stared at each other, face to face and much less than arm's length apart. Suddenly, quite against her will, Ariadne felt her mouth straining upwards at the corners. She resisted for a second, then gave in. Il faut reculer pour mieux sauter, she told herself, quoting one of Mogshack's own favorite aphorisms. One must go back to make a longer jump. And next time she jumped, she promised herself, it would be out of Jim Reedeth's reach.
"I still think you're a bastard, Jim. But there's no doubt you're a clever one. 'Psychologically perilous' was his exact phrase. . . . Mogshack can be a bit predictable sometimes, can't he? Though I suppose anybody who pursues one goal with unswerving determination is vulnerable to that charge."
Once more refuting her expectations, instead of answering her smile with one of his own, Reedeth frowned, "Yes, but I do sometimes wonder where singlemindedness shades over into fanaticism. ... Never mind, though. At least he's shown flexibility in this matter. Like I said, I think it's a very promising idea. Anything which will tend to reinforce the broken bridges between one personality and another has my support."
Piqued at his failure to acknowledge her gesture of surrender, she said sharply, "That's a very Conroyan remark, Jim. And it isn't the purpose of the project, anyway."
"I'm being driven to the conclusion that the only way some people can be made to understand—"
But the expostulation, which had begun heatedly, lost its impetus and died away. Reedeth grinned. "Ah, hell. I'd rather compliment you on a bright idea than have a fight with you. Suppose we continue the conversation tonight, hm? I think it's about time for your winter to come to an end."
"Well..."
"Good, that's settled. And do you mind if I attend this afternoon's performance? I assume Mogshack will be there."
"No, he will not. He'll be witnessing it, of course, but from his office. And I think it would be better if you did the same."
"But there's a question I'd like to ask this pythoness myself, since you recommend her so strongly. And I understand pythonesses can't react to people unless they're actually in the room."
"A question? What about?" And her eyes said more loudly than words: Not about us—you wouldn't dare!
"Why, Ariadne!" Reedeth said in a mocking voice. "You're blushing! I've never seen you do that before. And it looks great on you!"
While she was still struggling to formulate her reply, there was a sweet shrill buzz from the personal communicator strapped to her left wrist. She raised it reflexively, looking daggers, and muttered, "Yes?"
"A visitor for a patient under your care, Dr. Spoelstra. Just landed on the roof in a private skimmer. Not at all cooperative. Demanding a Class A disruption of the programmed schedule."
"Hell. That is absolutely all I need right now!"
Not without malice, Reedeth uttered a deliberately loud chuckle.
"Oh ... ! Very well, I'll come and see about that in a moment!" She shut off the mike and raised blazing eyes to Reedeth's face.
"No, I won't have you attending the session this afternoon! You want to consult a pythoness, you go hire one of your own. And you'd better get a good one. Empathy's wasted if it doesn't work both ways, and I don't know anyone who could get through that armor-plated hide of yours!"
"Try," Reedeth said softly. "That's all I'm asking, you know. If you're scared to walk through a wide open door because you think something's going to fall on your head as soon as you cross the threshold, you're in trouble, darl!"
He spun on his heel, stepped over the boundary of the intersection. In a moment the pediflow had carried him out of earshot.
Not—Ariadne swore it to herself, barely preventing her foot from stamping—not that she had the least intention of calling after him. Not, in fact, that she ever wanted to speak to him again.
TWENTY-ONECLOSE THE DOORS, THEY'RE COMING IN THE WINDOWS!
The jocular paranoia of the last-century song had at first
"I still think you're a bastard, Jim. But there's no doubt you're a clever one. 'Psychologically perilous' was his exact phrase. . . . Mogshack can be a bit predictable sometimes, can't he? Though I suppose anybody who pursues one goal with unswerving determination is vulnerable to that charge."
Once more refuting her expectations, instead of answering her smile with one of his own, Reedeth frowned, "Yes, but I do sometimes wonder where singlemindedness shades over into fanaticism. ... Never mind, though. At least he's shown flexibility in this matter. Like I said, I think it's a very promising idea. Anything which will tend to reinforce the broken bridges between one personality and another has my support."
Piqued at his failure to acknowledge her gesture of surrender, she said sharply, "That's a very Conroyan remark, Jim. And it isn't the purpose of the project, anyway."
"I'm being driven to the conclusion that the only way some people can be made to understand—"
But the expostulation, which had begun heatedly, lost its impetus and died away. Reedeth grinned. "Ah, hell. I'd rather compliment you on a bright idea than have a fight with you. Suppose we continue the conversation tonight, hm? I think it's about time for your winter to come to an end."
"Well..."
"Good, that's settled. And do you mind if I attend this afternoon's performance? I assume Mogshack will be there."
"No, he will not. He'll be witnessing it, of course, but from his office. And I think it would be better if you did the same."
"But there's a question I'd like to ask this pythoness myself, since you recommend her so strongly. And I understand pythonesses can't react to people unless they're actually in the room."
"A question? What about?" And her eyes said more loudly than words: Not about us—you wouldn't dare!
"Why, Ariadne!" Reedeth said in a mocking voice. "You're blushing! I've never seen you do that before. And it looks great on you!"
While she was still struggling to formulate her reply, there was a sweet shrill buzz from the personal communicator strapped to her left wrist. She raised it reflexively, looking daggers, and muttered, "Yes?"
"A visitor for a patient under your care, Dr. Spoelstra. Just landed on the roof in a private skimmer. Not at all cooperative. Demanding a Class A disruption of the programmed schedule."
"Hell. That is absolutely all I need right now!"
Not without malice, Reedeth uttered a deliberately loud chuckle.
"Oh ... ! Very well, I'll come and see about that in a moment!" She shut off the mike and raised blazing eyes to Reedeth's face.
"No, I won't have you attending the session this afternoon! You want to consult a pythoness, you go hire one of your own. And you'd better get a good one. Empathy's wasted if it doesn't work both ways, and I don't know anyone who could get through that armor-plated hide of yours!"
"Try," Reedeth said softly. "That's all I'm asking, you know. If you're scared to walk through a wide open door because you think something's going to fall on your head as soon as you cross the threshold, you're in trouble, darl!"
He spun on his heel, stepped over the boundary of the intersection. In a moment the pediflow had carried him out of earshot.
Not—Ariadne swore it to herself, barely preventing her foot from stamping—not that she had the least intention of calling after him. Not, in fact, that she ever wanted to speak to him again.
TWENTY-ONECLOSE THE DOORS, THEY'RE COMING IN THE WINDOWS!
The jocular paranoia of the last-century song had at first
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