GODS OF RIVERWORLD by Philip Jose Farmer

He asked them if they were hungry. Netley and the women said that they were; Gull shook his head. Burton got their orders and transmitted them to the converter. After they were seated and eating from little tables before them, Burton launched into the very long exposition of the Riverworld, of his and others’ tribulations in getting to the tower, and what had happened since. By the time he was through, he had drunk two tall goblets of Scotch, and they were deep into their own cups.

“So you see,” he said, “just what the situation is. I know you have a thousand questions, and it will take you some time to learn how to use the Computer. Meanwhile, I suggest that you settle down for the night—I can get sleeping pills for you if you wish—and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll also introduce you to my eight companions then. Perhaps not personally but via the wall-screens.”

Mary Kelly said, slurring, “How do we know that those two bastards won’t try to murder us again while we sleep?”

“I would not even dream of doing such a deed!” Gull said. “I have changed; I am not what I was! Believe me, ladies, I deeply regret my crimes, and I have tried—am trying—to live a Christian life, a truly Christian life. I would not only not harm you, I would defend you against anyone who tried to do so.”

“Fine words,” Liz Stride said scornfully.

“I mean them, madam, I truly do!”

“I think he’s sincere,” Burton said. “In any event, I suggest that you three women sleep in an apartment room separate from that of the men. I will give you a codeword that will prevent anyone from coming through your door except myself and you three.”

After he had shown them how to get food and drink from their converters and how to call him, he left them. Instead of going on to his world, he returned to his apartment. Since he would have to show them the ropes tomorrow morning, he should be close to them.

On the way back, he considered the question of who had resurrected the five. Whoever it was had a vicious sense of irony. But whom could it be? Only Frigate and Nur knew about his investigations of the Ripper, and neither would have brought the five here. Who then? Loga and the Mongolian Agent were dead. Was there … he did not even like to approach the thought … another unknown, another Snark?

Burton had just gotten into bed when a screen appeared on the wall. Star Spoon’s distraught face was in it.

Speaking Esperanto rapidly, tears flowing, she asked Burton if she could come to his apartment.

“Why?”

“I am tired of sharing Po with five other women, though he gives very little time to any of us. He’s too busy drinking with his cronies or studying. Besides … I do not desire his embraces.”

Burton did not have to ask her whose embraces she did desire.

“Does Po know you’re calling me?”

“Yes. I told him an hour ago. He raved and ranted and then …”

“He didn’t beat you?”

“No, he does not beat women, I’ll say that for him. Not physically, anyway.”

“And then?”

“Then? Oh! Yes, he smiled and blessed me and said he hoped I’d be happy with you. He spoiled it, though, by saying that he doubted that I would.”

Burton got out of bed and put on a towel-kilt. “I’d like to speak with him.”

Her black eyes widened. “Why? Do you think I’m lying?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that I don’t want him to think I’m afraid to face him. I also want to make sure that he doesn’t think I was sneaking around behind his back.”

“Oh, he doesn’t think that. I told him that you were not in the least aware I desired you.”

“That’s a lie,” Burton said, but he did not reproach her. There were lies and there were lies, and this was in the “white” category. Besides, who was he to rebuke anyone for falsehood?

“I’ll speak to him if he’s awake,” Burton said.

“No, he’s awake, but he won’t want to be disturbed. He’s with a woman. A woman he just resurrected. He said she’ll replace me. Poor devil.”

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