As the glow of the screen darkened, Esther said, “Shall I turn the room light off?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’ll turn it down, then.” She did something to the knob and the room dimmed. In a quick lithe gesture she slipped off her smock. Her body was smooth and pale, with narrow hips and small, girlish breasts whose translucent skin revealed a network of fine blue veins. She reminded me very much of Aster Mikkelsen as Aster had looked on that spy pickup the week before. Aster… Esther… for one moment of dreamy confusion I confounded the two and wondered why a world-famous biochemist would be doubling as a tart. Smiling amiably, Esther stretched out on the bed, lying on her side with her knees drawn up; it was a friendly, conversational posture, nothing blatant about it. I was grateful for that. I had expected a girl in such a place to lie back, part her legs, and say, “Come on, buddy, get aboard,” and I was relieved that Esther did no such thing. It occurred to me that in my interview below, the computer had sized up my personality, marked me as a member of the inhibited academic class, and had passed along to Esther, preparing herself for work, a memorandum to the effect that I was to be treated in a dignified manner.
I sat down alongside her.
“Would you like to talk awhile?” she asked. “We have plenty of time.”
“All right. You know, I’ve never been here before.”
“I do know.”
“How?”
“The computer told me. The computer tells us everything.”
“Everything?My name?”
“Oh, no, not your name! I mean, all the personal things.”
I said, “So what do you know about me, Esther?”
“You’ll see in a little while.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Then she said, “Did you see the man from the future when you came in?”
“The one called Vornan-19?”
“Yes. He’s supposed to be here today. Just about this time. We got a special notice over the master line. They say he’s awfully handsome. I’ve seen him on the screen. I wish I’d get a chance to meet him.”
“How do you know you aren’t with him right now?”
She laughed. “Oh, no! I know I’m not!”
“But I’m masked. I could be—”
“You aren’t. You’re just teasing me. If I was getting him, they would have notified me.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he prefers secrecy.”
“Well, maybe so, but anyway I know you’re not the man from the future. Mask or no mask, you aren’t fooling me.”
I let my hand roam along the smoothness of her thigh. “What do you think of him, Esther? Do you believe he’s really from the year 2999?”
“Don’t you think so?”
“I’m asking you what you think.”
She shrugged. Taking my hand, she drew it slowly up over her taut belly until it was cupping the small cool mound of her left breast, as though she hoped to deflect my troublesome questions by leading me into the act of passion. Pouting a little, she said, “Well, they all say he’s real. The President and everyone. And they say he’s got special powers. That he can give you a kind of electric shock if he wants.” Esther giggled suddenly. “I wonder if — if he can shock a girl while he’s — you know, while he’s with her.”
“Quite likely. If he’s really what he says he is.”
“Why don’t you believe in him?”
I said, “It all seems phony to me. That a man should drop out of the sky — literally — and claim to come from a thousand years in the future. Where’s the proof? How am I supposed to know he’s telling the truth?”
“Well,” Esther said, “there’s that look in his eyes. And his smile. There’s something strange about him, everyone says. He talks strange too, not with an accent, exactly, but yet his voice comes out peculiar. I believe in him, yes. I’d like to make love with him. I’d do it for free.”
“Perhaps you’ll have the chance,” I said.
She grinned. But she was growing restless, as though this conversation exceeded the boundaries of the usual sort of small talk she was in the habit of making with dilatory clients. I pondered the impact that Vornan-19 had had even on this crib-girl, and I wondered what Vornan might be doing elsewhere in this building at this very moment. I hoped someone in Kralick’s outfit was monitoring him. Ostensibly I was in here to keep an eye on him, but, as they must have known, there was no way for me to make contact with Vornan once we were past the lobby, and I feared an outbreak of our guest’s by-now-familiar capacity for creating chaos. It was beyond my control, though. I slid my hands across Esther’s accessible sleekness. She lay there, lost in dreams of embracing the man from the future, while her body undulated in the passionate rhythms she knew so well. The computer had prepared her adequately for her task; as our bodies joined, she slid into the position I had chosen, and she discharged her duties with energy and a reasonable counterfeit of desire.
Afterward we rolled apart. She looked satisfactorily satisfied; part of the act, I assumed. She indicated the washstand and snapped on the molecular cleanser so that I could be purified of the stains of lust. We still had time left, and she said, “Just for the record: wouldn’t you like to meet Vornan-19? Just to convince yourself that he’s the real thing?”
I debated. Then I said gravely, “Why, yes, I think I would. But I suppose I never shall.”
“It’s exciting to think that he’s right here in this building, isn’t it? Why, he might be right next door! He might be coming here next… if he wants another round.” She crossed the room to me and slipped her arms about me. Large, glossy eyes fastened on my own. “I shouldn’t be talking about him so much. I don’t know how I started. We aren’t supposed to mention other men when — when — listen, did I make you happy?”
“Very much, Esther. I wish I could show—”
“Tipping isn’t allowed,” she said hastily as I fumbled for my credit plate. “But on the way out the computer may ask you for a report on me. They pick one out of ten customers for a sampling. I hope you’ll have a good word for me.”
“You know I will.”
She leaned up and kissed me lightly, passionlessly, on the lips. “I like you,” she said. “Honestly. That isn’t just a standard line. If you ever come back here, I hope you’ll ask for me.”
“If I ever do, I certainly will,” I said, meaning it. “That’s a solemn promise.”
She helped me dress. Then she vanished through her door, disappearing into the depths of the building to perform some rite of purification before taking on her next assignment. The screen came to life again, notifying me that my credit account would be billed at the standard rate, and requesting me to leave by the rear door of my cubicle. I stepped out onto the glidewalk and found myself drawn through a region of misty perfumed loveliness, a vaulted gallery whose high ceiling was festooned with strips of shimmertape; so magical was this realm that I scarcely noticed anything until I discovered that I was descending once more, gliding into a vestibule as large as the one through which I had entered, but at the opposite side of the building.