Nature's Shift by Brian Stableford Page B

virtual concussion. “Venezuela?” I repeated feebly. “I can’t….” That was entirely the wrong way to go about it, of course.
    â€œYes you can,” said Rosalind, firmly. “Whatever obstacles are in your path can be cleared. If you need some sort of financial recompense, you only have to say the word—but I know that it’s not something you’d do for money. It’s something you’ll do because you’re Rowland’s friend, and because he needs you. You do still think of yourself as his friend, don’t you?”
    What could I say to that? What could I have said, even if it hadn’t been true?
    â€œYes,” I said, “but….”
    â€œBut you don’t feel that you can take my word for it that he needs you,” she said, effortlessly usurping the nascent statement and turning it to her own advantage. She removed her gentle hand from my wrist. “You’d rather hear it from him, I suppose, but you won’t…and that’s the most important reason why he needs you. I’m not asking you to be my ambassador, to try to patch things up between us, and I’m certainly not asking you to be my spy, to report back to me on exactly what he’s doing out there in that glorified termite-mound of his. I’m just asking you to be his friend, because I have reason to believe that he needs a friend just now. He needs someone to be with him, to talk to him, to provide some balance in his life, at least for a while. I don’t know how long that will take—I leave you to judge for yourself. Just be reassured that, no matter how long it takes, you won’t be the loser by it. If you’re still as determined now as you were ten years ago not to enter my employ, that’s fine—but know that the job you have is absolutely safe, and that if you want to move on, nothing will stand in the way of your ending up exactly where you want and need to be—put please, please, do as I ask and go to Venezuela.”
    It wasn’t the thought of going to South America that made me hesitate. I’d come all the way to Exeter and beyond in the hope of seeing Rowland, and a plane journey to Trinidad wasn’t that much longer than a twice-interrupted train-journey across most of the length to England, although the subsequent boat-trip to the mouth of the Orinoco would doubtless add an extra day. I did want to see Rowland, and I was prepared to go to South America to do it, even if I had to pay my own plane fare—and I certainly wasn’t going to let Rosalind pay for it—but that wasn’t the point. The point was, did Rowland want to see me? Even if he had no idea that Rosalind had asked me to do it, as a favor to her, would he want to see me? Would he answer the door, if I were rude enough and foolish enough to turn up unannounced? And if I managed to get a message through to him asking for permission, wouldn’t he simply say no, even if he bothered to reply?
    I should never have come , I thought. And having come, I should simply have gone. That security guard wouldn’t have—couldn’t have—stopped me .
    But I had come, and I hadn’t gone when I’d had half a chance. I had stayed, in answer to Rosalind’s plea…and now, she was making another, much more demanding plea. I should have expected it—but I hadn’t. I couldn’t refuse, of course—that was unthinkable—but I could hesitate, at least for a few minutes. I could even prevaricate, in a tokenistic fashion.
    â€œWhy do you think he needs me?” I said, feebly—and even corrected that, hurriedly, to: “Why do you think he needs anybody?”
    â€œDon’t you think he needs someone, right now?” she countered. “After all, you’re his friend. You know him as well as I do.” A low blow, that last one. There was no polite reply to that.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said,