Her viewpoint looked down at the furry, innocuous merlind that cowered between his legs. "That's not enough time, Tafilis!"
"Tough. One, two...."
Her viewpoint fumbled out his control module, punched at the screen with clumsy fingers.
"... fourteen, sixteen...."
Her viewpoint's merlind was changing, growing bands of armor and long claws, but too slowly, too slowly. Its liquid eyes still looked up at its master in fear and confusion.
".. .eighteen, nineteen..."
"Wait; we're not ready..."
"Twenty!" Tafilis bent forward to press the release of the leash, and her viewpoint was still not ready.
"No!" But then a disorienting calm descended on her viewpoint, who put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the splinter gun he'd taken from his mother's armory that morning.
With the part of her self that was still Arriangel, she noticed that the databar had turned a brilliant crimson, and was flashing a new message, "MNEMONIC VALIDITY: DIVERGING."
Her viewpoint pointed the gun at the monster. As it sprang toward his still-helpless pet, he fired. The spinning wires strummed the air and cut the creature into rags. The remnants blew back and splashed into the pool, still squirming.
Tafilis glared, face dead white, little spots of angry red high on his cheekbones. "You cheated, you little snot. I'll make you sorry for that."
"I'm already sorry. But I couldn't let you kill Jackrat, like you did Tobita. Mama will buy you another merlind; don't be mad."
Her viewpoint approached the pool and looked down into the water. Streamers of blood flowed lazily with the current. The ripples died away, and she saw a serious little face reflected there, identical but not the same as the horrible Tafilis.
"Memfis," she whispered. "You have a twin? Poor Memfis."
* * *
THE SCREEN went dark, and the hood rose from Memfis's face. He seemed a bit pale, and sweat glistened on his forehead.
"Sorry,” he said. "I wouldn't have picked that memory."
"The boy . . . that was your brother? Your twin?"
"Yes. He's my partner now. We two are the principal shareholders in i lie corporation." .
"He's here?" She felt a shudder of dread pass through her. That monster? Here?
Memfis smiled, a bit ruefully. "I'm afraid so. He's talented in his way; anyway, he's my brother, so I must put up with him. Well, enough about Tafilis. Did you understand the retroprobe — what was happening?"
"I'm not sure."
"I'll explain. That was a memory of my childhood — up to a point. Then it became a fantasy." His eyes darkened, and he looked down. "I didn't have the splinter gun that day, and Bones killed Jackrat. Like it killed the next two merlinds I got, until I learned not to want them anymore."
"That's terrible," she said.
"It was a long time ago, Arriangel." He shook himself and smiled. "But the point is, the retroprobe lets us go back into our memories and change something — a poor decision, a bit of bad luck, an attitude, perhaps. Something. And then we see how it might have been. How it might have been. ... Do you seer
"I understand. But... what does this have to do with me?" She was honestly puzzled. Her life had been remarkably free of regrets; except for her enslavement, she could think of nothing she would change.
That look of detached compassion fell over his beautiful features again. She was abruptly very uncomfortable. "Why do you look at me that way?"
He took her hand gently. "Arriangel. Think about this. You've been lucky enough to be loved many times. Why so many?"
"I don't know what you mean." And she didn't, but she sensed a criticism in his questions.
"I mean, what happened? Why did you never choose to stay with your lovers?"
"What an odd question. No one stays together forever, do they?"
Memfis laughed softly, a sound of sad amusement. "Remember what I said before I bought you, Arriangel. That very few can love."
"But I loved! I did! It's not my fault that something always happened to change things." She was astonished to find her eyes full of tears.
"Well," he said in a soothing voice. "We can make it right, under the probe.”
The tears leaked down her cheeks. "But why? Why are you doing this?"
He seemed surprised, and then contrite. "You're right. I really haven't explained yet. Listen, then. I'm an artist; my form is making love." He smiled at her expression. "Oh no, not the physical act, Arriangel. No. That's both too subtle and too limited for me; it's also too crowded a field. Everyone's an expert; isn't that the case? No. What I do is different.
"I record great loves; great and genuine loves. I have few competitors and fewer peers. And love is always in fashion, always marketable. Few can truly love, but everyone is curious, and what they're most curious about is this: how does it feel to be truly loved? So I find a person like you, someone who is beautiful and sweet and demonstrably lovable. And then I mine the memories of their greatest love. Finally I assemble those memories into a sensie chip; it becomes a distillation of one of the strongest experiences humans can have."
"But... why me? You just said that I've never loved." She felt a sudden hot pang of resentment, and her eyes went dry. "At least, not by your standards."
"It doesn't matter — or so I hope. You have all the necessary qualities, Arriangel. You were wealthy, and so, to most of the people in the pangalac worlds, your life was already a dream. Therefore you had the leisure to indulge in romance. You were born beautiful; you were always beautiful — and you know it, which gives an unmistakable flavor to your mind, a taste the rest of us hunger for." He kissed her hand, a courtly, artificial gesture. "I don't know yet what went wrong, but we'll find it and fix it, under the probe."
"I don't know," she said, in an uncertain voice.
"No, no. Don't fear. And remember, if you can give me what I ask, I'll give you back your freedom."
She was afraid to believe him, and her distrust must have been obvious.
He laughed. "There's no altruism involved, Arriangel. When I publish the chip, you'll be famous. When you're free, your fame will feed the chip's fame, and the chip's will feed yours. The corporation will profit from that interaction, of course. Publicity is all-important, even for artists — if they don't want to starve for their art." His expression darkened, as if he found that reality unpalatable.
When he was gone, she waited in the probe.
The brothers sat in the control room. On the screen, Arriangel sat up ¦it might in the retroprobe, a look of repressed terror on her lovely features.
"You might have chosen a less frightening memory for my demonstration," said Memfis.
Tefilis shrugged. "No great harm done, eh?" He turned to Memfis. "Anyway, she's a poor choice for your purposes, Brother. My wager on that."
Memfis touched the dataslate, and the hood of the probe lowered over Arriangel's face. "Your wager? How much?"
Tafilis grinned, a predatory glitter of white teeth. "Six weeks' profits on your half of the operation and a share of your stock to me, if you fail with her. The same to you, if I'm wrong. And just to keep you honest, you get only three tries."
"Done," said Memfis carelessly, all his attention now given to the probe's primary screen.
"Ahh...," said Tafilis in cheerful satisfaction. "You're never going to win this bet; I wonder why you keep making it. One day our legacy will all be mine. But don't worry, Brother. I'll always keep a place for you."
She felt the mask descend. When it covered her eyes, she felt a brief wrench in her senses, and then she was elsewhere, long ago....
She found herself walking alone down a familiar corridor, hearing the sounds of her classmates settling into their learning environments. She was a bit late, but not anxious. Her teachers would wait, and none would dare speak harshly to her.