engaged in massive speculation as to who really wrote Shakespeare's plays, whether or not Napoleon actually died on St. Helena, who were the first Europeans to set foot on North America, and if the books of Charles Fort indicated that Earth had been visited by an intelligent race unknown to them -and so on. High caste Vegan society just eats up our medieval theological debates, too. Funny.
"About your book, Srin Shtigo ..." I interrupted.
My use of the honorific stopped him.
"Yes?" he answered.
"My impression," said I, "is that you do not wish THIS IMMORTAL 59
to discuss it at any length at this time. I respect this feeling, of course, but it places me in a slightly awkward position as head of this tour." We both knew I should have asked him in private, especially after his reply to Phil at the reception, but I was feeling cantankerous and wanted to let him know it, as well as to rechannel the talk. So, "I'm curious,"
I said, "whether it will be primarily a travelogue of the places we visit, or if you would like assistance in directing your attention to special local conditions of any sort-say, political, or current cultural items."
"I am primarily interested in writing a descriptive travelbook," he said, "but I will appreciate your comments as we go along. I thought that was your job, anyway. As it is, I do have a general awareness of Earth traditions and current affairs, and I'm not very much concerned with them."
DOS Santos, who was pacing and smoking as our meai^was being prepared, stopped in mid-stride and said, "Srin Shtigo, what are your feelings toward the Returnist movement? Are you sympa-thetic with our aims? Or do you consider it a dead issue?"
"Yes," he replied, ^o the latter. I believe that when one is dead one's only obligation then is to satisfy the consumer. I respect your aims, but I do not see how you can possibly hope to realize them.
Why should your people give up the security they now possess to return to this place? Most of the members of the present generation have never even seen the Earth, except on tapes-and you must admit that they are hardly the most encouraging documents,"
"I disagree with you," said DOS Santos, "and I 60 ROGER ZELAZNY
find your attitude dreadfully patrician."
"That is as it should be," replied Myshtigo.
George and the food arrived at about the same time. The waiters began serving the food.
"I should prefer to eat at a small table by myself," DOS Santos instructed a waiter.
"You are here because you asked to be here," I mentioned.
He stopped in mid-flight and cast a furtive look at Red Wig, who happened to be sitting at my right hand-I thought I detected an almost imperceptible movement of her head, first to the left, then to the right.
DOS Santos composed his features around a small smile and bowed slightly.
"Forgive my Latin temperament," he observed.
"I should hardly expect to convert anyone to Returnism in five minutes-and it has always been difficult for me to conceal my feelings."
"That is somewhat obvious."
"I'm hungry, "I said.
He seated himself across from us, next to George.
"Behold the Sphinx," said Red Wig, gesturing toward an etching on the far wall, "whose speech alternates between long periods of silence and an occasional riddle. Old as time. Highly respected.
Doubtless senile. She keeps her mouth shut and waits. For what? Who knows?-Does your taste in art run to the monolithic, Srin Shtigo?"
"Occasionally," he observed, from my left.
DOS Santos glanced once, quickly, over his shoulder, then back at Diane. He said nothing.
I asked Red Wig to pass me the salt and she did.
I really wanted to dump it on her, to make her stay put so that I could study her at my leisure, but I THIS IMMORTAL 61
used it on the potatoes instead.
Behold the Sphinx, indeed!
High sun, short shadows, hot-that's how it was.
I didn't want any sand-cars or Skimmers spoiling the .scene, so I made everybody hike it. It wasn't that far, and I took a slightly roundabout
"About your book, Srin Shtigo ..." I interrupted.
My use of the honorific stopped him.
"Yes?" he answered.
"My impression," said I, "is that you do not wish THIS IMMORTAL 59
to discuss it at any length at this time. I respect this feeling, of course, but it places me in a slightly awkward position as head of this tour." We both knew I should have asked him in private, especially after his reply to Phil at the reception, but I was feeling cantankerous and wanted to let him know it, as well as to rechannel the talk. So, "I'm curious,"
I said, "whether it will be primarily a travelogue of the places we visit, or if you would like assistance in directing your attention to special local conditions of any sort-say, political, or current cultural items."
"I am primarily interested in writing a descriptive travelbook," he said, "but I will appreciate your comments as we go along. I thought that was your job, anyway. As it is, I do have a general awareness of Earth traditions and current affairs, and I'm not very much concerned with them."
DOS Santos, who was pacing and smoking as our meai^was being prepared, stopped in mid-stride and said, "Srin Shtigo, what are your feelings toward the Returnist movement? Are you sympa-thetic with our aims? Or do you consider it a dead issue?"
"Yes," he replied, ^o the latter. I believe that when one is dead one's only obligation then is to satisfy the consumer. I respect your aims, but I do not see how you can possibly hope to realize them.
Why should your people give up the security they now possess to return to this place? Most of the members of the present generation have never even seen the Earth, except on tapes-and you must admit that they are hardly the most encouraging documents,"
"I disagree with you," said DOS Santos, "and I 60 ROGER ZELAZNY
find your attitude dreadfully patrician."
"That is as it should be," replied Myshtigo.
George and the food arrived at about the same time. The waiters began serving the food.
"I should prefer to eat at a small table by myself," DOS Santos instructed a waiter.
"You are here because you asked to be here," I mentioned.
He stopped in mid-flight and cast a furtive look at Red Wig, who happened to be sitting at my right hand-I thought I detected an almost imperceptible movement of her head, first to the left, then to the right.
DOS Santos composed his features around a small smile and bowed slightly.
"Forgive my Latin temperament," he observed.
"I should hardly expect to convert anyone to Returnism in five minutes-and it has always been difficult for me to conceal my feelings."
"That is somewhat obvious."
"I'm hungry, "I said.
He seated himself across from us, next to George.
"Behold the Sphinx," said Red Wig, gesturing toward an etching on the far wall, "whose speech alternates between long periods of silence and an occasional riddle. Old as time. Highly respected.
Doubtless senile. She keeps her mouth shut and waits. For what? Who knows?-Does your taste in art run to the monolithic, Srin Shtigo?"
"Occasionally," he observed, from my left.
DOS Santos glanced once, quickly, over his shoulder, then back at Diane. He said nothing.
I asked Red Wig to pass me the salt and she did.
I really wanted to dump it on her, to make her stay put so that I could study her at my leisure, but I THIS IMMORTAL 61
used it on the potatoes instead.
Behold the Sphinx, indeed!
High sun, short shadows, hot-that's how it was.
I didn't want any sand-cars or Skimmers spoiling the .scene, so I made everybody hike it. It wasn't that far, and I took a slightly roundabout
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