Then what was being in it like, exactly?
When Stan asked that she sighed a great, deep sigh. They were sitting side-by-side on one of the Heechee bedding rolls; she screwed up her face unhappily.
"Sigfrid kept asking me that," she said, sounding apologetic. "I tried to tell him, but I don't think I ever got it exactly right. Part of it was this feeling that I was this really awful smelly, bloated cow of a person. That was because that was what some Heechee thought human beings were like, Sigfrid said. Maybe all of them, only maybe most of them were too polite to show it. Another part of it was that there were all these bad, really awful feelings that were coming out of Achiever. I don't mean just anger and unhappiness, although there were plenty of those. The worst of them was what Achiever felt about himself. I couldn't make much sense of that, Stan. I mean, I don't know why he felt that way. But there sure were some powerful bad feelings inside his head.... And then, you know, there was this other thing. The thing about me suddenly being part of somebody else, and I just don't know how to tell you what that was like."
She was silent for a moment, and Stan took the opportunity. "Strell? What did you mean about being a cow?"
She seemed reluctant. "It's kind of embarrassing. Sometimes I was this fat parade-balloon kind of woman, with breasts as big as basketballs. I was naked. My skin was all purple, and—"
"Wait a minute. You said purple. Were you dreaming in color?"
"It wasn't a dream. But, yes, it was all in color—and touch and smell, too. That's not the worst, though. Sometimes I was fat, but not all that fat, and that was because I wasn't human anymore. I was a Heechee, Stan."
He gaped at her. She nodded. "I know. But that's the way it was. I was a female Heechee, complete with that square head and bald skull and all. That part was really bad, Stan. I was scared half to death."
He hugged her, thinking. Then he had to ask the question. "Strell? How could you tell?"
She turned her head to look up at him. "Tell what?"
"That these women were actually all supposed to be you?"
"Oh. Well, I knew," she said, reaching up to touch the cheekbone that the buffalo had stepped on. "You know, my eyes were always this way in the dream. Stan? Now let's talk about something else, please?"
That was all she would say. Every question after that she answered with, "I don't know," or shook her head and didn't answer at all. She kept on not knowing, no matter how he phrased the questions, until finally she begged him to give it up. "I'm getting tired, Stan," she said plaintively. "Maybe we could go to sleep now."
"I guess," he said absently, and then he nosed into the side of her throat. In a different tone he said, "Do you know what I'd like to do?"
Estrella didn't exactly draw away, but she did stiffen a little. "Honey, I'm sorry. I just don't feel like it."
"Not that," he said. "The other thing."
Then she saw that he was looking at the dream machine. She let go of him completely then, sitting up straight. "I don't think we ought to."
"Why not?"
To answer that question Estrella had a hundred good reasons to offer. It might be dangerous. They might break something. Von Shrink might be angry. It might not even work without von Shrink or one of the Heechee females in attendance. But none of the reasons could prevail against Stan's jealous desire to experience what Estrella had experienced, and in the long run none of them mattered.
"Oh, hell," she said at last, "all right, then. Why not? But don't blame me if we get in a lot of trouble."
V
What was being in the dream machine like?
Stan couldn't answer that question for himself even while it was going on—which wasn't for very long; Estrella put a stop to it after no more than a minute, flinging the lid off her half of the device and climbing out, sobbing.
Then what had it been like, as close as Stan could fit words to it. Like the most vivid and disturbing kind of dream. Like opening someone else's private mail, filled with the most disturbing kind of secrets. Like finding that the one person in the universe you knew best was really someone you hardly knew at all.
What it was not at all like was that terrible Wrath of God that he remembered from long ago in Istanbul. In some ways it was worse. At least that horrible sick yearning that had invaded everyone's mind in those old days had had nothing to do with Stan personally. This one, though, was a whole other matter entirely. It wounded him with blows he had never seen coming. "Estrella?" he said, having just made up his mind to say nothing about it. "Tell me the truth, now. When we make love—I mean, honestly, Strell, am I really all that, you know, like, I mean, clumsy and, well, selfish?"
She wailed, "I told you we shouldn't do it!"
"Yes, but—"
"Yes, but what about me? I can't help the way I look, can I? I'm sorry I'm so ugly!"
"I never said—" he began indignantly, and then shut up. Whether he had ever said it or not was irrelevant. You could deny things you had actually said, or apologize for them. But the idle thoughts that might— sometimes—cross your mind were something else. Either they were there or they weren't there. How could you deny feelings that you hadn't even known you had?
And why the hell had he ever wanted to do this damn stupid thing?
He hugged Estrella to him. The best thing they could do was to never talk about it again, he resolved. A resolution he kept for more than a minute, though not as much as two, while they held each other and agreed that neither of them could be held responsible for things they didn't really mean, because Stan was not only very satisfying, mostly, but definitely the only lover Estrella ever wanted, and Estrella was dear to Stan in all her parts and there was not one single thing he would want changed.
Then he couldn't help himself. "Strell? There was one funny thing—"
"I'm glad you think it was funny!" But she had stopped sobbing.
"No, I mean, I didn't understand it. There was this feeling that you were protecting something, that you didn't want anybody to know— something you were hiding."
She lifted her head and gave him a long look. Then she sighed and said, "I guess I should tell you. It's just that I wasn't absolutely sure, and I didn't know how you'd feel about it, and—"
"Strell! About what?"
She opened her mouth to answer, then looked away. There were noises from outside the apartment, faint but definite. "What's that?" she asked.
"Strell! Tell me!"
"Well," she said, "the thing is, I think I might be pregnant."
Which is precisely when the door-thing blared its summons. Stan went to answer, staring back over his shoulder at the source of this incredible news ... only to find that when he opened it the two female Heechee were there, talking over each other to give him more incredible news still. "It is a bad thing we come to tell you," Salt said mournfully, while Delete added:
"It concerns your home planet. It could not be helped."
And Salt: "No, it could not. Although if our people had had more time—if they had studied the relevant geology with appropriate care—"
Delete made the negative belly-twitch. "No! Not even then, I think. We could not have helped, probably. It would have happened in any case, I believe."
Estrella had reached her limit. "What the hell are you two talking about? What would have happened?"
"The event," Salt explained. "The recent disastrous occurrence which has caused the dying of so many of your speciesmates. It could not have been averted, I believe, so that all we can do now is condole. Which we do with great sincerity."