By the time the Depart-ment of Speech would have graduated her from North-western, she would have been fully co-ordinated. But in 1968 she'd had her head broken in front of the Conrad Hilton, and then for a while she'd vegetated, and then after a while she'd died.
When he was even younger, and had to work on the East Coast because he wanted to take extension courses at MIT, he had called his wife often at Northwestern, in Evanston, Illinois. He would say: "I can get a ride to Youngstown over Friday night with this fellow who lives there, and then if I can get a hitch up US 30, I could be in Chicago by Saturday late or Sunday morning. I don't have any classes back here until Tuesday, and I can call in sick to work." She would say:
"Oh, that sounds like a lot of trouble for just a few hours. And I think I have a singing job at a coffee house Monday anyhow." He would say : "But I don't mind," and she would say: "I don't want you to do it. It's more important for you to be where you are." And he had said more, patiently, but so had she. That had been back when Domino had just been a device for making telephone calls. He had barely been a programme at all. And now look at him.
He rinsed the glittering straight razor under the tap, and rinsed and dried his face. He dried the razor meticulously and put it back into its scarred Afghanistani leather-and-brass case. "Figs," he said. "Figs and queened pawns, savants and astronauts, world enough, but how much time?
Where does it go? What does it do?" He scrubbed his armpits with the washcloth.
"Boompa-boompa, boompa-boompa, boompa-boom, pa-pa-pa-peen, herring boxes without topses .. ."
"I don't like it. I don't like it," he said to Domino as he put the fresh room-service carnation in his buttonhole. "These people must mean something by this manoeuvre with the package. What's the idea? Or are you claiming Cikou-mas is a coincidence?"
"No. There's a definite connection. They've even recently opened a branch in Cité d'Afrique. Of course, that would be a logical move for an importer, but, still..."
"Well, all right, then. But why do they mail the package via that route? Maybe they want something else."
"I don't understand your implication. They simply don't want postal employees noting Limberg's return address on a package to US Always. Something like that would be worth a few dollars to a media tipster. The Cikoumas front is an easy way around that."
"Ah, maybe. Maybe that's all. Maybe not." Michaelmas began striding back and forth. "We've spotted it. Maybe we're meant to spot it. Maybe they're laying a trail that only a singular kind of animal could follow. But must follow. Must follow, so can be detected, can be identified, phut, splat
!" He punched his fist into his palm. "What about that, eh? They want me because they've deduced I'm there to be found, and once they know me and have me, they have everything. How's that for a hypothesis?"
"Well, one can arrive at the scenario, obviously."
"They must know! Look at the recent history of the world. Where's war, where's what was going to be an accruing class of commodities billionaires in a diminishing system, what's taking the pressure off the heel of poverty, what accounts for the emergence of a rational worldwide distribution of resources? What accounts for the steady exposure of conniving politicians, for increasingly rational social planning, and reasonably effective execution of the plans? I must exist!"
"It seems to me that you do," Domino said agreeably.
Michaelmas blinked. "Yes, you," he said. "They can't know about you. When they picture me, they probably see me in a tall silk hat running back and forth to some massive console. The opera phantom notion. However, it's always possible—"
"Excuse me, Mr Michaelmas, but UNAC and Dr. Limberg have just announced a press conference at the sanatorium in half an hour. That'll be ten thirty. I've called Madame Gervaise to assemble your crew, and there's a car waiting."
"All
When he was even younger, and had to work on the East Coast because he wanted to take extension courses at MIT, he had called his wife often at Northwestern, in Evanston, Illinois. He would say: "I can get a ride to Youngstown over Friday night with this fellow who lives there, and then if I can get a hitch up US 30, I could be in Chicago by Saturday late or Sunday morning. I don't have any classes back here until Tuesday, and I can call in sick to work." She would say:
"Oh, that sounds like a lot of trouble for just a few hours. And I think I have a singing job at a coffee house Monday anyhow." He would say : "But I don't mind," and she would say: "I don't want you to do it. It's more important for you to be where you are." And he had said more, patiently, but so had she. That had been back when Domino had just been a device for making telephone calls. He had barely been a programme at all. And now look at him.
He rinsed the glittering straight razor under the tap, and rinsed and dried his face. He dried the razor meticulously and put it back into its scarred Afghanistani leather-and-brass case. "Figs," he said. "Figs and queened pawns, savants and astronauts, world enough, but how much time?
Where does it go? What does it do?" He scrubbed his armpits with the washcloth.
"Boompa-boompa, boompa-boompa, boompa-boom, pa-pa-pa-peen, herring boxes without topses .. ."
"I don't like it. I don't like it," he said to Domino as he put the fresh room-service carnation in his buttonhole. "These people must mean something by this manoeuvre with the package. What's the idea? Or are you claiming Cikou-mas is a coincidence?"
"No. There's a definite connection. They've even recently opened a branch in Cité d'Afrique. Of course, that would be a logical move for an importer, but, still..."
"Well, all right, then. But why do they mail the package via that route? Maybe they want something else."
"I don't understand your implication. They simply don't want postal employees noting Limberg's return address on a package to US Always. Something like that would be worth a few dollars to a media tipster. The Cikoumas front is an easy way around that."
"Ah, maybe. Maybe that's all. Maybe not." Michaelmas began striding back and forth. "We've spotted it. Maybe we're meant to spot it. Maybe they're laying a trail that only a singular kind of animal could follow. But must follow. Must follow, so can be detected, can be identified, phut, splat
!" He punched his fist into his palm. "What about that, eh? They want me because they've deduced I'm there to be found, and once they know me and have me, they have everything. How's that for a hypothesis?"
"Well, one can arrive at the scenario, obviously."
"They must know! Look at the recent history of the world. Where's war, where's what was going to be an accruing class of commodities billionaires in a diminishing system, what's taking the pressure off the heel of poverty, what accounts for the emergence of a rational worldwide distribution of resources? What accounts for the steady exposure of conniving politicians, for increasingly rational social planning, and reasonably effective execution of the plans? I must exist!"
"It seems to me that you do," Domino said agreeably.
Michaelmas blinked. "Yes, you," he said. "They can't know about you. When they picture me, they probably see me in a tall silk hat running back and forth to some massive console. The opera phantom notion. However, it's always possible—"
"Excuse me, Mr Michaelmas, but UNAC and Dr. Limberg have just announced a press conference at the sanatorium in half an hour. That'll be ten thirty. I've called Madame Gervaise to assemble your crew, and there's a car waiting."
"All
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