“I hope that’s true,” she said. “I’d like to like you. I always want to like people.”
“And I like to be liked. Trouble is, in my line of busino matter how carefully I choose my targets the bystanders are apt to catch the shrapnel, and it makes everyone kind of-all-diffident. .” Flamen leaned forward and peered at the handsome development of well-spaced modern houses they were flying over. “We’re almost there. Just another minute till we land.”
Boomed the radio evangelist* at the top of his lungs over the British “pirate” station in 1966:
“You know the streets in your neighborhood you wouldn’t dare to walk down alone after dark! You know the streets you wouldn’t want your kids to walk along on their way home from school!”
“What in the world is he going on about?” said his audience, and switched off.
*He was an American.
“I like you much better in the summer phase of your orbit,” Reedeth said, stroking Ariadne’s hair. In reply she sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his upper arm, and he jerked away with a cry.
“You’re always so smug when you’ve worked your tensions off on me!” she snapped. “There’s no need to think I’m completely defenseless, though-even now!”
Reedeth sighed, rubbing the horseshoe shapes left by her bite. She sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the consultation couch; it wasn’t as luxurious as a bed, but it had done well enough.
“Are you sure that thing is shut off?” she asked for the fifth or sixth time, nodding at the desketary.
“Yes, yes and yes,” Reedeth muttered. “I told you: when Harry fixed it he set it up differently from the regular way. We’ve got to get that man out of this stifling environment! He’s got talents which. Ah, never mind. I wanted to go on talking about you. Can’t you think of anything except defending yourself?”
“It’s not rational to enjoy being vulnerable!”
“No more is it rational to operate on the paranoid assumption that everyone else is out to do you damage. And what else are you doing when you get through to a patient’s basic traumas but taking advantage of his vulnerability?”
“Logic-chopping,” Ariadne said ill-temperedly. “You have to make an incision before you repair a hernia, don’t you, or a perforated ulcer? But you don’t go around with your skin hanging open in great gaping wounds on the off-chance that someone may need to get at your internal organs!”
“No more do you go around wearing clanking armor-plate. Though I grant you some people treat their clothes like armor and give you the impression they’re always on the watch for bows and blowpipes. But what’s the archetype of the perfectly defended man? It’s the catatonic.”
“That sounds like one of Conroy’s arguments.”
“Applause!” Reedeth said mockingly. “It is indeed. I’ve always thought it was a striking point and I still do. But tell me this-no, hold it.” He raised a hand to forestall her interruption. “Seriously, Ariadne: what made you all of a sudden cave in like you did? Do you know? You’re always talking about proper detachment from one’s own emotions, and I concede it is good not to be at their mercy. You’ve blown your safety-valve, and it was marvelous, and I wish I could tell you just how good it was. but now, what do you think made it happen? I’m playing fair. I think I know how I worked it, and I’m giving you the chance to figure out the same thing so that if you want to you can guard against a repetition.”
She plucked thoughtfully at her lower lip; realizing what she was doing, she snatched her hand away an
“I. Well, I suppose it was your confidence. I was in a rather confused state, and faced with your absolute certainty the idea of arguing with you on top of everyelse I was having to cope with-it was simply too much.”
“Yes, that was my conclusion. Now here’s something else I want to know.” Reedeth sat forward, his arms around his knees. “What made you feel the session with the pythoness had gone wrong? I thought it was a remarkable success for a trial run, and ought to be reas soon as possible.”