.

Samantha had been doing fund-raising for AIDS research for a long time, and now she wanted out. Or rather, she wanted a change, which meant the same thing. She also had that desire to find a husband and start a family, because she wasn't getting any younger.

Finally her old friend, Edward, arrived. She smiled. AIDS fund-raising or not, she hoped their regular rendezvous would continue, either on her visits to D.C. or his, to Manhattan. They greeted each other.

"Have you ever seen this phenomenon before?" Edward asked. The big event was being set up over the public grounds.

"Yes, in New York, briefly. I was just putting in an appearance," she said in her New Zealand accent.

"When it was first planned, the idea bothered me," said Edward. "But I saw it a couple of years ago, behind the White House, near the obelisk, and I was very moved."

"Edward, speaking of the White House, I'll be counting on you this coming election to let us know what to expect, should there be a transition at the Oval Office."

Edward laughed. His face, so creviced, still looked youthful, and he was slender and graceful. He became somber. "Actually, I'm leaving the country for good, before November, Samantha, so if I'm to be of any use, it'll have to be by long distance."

"Why are you leaving? And where to?"

"To help a friend. In Canada. He was once my lover. I want to be there for him. He's been HIV positive for years. His health was good, until recently. And I'm thinking, given my age and my world-weary view of things, that this might be my retirement." He chuckled.

The young woman was crestfallen.

She expressed her sympathies, of course. Then, biting her lower lip, she let her eyes trail off to the AIDS quilt. There were hundreds of cloth panels lying in the brilliant sunlight, waiting to be seen by the public.

Samantha felt a bitter wave of nostalgia just then. It was 1992. This crisis had been defining her life since the early eighties. And this dear friend of hers, standing before her, was leaving the country for Canada on a sad mission. She hated dwelling on pain, since pain was always around you in this crisis, anyway. She took control of the rendezvous.

"Well, what can you tell me about this presidential transition, should we be likely to have one."

"You mean if President Bush loses?" laughed Edward. "Despite his big victory in the Gulf, way too many Americans are anxious about the savings and loan thing. Billions of dollars, billions, it'll cost. I think some would-be supporters now want him out."

"He hasn't been good on AIDS issues. I'd be glad to see him go. But, how do we AIDS advocates prepare for a change?"

"Show the incoming president and his staff that you have as good a working knowledge of this government as any lobbyist. Prove that your insights are based not only on good intentions, but also on knowledge, the kind of knowledge that has coinage in this town. I mean, knowing the ins and outs of its agencies and offices. What's that spin-off group from the coalition --?" He meant the elite corps. "They wrote that critique of the government's AIDS program, breaking it up into components, evaluating each agency-"

"It was a strong report," Samantha said. "They've got good connections, those people, and work hard to master what they learn. They're very professional. They take pride in their work."

"-Well, what I meant to say was, it demonstrated savvy."

Samantha said, "Several activist groups, like the coalition, are proposing Manhattan projects."

"Good. Believe me, the coalition still can have impact on the government," said Edward.

"Should people be calling for an AIDS Czar?" she asked.

"Yes. Bronsky is one of those people calling for it, I believe. Well, Bronsky is right. But my main point is that whoever does the proposing, had better have full knowledge of the government's structure to gain some credibility."

She nodded, and was pensive for a moment. Then she chuckled.

"Speaking of the activists, a few people in the movement have speculated that the FBI has infiltrated them." She laughed.

"They have," Edward said. Her smile vanished.

Both knew they were talking about something potentially sinister, a violation of America's First Amendment, perhaps.

"Inside the coalition?" she asked, cautiously. He nodded. "Why did the FBI do that?" she asked.

"Don't know, yet. Reports I've seen were mostly blacked out."

"Hunh...? Well, some activists would feel insulted if the FBI HADN'T infiltrated them, I suppose." Then, she had a thought. "Are they still in the coalition?" she asked.

Edward nodded, again.

"Oh, my," said Samantha. "Those poor activists." Edward smiled, ironically. "What should we do about this matter?"

Edward shrugged and said, "I don't know."

Tourists began to walk through the AIDS Quilt, and Edward and Samantha joined them.

A breeze rippled the squares of cloth, sometimes disruptively. Samantha got an apprehensive feeling in her stomach as she moved toward the sprawling display. It was a mixture of grief and anxiety that she was suffering. The event was well attended. Many people cried. Edward and Samantha were moved by what they saw as they walked among the hundreds of panels commemorating the dead. The numbing sound of the breeze muffled, a little, the sounds of people around them.

Samantha's thoughts, however, kept returning to what Edward told her about the upcoming election, as well as about the AIDS Czar and the FBI.

She had known some of the dead people whose names were sewn into the Quilt. The tapestry stretching over the expanse brought back memories of the past eight years of her public AIDS work. She was mournful, that hour. She wanted to find closure to that part of her life. In a way, even her friend Edward was leaving that era behind.

By the end of the hour, she felt drained, and knew that a long-term change was needed. "This winter, I'm retiring," she thought. She had never been more decisive in her life.