“I still think you’re a bastard, Jim. But there’s no doubt you’re a clever one. ‘Psychologically perilous’ was his exact phrase. Mogshack can be a bit presometimes, can’t he? Though I suppose anywho pursues one goal with unswerving determs vulnerable to that charge.”
Once more refuting her expectations, instead of anher smile with one of his own, Reedeth frowned, “Yes, but I do sometimes wonder where singlemindedshades over into fanaticism. Never mind, though. At least he’s shown flexibility in this matter. Like I said, I think it’s a very promising idea. Anything which will tend to reinforce the broken bridges between one perand another has my support.”
Piqued at his failure to acknowledge her gesture of surrender, she said sharply, “That’s a very Conroyan remark, Jim. And it isn’t the purpose of the project, anyway.”
“I’m being driven to the conclusion that the only way some people can be made to understand-”
But the expostulation, which had begun heatedly, lost its impetus and died away. Reedeth grinned. “Ah, hell. I’d rather compliment you on a bright idea than have a fight with you. Suppose we continue the contonight, hm? I think it’s about time for your winter to come to an end.”
“Well.”
“Good, that’s settled. And do you mind if I attend this afternoon’s performance? I assume Mogshack will be there.”
“No, he will not. He’ll be witnessing it, of course, but from his office. And I think it would be better if you did the same.”
“But there’s a question I’d like to ask this pythoness myself, since you recommend her so strongly. And I understand pythonesses can’t react to people unless they’re actually in the room.”
“A question? What about?” And her eyes said more loudly than words: Not about us-you wouldn’t dare!
“Why, Ariadne!” Reedeth said in a mocking voice. “You’re blushing! I’ve never seen you do that before. And it looks great on you!”
While she was still struggling to formulate her reply, there was a sweet shrill buzz from the personal comstrapped to her left wrist. She raised it relooking daggers, and muttered, “Yes?”
“A visitor for a patient under your care, Dr. Spoelstra. Just landed on the roof in a private skimmer. Not at all cooperative. Demanding a Class A disruption of the programmed schedule.”
“Hell. That is absolutely all I need right now!”
Not without malice, Reedeth uttered a deliberately loud chuckle.
“Oh.! Very well, I’ll come and see about that in a moment!” She shut off the mike and raised blazing eyes to Reedeth’s face.
“No, I won’t have you attending the session this afterYou want to consult a pythoness, you go hire one of your own. And you’d better get a good one. Empathy’s wasted if it doesn’t work both ways, and I don’t know anyone who could get through that armor-plated hide of yours!”
“Try,” Reedeth said softly. “That’s all I’m asking, you know. If you’re scared to walk through a wide open door because you think something’s going to fall on your head as soon as you cross the threshold, you’re in troudarl!”
He spun on his heel, stepped over the boundary of the intersection. In a moment the pediflow had carried him out of earshot.
Not-Ariadne swore it to herself, barely preventing her foot from stamping-not that she had the least inof calling after him. Not, in fact, that she ever wanted to speak to him again.
The jocular paranoia of the last-century song had at first seemed apt to Celia Prior Flamen following her commitment. Possibly it still was. But nowadays she merely hummed its tune to herself. Singing it aloud was pointless. No matter how much she raised her clear high voice, the sound was soaked up by the layers and layers of insulation on the walls of her luxurious retreat.
That was what they called the cells in the Ginsberg: retreats.
She was thirty-five, a year younger than her husband and four years younger than her brother, though Lionel always looked, acted, and apparently felt at least a decade her senior. She was also rather beautiful, having a casque of sleek brown hair which she had never dyed or patterned despite the dictates of fashion, framing a heart-shaped face with an over-large but delightfully mobile mouth, and a taut slim body which at one mocould suggest sensual languor, at the next nervous tension barely held in check by sheer force of will.