Phoenix Café Read Free Page B

here I am.”
    She rubbed at her sleeves. “But I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.”
    “I almost wish it was.” Maitri burst out. “Hurt? I don’t care if you’re sliced to bits. I don’t know why I said I hoped the police had been nice. I wish they would beat you.”
    He drew a breath. “It’s not that I don’t agree, in principle, with what the Mission teaches. Of course permanent death is pure superstition. Their physiology has not been much researched, but they must be born again the same as we are: the same chemical identities, the same set of individuals that goes to make up a society. They only have to learn to remember their past lives, to know themselves as eternal aspects of the Cosmic Self…. I agree with you completely on that! And the conversion ceremonies. It’s something we’ve done ourselves in the past, and no doubt we’ll do it again: licensed group suicide in times of hardship, for the good of others. The humans themselves don’t consider it a crime. It’s all very, spiritual and uplifting, I’m sure…. But darling, I think it has to come from them. From the humans. We can’t impose belief. It won’t stick. My dear, I know you want to help. But a missionary! So banal! Is it really you?”
    He broke off to make a tart little bow to the populated air, which was carrying away the chemical trace of his opinions—to be picked up, maybe, in the wide web of the Commonalty, by a sensitive clergyperson. “No offence meant, none taken I hope. I’ve always made my views on the Mission plain.”
    “You think the whole idea is stupid and nasty,” she whimpered accusingly.
    Maitri stood in a pool of lucid gold, the dark nasal space in the center of his face contracted in helpless anxiety. He lifted his clawed hands and let them fall. “I respect your belief. But we’re so worried. You don’t seem happy, or well.”
    “You should have told me you hated the Mission when I moved out.”
    “I was afraid,” explained her guardian simply. “I was afraid of losing you.”
    She turned away, wrapping her arms more tightly around her body. “My cell was lovely,” she announced. “You’d never guess. The walls are covered in real ceramic tile, must be over three hundred years old. And roses. You’d love the roses. You should get yourself arrested; then you could see for yourself. He was so nice, the boy whose apartment we used. I wish I could remember his name. I can never remember their names.”
    Maitri was watching her with undisguised concern.
    “How long since you ate?”
    “Am I babbling? Fifth day. I’m not going on with it. There’s no point. I’m beaten.”
    “I’m glad of that, at least. There are so many interesting drugs on this wonderful planet, if you must ruin your health. Starvation is just silly. Have you begun to hallucinate?”
    Catherine frowned sharply. “No! Not at all.”
    She began to weep, the human tears spilling from her eyes. “Maitri, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down. You expected more from me. I know the Mission is stupid. But the humans are dying. We’re leaving, their world is trashed and they have nowhere to go. They can’t survive and I know it’s my fault. Can you understand how that feels?”
    “Go and lie down,” he advised gently. “Have something to eat; sleep. Let us look after you. You don’t mean these wild things, you’ll feel better soon. But I should warn you, I’m having a little reception this afternoon. One of my usual parties for the locals, it won’t disturb you.”
    She smiled feebly at his use of the dissidents’ term: the locals, meaning our neighbors, people like us. Not the humans, meaning the alien species for whom we can’t be held responsible. By such signs a world of difference is made known.
    “Do you want me on show?” The humans were very curious about Catherine. She was quite “a draw,” as Maitri vulgarly put it.
    “Not unless you’re feeling much better.” He handed her the vase, with a