The man was taller than Mario by several inches. His chest was smooth and wide corded with powerful sinew. In spite of almost over-careful courtesy, he gave an impression of overpowering, overriding confidence.
"Mr. Roland Mario," said the girl. She added drily, "He's got eight thousand dollars."
The young man nodded gravely, reached out his hand. "My name is Mervyn Alien." He looked at the girl. "Is that all, Thane?"
"That's all for tonight." She left
"Can't keep going on eight thousand a night," grumbled Mervyn Alien. "Sit down, Mr. Mario."
Mario took a seat. "The adventure business must have tremendous expenses," he observed with a tight grin.
"Oh, no," said Alien with wide candid eyes. "To the contrary. The operators have a tremendous avarice. We try to average twenty million a day profit. Occasionally we can't make it."
"Pardon me for annoying you with carfare," said Mario. "If you don't want it, I'll keep it."
Alien made a magnanimous gesture. "As you please."
Mario said, "The receptionist told me that ten million buys the dullest of your services, and ten thousand something fairly wild. What do I get for nothing? Vivisection?"
Alien smiled. "No. You're entirely safe with us. That is to say, you suffer no physical pain, you emerge alive."
"But you won't give me any particulars? After all, I have a fastidious nature. What you'd consider a good joke might annoy me very much."
Mervyn Alien shrugged blandly. "You haven't spent any money yet. You can still leave."
Mario rubbed the arms of his chair with the palms of his hand. "That's rather unfair. I'm interested, but also I'd like to know something of what I'm getting into."
Alien nodded. "Understandable. You're willing to take a chance, but you're not a complete fool. Is that it?"
"Exactly."
Alien straightened a pencil on his desk. "First, I'd like to give you a short psychiatric and medical examination. You understand," and he flashed Mario a bright candid glance, "we don't want any accidents at the Chateau d'lf."
"Go ahead," said Mario.
Alien slid open the top of his desk, handed Mario a cap of crinkling plastic in which tiny wires glittered. "Encephalo-graph pick-up. Please fit it snugly."
Mario grinned. "Call it a lie-detector."
Alien smiled briefly. "A lie-detector, then."
Mario muttered, "I'd like to put it on you."
Alien ignored him, pulled out a pad of printed forms, adjusted a dial in front of him.
"Name?"
"Roland Mario."
"Age?"
"Twenty-eight."
Alien stared at the dial, frowned, looked up questioningly.
"I wanted to see if it worked," said Mario. "I'm twenty-nine."
"It works," said Alien shortly. "Occupation?"
"Architect. At least I dabble at it, design dog houses and rabbit hutches for my friends. Although I did the Geraf Fleeter Corporation plant in Hanover a year or so ago, pretty big job."
"Hm. Where were you born?"
"Buenos Aires."
"Ever hold any government jobs? Civil Service? Police? Administrative? ACP?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Red tape. Disgusting bureaucrats."
"Nearest relative?"
"My brother, Arthur Mario. In Callaco. Coffee business."
"No wife?"
"No wife."
"Approximate worth? Wealth, possessions, real estate?"
"Oh-sixty, seventy thousand. Modestly comfortable. Enough so that I can loaf all I care to."
"Why did you come to the Chateau d'lf ?"
"Same reason that everybody else comes. Boredom. Repressed energy. Lack of something to fight against."
Alien laughed. "So you think you'll work off some of that energy fighting the Chateau d'lf?"
Mario smiled faintly. "It's a challenge."
"We've got a good thing here," Alien confided. "A wonder it hasn't been done before. How did you happen to come to the Chateau d'lf?"
"Five of us rolled dice. A man named Pete Zaer lost, He came, but he wouldn't speak to us afterwards."
Alien nodded sagely. "We've got to ask that our customers keep our secrets. If there were no mystery, we would have no customers."
"It had better be good," said Mario, "after all the buildup." And he thought he saw a flicker of humor in Alien's eyes.
"It's cheap at ten million."
"And quite dear at ten thousand?" suggested Mario.
Alien leaned back in his chair, and his beautiful face was cold as a marble mask. Mario suddenly thought of the girl in the front office. The same expression of untouchable distance and height. He said, "I suppose you have the same argument with everyone who comes in."
"Identical."
"Well, where do we go from here?"
"Are you healthy? Any organic defects?"
"None."
"Very well. I'll waive the physical."
Mario reached up, removed the encephalograph pick-up.
"Now I can lie again."
Alien drummed a moment on the tabletop, reached forward, tossed the mesh back in the desk, scribbled on a sheet of paper, tossed it to Mario. "A contract relieving us of responsibility."
Mario read. In consideration of services rendered, Roland Mario agreed that the Chateau d'lf and its principals would not be held responsible for any injuries, physical or psychological, which he might sustain while on the premises, or as a result of his presence on the premises. Furthermore, he waived all rights to prosecute. Any and all transactions, treatments, experiments, events which occurred on, by or to his person were by his permission and express direction.
Mario chewed doubtfully at his lip. "This sounds pretty tough. About all you can't do is kill me."
"Correct," said Alien.
"A very ominous contract"
"Perhaps just the talk is adventure enough," suggested Alien, faintly contemptuous.
Mario pursed his lips. "I like pleasant adventures. A nightmare is an adventure, and I don't like nightmares."
"Who does?"
In other words, you won't tell me a thing?"
"Not a thing."
"If I had any sense," said Mario, "I'd get up and walk out."
"Suit yourself."
"What do you do with all the money?"
Mervyn Alien relaxed in his chair, put his hands behind his blond head.
"We're building the Empyrean Tower. That's no secret"
It was news to Mario. The Empyrean Tower-the vastest, grandest, heaviest, tallest, most noble structure created or even conceived by man. A sky-piercing star-aspiring shaft three miles tall.
"Why, if I may ask, are you building the Empyrean Tower?"
Alien sighed. "For the same reason you're here, at the Chateau d'lf. Boredom. And don't tell me to take my own treatment."
"Have you?"
Alien studied him with narrow eyes. "Yes. I have. You ask lots of questions. Too many. Here's the contract Sign it or tear it up. I can't give you any more time."
"First," said Mario patiently, "you'll have to give me some idea of what I'm getting into."
"It's not crime," said Alien. "Let's say-we give you a new outlook on life."
"Artificial amnesia?" asked Mario, remembering Zaer.
"No. Your memory is intact. "Here it is," and Alien thrust out the contract "Sign it or tear it up."
Mario signed. "I realize I'm a fool. Want my eight thousand?"
"We're in the business for money," said Alien shortly. "If you can spare it"
Mario counted out the eight thousand-dollar bills. "There you are."
Alien took the money, tapped it on the table, inspected Mario ruminatively. "Our customers fall pretty uniformly into three groups. Reckless young men just out of adolescence, jaded old men in search of new lands of vice, and police snoopers. You don't seem to fit"
Mario said with a shrug. "Average the first two. I'm reckless, jaded and twenty-nine."