You can assume I want something from you. Why don't you amuse us both by guessing what it is?"
"Cash," she said. Her heart surged. I’ll dial it for you. Five thousand astrads. Then you can go."
"How interesting. Yes, that's a possibility. But don't worry. I could fix your pay-dial as easily as I did the
door. If I wanted your astrads I'd have gotten them already. So that eliminates theft and murder. What else
would it be? Perhaps I'm a pervert aroused only by the obscenely unwholesome. Sorry, your luck's out. Not that, either."
"Please-" she said again.
"I suggest you stop pleading with me to go. Don't you like me? Don't you think I'm rather decorative? Most people do"
She had edged all the way along the wall. Her right foot rested over the plate in the floor that worked the door from inside. But the door did not open.
"Yes, I've tampered with that, too. I'm clever as well as ornamental, you see."
Suddenly, he ran his hand down the button panel next to his seat. Instantly, all the furniture unfolded from the walls. The two other seats, the couch, the table, the cabinet with its magnetized shelves. The room was
jammed by a mob of white plastic fitments. And thus revealed in the midst of it, were the hidden aspects of Magdala.
She understood that he had already done this once, earlier, before she returned. He had seen everything.
The twenty paperback books, the minute deck of music cassettes , the limpid seashell from Sapphire Flats,
the jade bead from Earth. And on the bed, somehow more naked than anything
else, the sleek-furred simulate cat -a child's toy.
16
His eyes flickered over her secrets, registered the imprint of her soul, just as the cunning device had
registered her thumb-print in the lock. Then he rose, picked delicately between the unfolded furniture, and lifted her toy cat by its forepaws.
"So it's true," he remarked, "we all need something to love."
To get between the furniture was harder for Magdala, but she succeeded. Reaching him with a quickness
that surprised both of them, she flung up one hand to seize the cat. The other she drove against his ribs. She
had not been tortured by children without learning from them, and her spatulate hand appeared to hurt him a
lot. He swung aside in the narrow space with a ragged gasp of pain.
Nevertheless, she became aware in that moment that he had provoked her for his own reasons, and that she had followed his leads as he must have predicted to himself she would.
She stood with the toy cat in her arms, betrayed into self revelation.
"Congratulations," he murmured "you're human." He passed one long hand rhythmically across his side, where she had jabbed at him. "I was beginning to wonder. You don't, of course, look human. I expect you'd like to. Would you?"
She had crossed some peculiar line within herself. Her voice came from her throat, rough and strong: "Would I like what?"
He half-turned, and demagnetized one of the paperbacks. He opened a page, and held up before her the photo plate of the long-limbed Venus, her underwater flesh folded in yellow hair.
"How would you like," he said distinctly, "to be beautiful?"
Her heart stopped. Laughter began instead. She had never really laughed before in her life. Somewhere in the middle of this laughter, she lifted the white shell from its
shelf, raised it above her head, and cut with its pointed cusp at the young man's face.
Whether he expected this second blow was not clear. Frantically he deflected it, his arm darting to protect his face. The point of the shell slit his hand. The impact whirled the shell aside. It brushed the wall and broke in fragments.
Magdala's mouth, mobile with laughter, contorted and closed. She regarded the broken shell, her eyes
swelling as if to cry, yet without moisture. The habit of tearlessness prevailed. When he lifted his uninjured hand and struck her across the head, she rocked back, righted herself like some grotesque rubberized doll. She
"Cash," she said. Her heart surged. I’ll dial it for you. Five thousand astrads. Then you can go."
"How interesting. Yes, that's a possibility. But don't worry. I could fix your pay-dial as easily as I did the
door. If I wanted your astrads I'd have gotten them already. So that eliminates theft and murder. What else
would it be? Perhaps I'm a pervert aroused only by the obscenely unwholesome. Sorry, your luck's out. Not that, either."
"Please-" she said again.
"I suggest you stop pleading with me to go. Don't you like me? Don't you think I'm rather decorative? Most people do"
She had edged all the way along the wall. Her right foot rested over the plate in the floor that worked the door from inside. But the door did not open.
"Yes, I've tampered with that, too. I'm clever as well as ornamental, you see."
Suddenly, he ran his hand down the button panel next to his seat. Instantly, all the furniture unfolded from the walls. The two other seats, the couch, the table, the cabinet with its magnetized shelves. The room was
jammed by a mob of white plastic fitments. And thus revealed in the midst of it, were the hidden aspects of Magdala.
She understood that he had already done this once, earlier, before she returned. He had seen everything.
The twenty paperback books, the minute deck of music cassettes , the limpid seashell from Sapphire Flats,
the jade bead from Earth. And on the bed, somehow more naked than anything
else, the sleek-furred simulate cat -a child's toy.
16
His eyes flickered over her secrets, registered the imprint of her soul, just as the cunning device had
registered her thumb-print in the lock. Then he rose, picked delicately between the unfolded furniture, and lifted her toy cat by its forepaws.
"So it's true," he remarked, "we all need something to love."
To get between the furniture was harder for Magdala, but she succeeded. Reaching him with a quickness
that surprised both of them, she flung up one hand to seize the cat. The other she drove against his ribs. She
had not been tortured by children without learning from them, and her spatulate hand appeared to hurt him a
lot. He swung aside in the narrow space with a ragged gasp of pain.
Nevertheless, she became aware in that moment that he had provoked her for his own reasons, and that she had followed his leads as he must have predicted to himself she would.
She stood with the toy cat in her arms, betrayed into self revelation.
"Congratulations," he murmured "you're human." He passed one long hand rhythmically across his side, where she had jabbed at him. "I was beginning to wonder. You don't, of course, look human. I expect you'd like to. Would you?"
She had crossed some peculiar line within herself. Her voice came from her throat, rough and strong: "Would I like what?"
He half-turned, and demagnetized one of the paperbacks. He opened a page, and held up before her the photo plate of the long-limbed Venus, her underwater flesh folded in yellow hair.
"How would you like," he said distinctly, "to be beautiful?"
Her heart stopped. Laughter began instead. She had never really laughed before in her life. Somewhere in the middle of this laughter, she lifted the white shell from its
shelf, raised it above her head, and cut with its pointed cusp at the young man's face.
Whether he expected this second blow was not clear. Frantically he deflected it, his arm darting to protect his face. The point of the shell slit his hand. The impact whirled the shell aside. It brushed the wall and broke in fragments.
Magdala's mouth, mobile with laughter, contorted and closed. She regarded the broken shell, her eyes
swelling as if to cry, yet without moisture. The habit of tearlessness prevailed. When he lifted his uninjured hand and struck her across the head, she rocked back, righted herself like some grotesque rubberized doll. She
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