"Yes."
"But here in omniality we can just shut it down and file it away when the picnic's over?"
"Yes."
"Your technology fascinates me," I said. "It's a wonder we can talk to each other at all."
"I've had the advantage of living through your history."
"True. And you know where we're headed."
"Only in general ways. And it's not immutable, as I tried to tell you earlier."
"You're not really going to ride this thing all the way back to your own times, are you?"
"We've ridden it this far."
"You said yourself that the Earth doesn't even go that distance."
"Well, there's that. But we've still a goodly way to go."
"You're looking for something, aren't you? Hunting after some event in time you're not certain about—or some turning point. It's a probability thing, isn't it?"
"Which question do you want me to answer first? Yes, there is an element of probability there, as in everything. Who knows what we might find? And the nature of the beast determines its disposition."
I refilled our glasses.
"Still not giving anything away, are you, Medusa?"
Her hand moved nearer mine, our fingers intertwined. We watched the emerald city rise before us.
FIVE · BRAINS AND BISCUITS
Finally, the emerald city slowed in its growth and came to a halt. I applauded lightly.
"Well-citied, lady."
She clinked her glass against my own and we finished
the wine.
Then she rose and nodded toward her handiwork.
"The tour, of course," she said.
"Of course," I responded, and we linked arms and hiked off toward the city singing, "We're off to see the wizard."
"You say that you really are a writer for an American magazine," she said, after catching her breath.
"I not only say it, I am."
"Does that mean you'll be going home once you've gathered enough material?"
"Be serious, " I said. "I don't have a story. No one's going to believe all this. I just want to be here with you."
"I like your attitude, Alf," she said, and she entered the gates of the city and took me in.
We wandered the streets and galleries, then took high bridges over broad thoroughfares, had views from a dozen lofty apartments. Moving like green thoughts in a green brain, we explored tunnels, parks, plazas, commercial districts. The place was quiet save for our voices, our footfalls, our echoes, and a few creaks of settling structures.
It was as I swung my left foot forward, passing beneath an archway, that I knew it would come from my right— whatever it was. And Glory was to my left.
I felt my body relaxing downward into my midsection as, with the motion of my left foot, I kept all of my weight on the right and pivoted on it, drawing the left back, inward.
Suddenly, two men came around the corner at my right. The nearer threw a punch at me. The one to his right was reaching for Glory. Then another came into view behind them. I struck immediately, with my left foot, at the nearest shin. I felt a satisfying grating as the man's expression turned to one of pain. With the second knuckle of the second finger of my left hand, I drove a blow into the hollow of his right temple, most of my weight behind it. He began to fall, but I caught hold of him, turned him slightly, and pushed him into the man who was reaching for Glory.
Continuing my turning motion to my left, letting my arms lead it, I dropped to my left knee, raising my right fist to somewhere in the vicinity of my left ear. I uncoiled immediately as I rose, driving my right elbow into the low midsection of the second man.
Then I was rising as he was bending forward—in slow motion, it seemed—and my left hand rose and fell, striking him across the back of his neck, my weight sinking again with the strike.
Pivoting leftward as he fell, to where the man I had knocked off-balance with the body of the first had recovered, I leapt over his fallen companion. The man snapped a kick and threw a punch at me. I slid my left foot forward, turning, avoiding the kick, parrying the punch. My left arm passed behind him as I continued the turn, hand falling to rest upon his left shoulder.
I attacked his eyes with my right hand, but he was able to catch my wrist. Immediately, I raised my left hand from his shoulder, caught hold of his left ear, and, with a twisting, wrenching movement, tore it loose.
He screamed and his grip on my right wrist wavered as I let my left hand fall back to his shoulder, dropped my center, turned and, continuing my attack on his eyes, took him over backwards. As he struck the ground, my right elbow dropped to strike him in the solar plexus. This brought him partway upright again, and a perfect target for the blow that crushed his larynx.
I rose, still alert, but there were no others. I brushed dust from my left knee. Glory spat once, to her left, and I glanced at her in time to see her tongue dart, her lower jaw change position.
"Getting rid of some venom?" I asked.
She shrugged, then smiled. "Reflex," she said. "You're a very good fighter, All"
"Grew up in a tough neighborhood," I said.
"That was not tough neighborhood fighting, Alf. Those were killing techniques. You know them well and you used them without hesitation. The seven clones all had reputations as deadly warriors. Even Pietro, the artist, was a brawler—hung out with Cellini a good deal."
I gestured.
"So who might these guys be, and why do you think they attacked us?" I asked.
Even as I spoke, they vanished like pictures from a screen.
"Nobody in particular," she replied. "Omniality's Central Casting sent them over when I UHFed my wishes on the way up here."
"Testing. You could have just asked me," I said. "I'd have told you I'm pretty good in a scrap. Even studied a little self-defense technique, here and there."
"That was all offense, Alf."
"Generic term," I said. "Thanks for showing me the city. Is there anything else?"
"Don't be angry," she said. "It was too good an opportunity to pass up. No real danger. Let me show you the rest of the place. There is a lovely apartment with a master bedroom in the highest spire. Wonderful view."
She took my arm.
"No more surprises?"
"Only pleasant ones," she said.
Nor was she incorrect. Later, we lay for a long while, drowsing, watching through the spire's great window as the day dimmed over our deserted city. An almost spiritual feeling of satisfaction came upon me in my sated state as I watched the spire's long, pointed shadow go forth, along with those of the domes at its base. I remarked, "Hsssss."
"'Hssss,'" she replied.
"Hs hsss."
"Hss. Thank you."
"You've installed a day-night cycle here."
"Yes, everything for verisimilitude," she said.
I stretched and sat up. "Shall we go and walk under the stars? Head back to our grove?"
"Hs— Damn!" she said. "Stars. I forgot. Sorry." She raised a hand and pointed at the sky. A bright point of light burst within the heavens. "There," she said. "A promise. It will hold us until I can fetch more."
She sat up and fumbled after her clothing. I did the same. The landscapes of our bodies were fiery in the red star's light.
Minutes later, arms about each other, we entered the lift and plunged earthward. As we passed out of the city she gestured lightly and a sprinkling of stars occurred in the eastern half of the sky. "They figure in the earliest consciousness of the race," she commented. "Some anthropologists tell us that the earliest myths, with their hopes, fears, and ideals, had their roots in the constellations. Or was it the other way around? No matter. Religion, philosophy, tales of adventure and romance may all go back to the pictures in the sky." She gestured again and the Big Dipper appeared.