Stan's impatience was mounting. "Kugels," he reminded. "What the hell are Kugels?"
"I keep on doing it, do I not?" von Shrink said remorsefully. "Let me try to clarify what I have been saying. The reason we call the individual particles of the Assassins Kugels is that they exist in what is known as a Kugelblitz. What is a Kugelblitz? It is the name given to a black hole whose contents are energy, rather than matter. You see, that is what the Assassins are. They are energy creatures, and long ago, before the Heechee retreated to their Core, where we now are...."
Von Shrink didn't start at the beginning, exactly, but close enough to try Stan's patience. But, as Estrella seemed to be hanging on every word, he kept his peace. He ate while he listened, one bizarre combination of textures and flavors after another as he heard one weird story after another of races slaughtered and Heechee deciding to retreat to the Core. He kept on listening long after he had finished eating and the two of them had picked up all the crumbs and wrappers and put them in the disposer— they still listening, and the nonexistent (but nevertheless a person, and not only that but a person who possessed the gift of dominating a conversation) Sigfrid von Shrink still talking.
It was all interesting enough. All the same, Stan was not sorry when their doorbell growled. "Excuse me," he said, glad enough to get off that padded, but still far from comfortable, Heechee perch. Surprisingly, though, Estrella had listened attentively throughout and still wanted more. "One thing, Dr. von Shrink," she said. "These Assassins? Are they still around? Should we be worrying about them?"
Stan tarried for the answer, but it took a moment to come. "As to your first question," von Shrink said at last, "yes, they are still around, in their Kugelblitz. As to your second—well, they are being watched very carefully in a large wheel-shaped space station built for that purpose. But yes, perhaps we do need to worry—not much, perhaps, but a bit. Now should we not answer your door?"
Von Shrink himself led the way through the connecting rooms to the outside door. Where he waited politely for Stan to open it.
There was no one there. Whoever had rung the bell had already gone away, but not without leaving a curious object behind. The thing was constructed of woven strands of blue-gleaming Heechee metal and was roughly, it seemed to Stan, the size of a coffin. He had no idea of its use or provenance.
Sigfrid von Shrink, however, clearly did. "Stan, Estrella," he said, sounding almost remorseful, "this is the device I have been waiting for, and now I must confess that I have not been candid with you. The reason I am here is that I am going to ask a favor of you, and it has to do with this device. Which," he added, "we'd better carry inside, shouldn't we? Estrella? Could you give us a hand here, please?"
That turned out to mean that Estrella took one end of the thing while Stan took the other. Sigfrid von Shrink, being impalpable, was therefore of no use in any kind of heavy lifting. He led the way, though.
Fortunately the thing was lighter than it looked. Von Shrink stopped near the exit to the balcony. "You can set it down here," he said, smiling. "Now, if you'll just lift the top section off—they're hinged, you see—yes, that's fine." He bent to examine it at close range. The thing had opened into a pair of woven metal shells, each with a woven metal lid. For a moment Stan wondered if this might be the Heechee version of a double bed.
He was pretty sure it wasn't when von Shrink straightened up and said, "It looks like it's in working order. By any chance, do either of you recognize this? No? Well, I didn't expect you would but—I'm not quite sure how old you are—do either of you remember those times when everybody in the world seemed to go crazy for a little while?"
"Sure," Stan said, and Estrella chimed in:
"The crazy times, yes. They were very bad on the ranch, but they stopped when we were on Gateway. What people said was that they were caused by some orphan kid, using a Heechee dream machine kind of thing. I think the kid's name was something like Wan?"
"Exactly like Wan," von Shrink agreed. "That indeed was his name, and he's still around, too, and still causing trouble. But Wan is not the subject of our present concerns. Since you remember that much, you will understand when I tell you that this thing is a version of what you called a dream machine, technically known as a 'telempathic psychokinetic transceiver.' This particular model, however, isn't capable of causing that sort of widespread trouble. Its range is too short. What the Heechee use this for is to prevent antisocial behavior." He patted it, or gave the impression of patting it, almost affectionately. "The way it works, if the two of you were to get into the two sides of it and it were properly activated, each of you would at once feel everything the other was feeling. You see? You would even know things the other had in his subconscious but wasn't himself consciously aware of."
Stan had been looking puzzled and feeling a tad resentful of this lecturing, but now his interest was piqued. "Really?" he asked. "You mean, like even things that Strell didn't know about herself?"
But Estrella, who had been thinking along the same lines, frowned. "I'm not sure I'd want the whole world listening in like that."
"Of course not, my dear," von Shrink soothed. "It wouldn't happen that way. Wan's machine in the Oort cloud was broadcasting to the whole solar system. This one is a closed circuit for just the two of you. Or rather," he said, sounding a bit uneasy, "for one of you and someone else. You see, I'd like to try using it to see if it could help Achiever."
The expression on Estrella's face was mostly of surprise, with a touch of worry. Stan's was more like anger and affront. "You mean jump in that thing with that lunatic?" he demanded.
Von Shrink sighed. "I know it is rather a lot to ask of you," he said. "Opening your mind to a nonhuman, and a rather troubled one, at that." He paused for a moment, congitating. Then he said, "You'll certainly want to talk it over before you give me an answer, won't you? So I'll leave you for a bit. Well," he added honestly, "not for that reason alone. I don't think you can have any idea how stressful it is for a machine intelligence like myself to try to carry on real-time conversations with organics like the two of you. The processing rates are so different, you see, and I do have certain other—ah—concerns which need attending to." For a moment Stan thought he was going to tell what those other concerns were, but he didn't. He simply added, "So I'll run a few errands, and then I'll be back to talk to you after Achiever gets here. Good-bye for now," he finished, and walked out of the room.
For someone who had never been flesh and blood himself he was certainly good at simulating it, Stan thought. A moment later he and Estrella heard the sssshhhh of the outer door opening and closing. Whether it had actually done so, or whether that was simply more simulating for the sake of enhancing the illusion that von Shrink was physically real Stan could not say.
In any case, he was gone. But the problem he had left them remained.
II
After Sigfrid von Shrink left, Stan and Estrella sat wordless on their perches. It wasn't that they had nothing to say. They had too much, and didn't know where to begin.
Stan was the one to make a start. "That son of a hitch," he announced, "has some nerve! Where does he get off, coming in here and asking me to swap minds with that nutcase?"
Estrella didn't answer, exactly, except to say, "He's a nice man, Stan."
"Well, hell! Everybody's nice when they're trying to talk you into something!"