I went down to an empty loading bay, activated a terminal, and opened my old backdoor.
It took me fifteen minutes to find the code Yung had called the night before.
The loading bay was silent, dark. The servo-workers had all departed hours before, leaving their mechs standing against the far wall, a squad of dead steel giants.
I did take one precaution. I called Yung’s laboratory, after stepping behind the vid’s pickup, out of sight. After a moment I heard Yung’s thin exasperated voice. „Yes? Yes?“ I tapped the kill switch, satisfied. I wondered how he could bring himself to work such long hours, with a woman like Joanna at home.
My fingers danced over the keypads; it seemed as if my hands had a separate life and knew just what they wanted.
She answered immediately. Her beauty was even more overwhelming, now that I was closer to the screen. She smiled in recognition. „Oh,“ she said. „You’re (he one I saw last night. Let me apologize for Martin. He doesn't mean to be so abrupt.“
I recovered the power of speech. „No, it’s I who should apologize. I startled him.“
Her wonderful smile widened.
I went on hastily. „Now I’m being rude again. My name is Thomas da Cruz. I work with Martin.“
„Joanna Yung,“ she said and nodded, an exquisite gesture. „I’m Martin’s wife. Then you understand, about Martin. You and I — we both have to make allowances for him.“
Her hair shimmered, soft as air. I could imagine the perfume that would cling to that golden cloud; for an instant I could almost smell it, sweet, intense. Her eyes sparkled, and she touched her hair with long tapering fingers.
She's flirting with me, I thought, amazed. The idea reduced me to speechlessness again. In fact I had no real plan for the conversation; I suppose I’d intended to make as charming an apology as possible and see what developed. All I’d really hoped for was another glimpse of her. I felt the beginnings of panic.
„Ah,“ I said. „Well, I’m sure you’re busy. I won’t intrude any longer. “
Her eyes widened, and she leaned close to the pickup so that her face filled the screen. I marveled again at the texture of her skin. „No, I’m not busy at all,“ she said. „I so rarely get a chance to talk to one of Martin’s colleagues. Please, tell me a little about yourself?“
I don’t remember much about what I said over the next hour. She asked about my job, of course, and she drew me out expertly. Something about the way she posed her questions tempted me into enlarging the importance of my job, and I metamorphosed from an acolyte of the machine into a young lion prowling the corridors of power. She seemed willing to see me as I wanted to see myself.
She would say almost nothing about herself. She parried my questions so gracefully that I didn’t truly notice.
At some point, I began to run out of pleasant innocuous things to say. I made some obliquely suggestive remark, something about her beauty, I think. For a moment an uncertain, lost look passed over her face. My heart knotted and I was afraid I had made a mistake. But then she laughed and her eyes sparkled, and she said, „Are you musical, Thomas?“
„I like music, though I ’ve been accused of being a musical barbarian.“
„Do you like InducDance? Would you like to see?“
She rose and moved away from the pickup, and I saw her body for the first time. I was not disappointed. She wore a white caftan, slashed to reveal a glimpse of smooth thigh. She was slender, graceful; she moved across the room with the fluidity of a dancer.
She disappeared, leaving me to look at the empty room. It was blue and silver everywhere; sky-blue floor tiles set in hammered silver grout,
midnight-blue walls lined with tall minors, elegant furniture with powder- blue cushions and spidery silver frames. She returned sheathed in a bodysuit of silver mesh that clung to every contour of her body. Her breasts were small and high, her belly flat, her waist tiny, her legs impossibly long. She was concious o f the effect she had on me. „Do you like it so far“ she said, and laughed.
She pulled on silvery gloves. „Now, when I’m finished, you must tell me what you really think, you must be brutally frank with me.“ She swiveled the pickup to show a different area of the room. An ornate InducDance platform occupied the corner. Golden struts formed an ovoid cage, decorated with sinuous fretwork. Just before she slipped between the struts, she pulled on a head covering and became a silver doll. I could see nothing of her but the flash of her eyes through the holes in the mask.
When the platform sensed her weight, the struts glowed with a soft light. At first she danced slowly, carefully, the movements barely perceptible. The music echoed the dance, quiet tentative trills, low sweet complex chords. Each beautifully controlled gesture drew a corresponding sound from the platform, as it translated the position o f her body into sound. She
was very good. As she developed her theme, the music rose, swelling gradually into a bright rich torrent of notes, until Joanna was a flashing whirling silver glitter in the golden cage.
When she was done and settled in her chair, she pulled off the silver mask. A lock o f her glorious hair tumbled down her cheek. Her eyes were wide with pleasure, and I was transfixed. She looked very much like she had in my AutAn dream, and I wished desperately to be there with her.
„So tell me, Thomas,“ she said.
„Wonderful. I have no words.“
„Really? You liked it?“
„More than I can say. Why aren’t you on the livee, why aren’t you a famous person, why did I have to discover you by accident?“ I was almost incoherent.
She flushed prettily.
„But, surely,“ I said, „it would be even finer to see you perform in person.“
„No,“ she said. Her eyes darkened and she frowned, and even that expression was lovely, on her face. „You can’t, though I would love to invite you. Martin would never permit it.“
„I understand,“ I said, a little stiffly.
The time was late. Yung might soon be home, and how would he react, if he discovered me in intimate conversation with the wife he held so close? Joanna sensed my uneasiness. „You have to go,“ she said sadly.
I looked away. „Yes,“ I muttered.
„But you’ll call me again, won’t you, Thomas?“ Her mouth quivered, and tears welled up in those lovely eyes. I began to understand how lonely she was.
„Of course,“ I said fervently. „Of course.“
She smiled tremulously and brushed at her eyes. „Good. But Thomas. don’t speak to Martin of this, please. It would only make trouble.“
„Certainly, whatever you wish, Joanna. Good-bye, then.“ I sat watching her for a long moment, storing in my memory every detail o f her face, waiting for her to break the connection, until I realized she wasn’t going to. My finger touched the switch.
What son of man could Yung be, to keep such a one as Joanna shut away from life?
I heard a metallic clashing behind me. Turning, I saw Martin Yung swinging himself into the operator cradle of one of the loading bay mechs. He slipped his arms and legs into the sensor sleeves and the mech lurched forward. „Certainly, whatever you wish.. “ he screamed, repeating my words in a shrill hysterical voice. His face was white, distorted. How long had he been listening?
I ran. He lurched in my wake, the mech barely under control, kept erect only by its safety limits. „Come back,“ he shouted, and then he found the mech’s amplifier switch. „COME BACK!“ His voice was loud enough to shake the walls. I ducked through the worker portal just ahead o f my pursuer. „COWARD! COWARD! THIEF!“ he roared.
Did he expect me to stand and be pulped? He reached the portal, which was far too small to pass the mech. I heard him smash the machine’s steel body against the portal, over and over. In the thunder of metal on metal, his amplified sobs were almost inaudible. I went away as swiftly as my trembling legs would сагту me.