“Yes, that’s right. Few buildings are really attractive, especially those dealing with necessary production, distribution, communications and so on. So we place them out of sight where they won’t interfere with nature’s beauties. There are other advantages as well. They are easier to heat in the winter, or cool in summer.”
The two men got out and looked about them for a moment. The patio was beautifully done, almost tropically lush with flowers and ferns.
Doctor Horsten said in appreciation, “Your gardener is to be congratulated.”
“Gardener? I have no gardener. Can you gentlemen bring your bags?”
She led the way to two adjoining rooms, saying, “All rooms lead out on the garden. This will be yours, Doctor, and this yours, Citizen Bronston. Over here is the living room. I’ll await you there.”
Ronny entered his room, which amounted to a small suite; a bedroom, a bath, a small sitting room. It was very finely done but obviously with comfort in mind, not luxury. The furniture -was functional, rather than pretty. He appreciated the single painting on the wall. It was in the Chinese tradition. The only other decorative bit was a vase which was either a Mexican pre-Columbian antique or a very good copy. Simplicity was highly regarded on Einstein, he decided. Or, at least, it was in this house.
He left his two bags and went out into the patio again, just as Dorn Horsten emerged from his own suite. They headed for the living room.
Rosemary was sitting on a sofa which faced on a very large window; so large, indeed, that it covered almost a full wall. Ronny, orienting himself, realized that it must be on the opposite side of the hill from where they had entered. There was a spectacular vista beyond. Most certainly they hadn’t seen the window as they approached. This room carried out the theme of the suites—simple and ultra-comfortable. Art was held to a minimum, but what there was, was superlative.
Rosemary came to her feet, smiling. She said, “Your quarters are adequate?”
“Charming,” the doctor told her, bowing slightly in thanks.
“Wizard,” Ronny said. “I’d like to steal that Chinese painting of the fog-bound mountain.”
“It’s yours,” she said.
“Oh, really, I didn’t mean… ”
“But, of course. I’m so pleased that you appreicate a product of my humble efforts. And now, would you gentlemen like a drink?”
“Your humble efforts?” Ronny said, staring at her. “Do you mean you did that? I thought it came from Earth, or, at least, one of the Chinese-settled planets.”
“Oh, no. All of us here on Einstein participate in at least one of the arts. Could I offer a light wine, or perhaps beer? It’s warm today.”
Dorn Horsten cleared his throat and said, “See here, my dear. How do you mean, all of you participate in at least one of the arts? Suppose someone has no talent. Is he forced, despite that, to participate in one of the arts?”
She laughed, as though in deprecation. “We are not happy about that term talent. We find that everyone has some inclination in the arts. Much of our raising of the young is devoted to discovering which one—we include, obviously, the handicrafts. From earliest youth, a child is carefully observed to find its particular tendencies and is encouraged to develop them. I had crayons and watercolors available to me from a period before I can actually remember. As I grew older there were teachers, some of them quite exceptional, to continue to channel my desire to draw and paint. Talent, usually, is the ability to work hard and long at one’s chosen art. What is the old saying? A lazy genius isn’t one.”
Ronny said, “About that drink. I was told you didn’t drink alcohol on Einstein. Or even coffee, for that matter, on the grounds that it’s bad for the health.”
She went over to a beautifully worked piece of wooden furniture and opened two of its doors to emerge with glasses and a long, thin, green bottle, obviously chill. “Nonsense,” she said. “Alcohol is a blessing come down from man’s early days. I believe I read somewhere that there was only one race, in primitive times, that didn’t work out some alcoholic beverage. They were, I believe, the Tasmanians and they contributed absolutely nothing to man’s culture in any field. We don’t utilize the distilled beverages but we enjoy the fermented and brewed. This is a local wine based on the Reisling grape which our people brought with them when they first emigrated from Earth.”
She poured deftly into faintly green goblets and served them both before taking up her own glass.
She said, “To the entry of Einstein into the United Planets confederation.”
They drank to the toast politely.
“Won’t you be seated?” she said. “I’m sure that you have a good many questions.”
Ronny said, seating himself, “Yes, your planet is quite unique.”
She frowned slightly in puzzlement and said, “It is? I have never been overspace. In what way?”
He looked about him. “Well, this house for instance. It almost amounts to being a cave.”
She tinkled a laugh again. “What’s unique about that? A most practical manner in which to live. Houses built on the surface almost invariably deface the landscape. They are ugly, especially when congested.” She pointed upward. “Above us are grass, flowers, trees. Birds and animals find their homes in them. The plant life also releases oxygen into our atmosphere. If such was my hobby, I could even raise vegetables or fruit on my roof.”
Ronny said, “When we were driving from the spaceport, did we pass other houses such as this?”
“Certainly. Quite a few.”
“And they’re all built so that one doesn’t know he’s passing a house unless he knows it’s there?”
“Yes. We make almost a fetish of that.” She took a breath—beautifully—and said, “But I’m being a terrible hostess. I get so caught up in talking to people who have actually come from other worlds. You must be famished.”
In truth, the two had not eaten their mid-day meal, in anticipation of the landing of the Sheppard and the beginning of their new assignment.
Rosemary led the way to the dining room.
Chapter Seven
Dorn Horsten looked around appreciatively, as they seated themselves at the heavy table. He said, “This is your home? Ah, personally, I mean?”
She smiled at him. “Why, yes. As long as I wish to live in it.”
“You said that you had no gardener. But otherwise you must require quite a staff.”
“Staff?”
“Servants.”
“Oh. There are no servants on Einstein.”
Ronny eyed her in disbelief. “You mean that you do all the housework, including the gardening?”
She said, “Why, yes. The house is all but completely automated, you know. All houses are. Drudgery has been eliminated. Now, what will you gentlemen have?”
The table was obviously automated, but there was no menu set into its top, nor screen where a menu could be dialed.
Ronny cleared his throat and said, “What do you have? That is, uh, what are you pushing?”
The girl said, as though in surprise, “Why, anything.”
The two Section G agents looked at her.
“Just anything at all, my dear?” Horsten said.
“Why, yes.”
They blinked at her and Ronny said, “Now, look. Peking Duck. Suppose I wanted Peking Duck as prepared on the planet Mandarin.”
She said, projecting her voice out over the table, “An order of Peking Duck as prepared on the planet Mandarin,” and then she looked questioningly at Doctor Horsten.
He looked back at her levelly and said, deliberately, “I’ll have antipasti cassalinghi, cannelloni, both in the style of the planet Naples. Then scallopine di vitello alia bolognese, in the manner prepared on Firenze. All this with a bottle of Valpolicella.”