John Brunner – Jagged Orbit

“Has Phil got picture-windows?” he concluded fero”The hell he has! Those poor kids of his could be cut to mincemeat by shards of flying glass!”

There was a moment of silence. Then Nora said in the self-righteous tone of someone winning an argument through a careless admission by the person on the other side, “And you spent a hundred and fifty thousand on that Lar of yours?”

For an instant Prior was on the verge of exploding. But instead he gave a sigh. “Okay, I was conned. Every damned thing that could possibly go wrong today has gone wrong. If you bothered to watch Matthew’s show-”

“I started out to, but the picture went fuzzy and I had to switch to something else,” Nora said.

“That’s exactly it. That’s what I’ve been trying to get him to show some reaction about! But he doesn’t seem to care any more! Know what the idiot did? He praccame out with the accusation that Holocosmic is trying to get rid of him, and when I tried to pick the pieces up by suggesting we call in an unquestionable expert to study the problem he blew all his fuses and said I was selling out! Damn it, of course we’re being sabotaged, but that’s not something you say in range of a bug without having the evidence lined up! If this is what having a Lar leads to, I’m going to tell them right now what I think of their service!”

He drained his glass and marched over to the comNora disappeared, plainly not caring to continue the conversation after having won her point. Prior scowled at the blanked screen where her face had been a moment ago.

If only he could get her into an asylum-or any place out of earshot.!

Reaching for the board to punch the code for Lares Penates Inc., he checked. There was a flag up over the message slot. He jabbed his hand in to retrieve the fax paper, and read it with dismay.

Eugene Voigt of the PCC needing to get in touch as soon as possible. That old fool! But right now his situation was too precarious to risk offending anyone who might later be of use. Sighing, he put through that call first.

Waiting for an answer, he looked around at the handexpensive home he had worked for years to achieve: splendidly furnished, with real hand-painted pictures on the walls, hand-woven rugs on the floor protected by an invisible film of plastic against the scuffing of children’s feet, antique ornaments thirty, forty, even fifty years old.

“Doesn’t Matthew realize what I stand to lose if he throws his contract away?” he said to the unheeding air.

“Well, that was a fiasco and no mistake!” Dan mutto Lyla the moment he had the chance to abandon his professional good manners and could speak to her without anyone else overhearing.

Bewildered, she stared at him. The patients were beshepherded from the room under Ariadne’s superMatthew Flamen, having covered several of them in closeup from near the door to wind up his reel of tape, had doffed his recording equipment and was now engaged in conversation with one of the last of the audito leave, a singularly lovely girl with her mouth in a sulky pout. The conversation seemed to be completeone-sided.

“But-but why?” Lyla whispered.

“The biggest break you’re ever likely to get in your life, Flamen turning up to cover the performance, and how long do you run? Eleven minutes, that’s how long! Think they’re going to be pleased at getting such a short show? You let me down, darl, and that’s all there is to it.”

She went on staring at him in disbelief for another few seconds. Suddenly, as though the nerve-signals had this moment reached her brain, she put up her fingers to touch her cheeks.

“Dan, did you slap me out of it?”

“Had to!”

“But you know that’s terribly dangerous! You might have-”

“Did I?”

“I.” She swallowed enormously and shook her head. “I guess not. I feel pretty much as usual after a session. But why?” The last word peaked into a cry.

“You’ll find out when you hear the tape.” His eyes flicked past her, “Shut up and look pleasant-Flamen’s coming this way.”

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