was pretty shaggy, with a lot of hair over the ears. The temples were the grayest. When it was done, it seemed to me that I looked a little less savage. In a melodious voice the robot asked if it should darken the hair.
"No," I said.
"Aprex?"
"What is that?"
"For wrinkles."
I hesitated. I felt stupid, but perhaps the doctor had been right.
"Go ahead," I agreed. It covered my face with a layer of sharp-smelling jelly that hardened into a mask. Afterward I lay under compresses, glad that my face was covered.
I went upstairs; the packages with the liquid clothing were already lying in my room. I stripped and went into the bathroom, where there was a mirror.
Yes. I could strike terror. I had not known that I looked like a circus strongman. Indented pectorals, torso, I was knotted all over. When I lifted my arm and flexed the chest, a scar as wide as the palm of my hand appeared on it. I tried to see the other, near the shoulder blade, for which I had been called a lucky bastard, because if the splinter had gone three centimeters more to the left it would have shattered my spine. I punched the plank of my stomach.
"Animal," I said to the mirror. I wanted a bath, a real one, not in the ozone wind, and looked forward to the swimming pool at the villa. I decided to dress in one of my new things, but somehow could not part with my trousers. So I put on only the white sweater, although I much preferred my old black one tattered at the elbows, and went to the restaurant.
Half the tables were occupied. I passed through three rooms to reach the terrace; from there I could see the great boulevards, the endless streams of gleeders; under the clouds, like a mountain peak, blue in the distant air, stood the Terminal.
I ordered lunch.
"What will you have?" asked the robot. It wanted to give me a menu.
"It doesn't matter," I replied. "A regular lunch."
It was only when I began to eat that I noticed that the tables around me were vacant. I had automatically sought seclusion. I had not even realized it. I did not know what I was eating. I was no longer certain that what I had decided on was good. A vacation, as if I wanted to reward myself, seeing as no one else had thought of it. The waiter approached noiselessly.
"Mr. Bregg?"
"Yes."
"You have a visitor—in your room."
"A visitor?"
I thought at once of Nais. I drank the rest of the dark, bubbling liquid and got up, feeling stares at my back as I left. It would have been nice to saw off about ten centimeters. In my room sat a young woman I had never seen before. A fluffy gray dress, a red whimsy around her arms.
"I am from Adapt," she said. "I spoke with you today."
"Ah, so that was you?"
I stiffened a little. What did they want of me now?
She sat down. And I sat down slowly.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I went to a doctor today, and he examined me. Everything is in working order. I have rented myself a villa. I want to do a little reading."
"Very wise. Clavestra is ideal for that. You will have mountains, quiet…"
She knew that it was Clavestra. Were they spying on me, or what? I sat motionless, waiting.
"I brought you … something from us."
She pointed to a small package on the table.
"It is our latest thing." She spoke with an animation that seemed artificial. "Before going to sleep you set this machine, and in the course of a dozen nights or so you learn, in the easiest possible way, without any effort, a great many useful things."
"Really? That's good," I said. She smiled at me. And I smiled, the well-behaved pupil.
"You are a psychologist?"
"Yes. You guessed."
She hesitated. I saw that she wanted to say something.
"Go ahead."
"You won't be angry with me?"
"Why should I be angry?"
"Because … you see … the way you are dressed is a bit…"
"I know. But I like these trousers. Maybe in time…"
"Ah, no, not the trousers. The sweater."
"The sweater?" I was surprised. "They made it for me today. It's the latest word in fashion, isn't it?"
"Yes.
"No," I said.
"Aprex?"
"What is that?"
"For wrinkles."
I hesitated. I felt stupid, but perhaps the doctor had been right.
"Go ahead," I agreed. It covered my face with a layer of sharp-smelling jelly that hardened into a mask. Afterward I lay under compresses, glad that my face was covered.
I went upstairs; the packages with the liquid clothing were already lying in my room. I stripped and went into the bathroom, where there was a mirror.
Yes. I could strike terror. I had not known that I looked like a circus strongman. Indented pectorals, torso, I was knotted all over. When I lifted my arm and flexed the chest, a scar as wide as the palm of my hand appeared on it. I tried to see the other, near the shoulder blade, for which I had been called a lucky bastard, because if the splinter had gone three centimeters more to the left it would have shattered my spine. I punched the plank of my stomach.
"Animal," I said to the mirror. I wanted a bath, a real one, not in the ozone wind, and looked forward to the swimming pool at the villa. I decided to dress in one of my new things, but somehow could not part with my trousers. So I put on only the white sweater, although I much preferred my old black one tattered at the elbows, and went to the restaurant.
Half the tables were occupied. I passed through three rooms to reach the terrace; from there I could see the great boulevards, the endless streams of gleeders; under the clouds, like a mountain peak, blue in the distant air, stood the Terminal.
I ordered lunch.
"What will you have?" asked the robot. It wanted to give me a menu.
"It doesn't matter," I replied. "A regular lunch."
It was only when I began to eat that I noticed that the tables around me were vacant. I had automatically sought seclusion. I had not even realized it. I did not know what I was eating. I was no longer certain that what I had decided on was good. A vacation, as if I wanted to reward myself, seeing as no one else had thought of it. The waiter approached noiselessly.
"Mr. Bregg?"
"Yes."
"You have a visitor—in your room."
"A visitor?"
I thought at once of Nais. I drank the rest of the dark, bubbling liquid and got up, feeling stares at my back as I left. It would have been nice to saw off about ten centimeters. In my room sat a young woman I had never seen before. A fluffy gray dress, a red whimsy around her arms.
"I am from Adapt," she said. "I spoke with you today."
"Ah, so that was you?"
I stiffened a little. What did they want of me now?
She sat down. And I sat down slowly.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I went to a doctor today, and he examined me. Everything is in working order. I have rented myself a villa. I want to do a little reading."
"Very wise. Clavestra is ideal for that. You will have mountains, quiet…"
She knew that it was Clavestra. Were they spying on me, or what? I sat motionless, waiting.
"I brought you … something from us."
She pointed to a small package on the table.
"It is our latest thing." She spoke with an animation that seemed artificial. "Before going to sleep you set this machine, and in the course of a dozen nights or so you learn, in the easiest possible way, without any effort, a great many useful things."
"Really? That's good," I said. She smiled at me. And I smiled, the well-behaved pupil.
"You are a psychologist?"
"Yes. You guessed."
She hesitated. I saw that she wanted to say something.
"Go ahead."
"You won't be angry with me?"
"Why should I be angry?"
"Because … you see … the way you are dressed is a bit…"
"I know. But I like these trousers. Maybe in time…"
"Ah, no, not the trousers. The sweater."
"The sweater?" I was surprised. "They made it for me today. It's the latest word in fashion, isn't it?"
"Yes.
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