Текст книги "Cyteen "
Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh
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"Sociology ran the TR design all the way past ten generations and it's still clean. Jordan called it clean as anything they're running."
Grant pounded the doorframe and grinned. "Bastard! You could have said!"
Justin raised an eyebrow. "I may be a son of a bitch, friend, but the very one thing I can't possibly be is a bastard. And now even Giraud will have to own up to it."
Grant hurled himself out into the living room again, crying: "Late, dammit! This isn't fair!"
In a moment the front door opened and shut.
There flatly was no time to go over things in the morning, even working back to back in the same office. Grant ticked away at the keyboard with occasional mutters to the Scriber-input, a constant background sound, while Justin ran the fax-scanner on his notes and Jordan's and the transcription of the whole week's sessions, punched keys where it was faster and sifted and edited and wrestled nearly fourteen hundred hours of constant transcription into five main topics with the computer's keyword scanning. Which still might miss or misfile things, so there was no question of dumping it: he created a sixth topic for Unassigned and kept the machine on autoTab, which meant it filed the original locations of the information.
He had four preliminary work-ups and one report nearing turn-in polish before Grant startled him out of a profound concentration and told him they had ten minutes to get to the restaurant.
He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, saved down and stretched and flexed shoulders that had been rigid for longer than he had thought.
"Nearly done on the Rubin stuff," he said.
But that was not what he and Grant talked about all the way downstairs and across to North Wing, through the door at Changesand as far as their table—small respite for ordering drinks, more report, another break for ordering lunch, and into it again.
"The next thing," he said, "is getting Yanni to agree to test."
Grant said: "I'd take it."
"The hell you will."
Grant lifted a brow. "I wouldn't have any worry about it. I d actually be a damned goodsubject, since it couldn't put anything over on me I couldn't identify—I understand the principles of it a hell of a lot better than the Test Division is going to—"
"And you're biased as hell."
Grant sighed. "I'm curious what it feels like. You don't understand, CIT. It's quite, quite attractive."
"Seductive is what I'm worried about. Youdon't need any motivation, friend, —a vacation, maybe."
"A tour of Novgorod," Grant sighed. "Of course. —I still want to seethe thing when you get through with it."
Justin gave him a calculated, communicative frown. They stillhad to worry about bugs; and telling Security how skilled Grant was at reading-absorption of a program was something neither one of them wanted to do.
That look said: Sure you would, and if you internalize it, partner, I'll break your fingers.
Grant smiled at him, wide and lazy, which meant: You smug CIT bastardy I can take care of myself.
A tightening of his lips: Dammit, Grant.
A wider smile, a narrowing of the eyes: Discuss it later.
"Hello," a young voice said, and Justin's heart jumped.
He looked at the young girl who had stopped beside their table, at a young girl in expensive clothes, clothes that somehow, overnight, seemed to have developed a hint of a waist; caught a scent that set his heart pounding in remembered panic, looked up into a face that was the child gone grave, shy—that had gotten cheekbones; dark eyes gone somber and, God, touched with a little hint of violet eyeshadow.
"Hello," he said.
"I haven't seen you in a while."
"No. I guess I've been pretty busy."
"I was back there." She indicated the area of the restaurant past the archway. "I saw you come in, but I was already started on my sandwich. I thought I'd say hello, though."
"It's good to see you," he said, and controlled his voice with everything he had, managing a cheerful smile: the kid could read people faster than any of Security's computers. "How's your classwork?"
"Oh, too much of it." Her eyes lit, kid again, but not quite. "You know uncle Denys is going to let me have a horse—but I have to birth it; anddo all the paperwork. Which is his way of getting me to study." She traced a design on the table edge with her finger. "I had the guppy business—" A little laugh. "But I turned that over to Amy Carnath. It was getting to be too much work, and now she'sdrafted her cousin in on it. Anyway– What are youdoing?"
"A government study. And some stuff of my own. I've been working hard too."
"I remember when you came to my party."
"I remember that too."
"What Wing do you work in?"
"I'm in Design."
"Grant too?" With a flash of dark eyes Grant's direction.
"Yes," Grant said.
"I'm starting to study that," she said. The finger started doing designs again. The voice was lower, lacking the little-girl pitch. It was a different, more serious expression, a different tone of voice than she gave the cameras. "You know I'm a PR, don't you?"
"Yes," he said calmly, oh, very calmly. "I knew that."
"My predecessor was pretty good at Design. Did you know her?"
God, what do I say?"I knew her, yes. Not very well. She was a lot older." Best to create no mysteries."She was my teacher for a little while."
The eyes flashed up from their demure down-focus, mild surprise, an evident flicker of thought. "That's funny, isn't it? Now you know a lot more than I do. I wish I could just take a tape and know everything."
"It's too much to learn from one tape."
"I know." Another soft laugh. "I know where I can go if I get a question, don't I?"
"Hey, I can't help you dodge your homework, your uncle would have my skin."
She laughed, tapped the table edge with her finger. "Your lunch is getting cold. I'd better get back to the lab. Nice to see you. You too, Grant."
"Nice to see you," Justin murmured; and: "Sera," Grant murmured in courtesy, as Ari went her way.
Justin tracked her till he was sure she was out the door, then let out his breath and dropped his forehead against his hands. "God." And looked up at Grant. "She's growing up, isn't she?"
"It was a courtesy," Grant said. "I don't think it was more than that."
"No," he agreed, and got himself together, picked up his fork and prodded tentatively at a piece of ham, determined not to pay attention to the unease in his stomach. "Not a bit of malice. She's a nice kid, a damn nice kid." He took the bite. "Jordan and I talked about that, too. Damn, I'd like to see her test records."
Grant made a frightened move of his eyes toward the wall. Remember the eavesdroppers.
"They're using the other—" Justin went on doggedly: Rubin was not a word they could toss around in the restaurant. "—the other subject—to see what they canget away with. And we can't get the results, dammit, for fifteen years."
"A little late," Grant murmured.
A little late to do anything for Ari's situation, Grant meant; and gave him a brows-knit look that said: For God's sake, let's not talk about this, here, now.
It was only good sense. "Yes," Justin said, as if he were answering the former, and took another bite and a drink to wash it down. He was starved after the battering on the flight: food service had been limited. And sweating over the terminal had worked up an appetite nothing could kill.
"Talk to Yanni," Grant said when they were walking across the open quadrangle, on their way back to the office, "and call Denys, the way you're supposed to. For both our sakes."
"I have every intention to," Justin said.
Which was the truth. What else he meant to say, he hesitated to mention.
But it was in the transcripts from Planys.
His opinion, and Jordan's, both ... for what little it was worth to an Administration worried about its own survival.
iv
Down into the tunnels, and, with Florian's little manipulation of the lock, down into the ventilation service area, from a direction that did nothave a keycard access involved: they always had to be first, because nobody else could get the door to their meeting-place open; and the last, because Florian and Catlin were the sharpest when it came to cleaning up and making sure they left no trace at all for the workmen to find.
They used several of these little nooks. They had them coded, so Ari had only to say: number 3, and Amy passed the word to Tommy and Maddy, and Tommy got Sam up from the port school.
So they waited for the knock, and all of them came together: Amy and Tommy and Sam. Maddy was with them. And a girl named 'Stasi Morley-Ramirez, who was the reason they were meeting in a place they didn't use very often.
'Stasi was a friend of Amy's and Maddy's, but Maddy had opened her mouth, that was what had happened.
'Stasi was scared, coming in here, she was real scared, and Ari stood there with her hands on her hips, glaring at her with Catlin on her left and the flashlight on the shipping can in front of them, which made their shadows huge and their faces scary—she knew that. She had practiced that with the mirror, too, and she knew what she looked like.
"Sit down," she told 'Stasi, and Amy and Tommy sat her straight down on a big waterpipe they used to sit on here, while Florian came up and stood behind her. So 'Stasi was the only one sitting. That was a psych.
"When you come down here," Ari said, "that's it. We either vote you in or you're in a lot of trouble, 'Stasi Ramirez. You're in a whole lot of trouble, because we don't like to lose a meeting-place. And if you tell Security, I'llfix you good, I'll see you and your maman get shipped out of here and you won't ever come back. Say you understand."
'Stasi nodded. Emphatically.
"So you tell us why you want in."
"I know all of them," 'Stasi said desperately, twisting around where she sat to look at Amy and Maddy and the rest.
"You don't know Sam."
"I know him," 'Stasi said. "I know him from the House."
"But you don't know him like friends. And Maddy can't vote, she's the one bringing you. And Amy and Tommy can't, they're friends of yours. So it's me and Sam and Florian and Catlin who get to say. —What do you think, Catlin?"
"What can she do?" Catlin asked in her flat way.
"What canyou do?" Ari asked.
"Like what?" 'Stasi asked anxiously. "What do you mean?"
"Like can you wire locks or memorize messages or get past a Minder or get stuff out of the lab?"
'Stasi's eyes got wider and wider.
"Catlin and Florian can do all that. They can kill people, for real. Take your head off with a wire. Pop. Just like that. Sam can get tools and wire and stuff. Maddy can get office stuff." And eyeshadow. "Tommy can get all kinds of stuff and what Amy and I do, you don't need to know about. What can you get?"
'Stasi got a more and more desperate look. "My mama and my dad manage Ramirez's.A lot of stuff, I guess. What do you need?"
She knew that already. Ramirez'swas a North Hall restaurant.
"Mmmmn," she said. "Knives and stuff."
"I could," 'Stasi said earnestly. "Or food. Or most anything like that. And my uncle's a flight controller. All sorts of airline stuff—"
"All right. That part's good enough. Here's the rest. If you get in and you do anything stupid and get caught, you don't talk about us. You say it was just you. But you don't getcaught. And you don't bring anybody here without asking. And you don't tell anybody about us. Hear?"
'Stasi nodded soberly.
"Swear?"
'Stasi nodded.
'Stasi didn't talk much. Like Sam. That was a good sign.
"I vote yes," Ari said. And Sam nodded, then. She looked at Florian and Catlin.
They didn't look like it was a bad idea. Catlin always frowned when she was considering somebody.
"They say all right," Ari said.
So everybody climbed over the pipe and sat down: it was clean. Florian and Catlin always made sure the sitting place was, because otherwise people could tell they were running around in dusty places.
And Florian and Catlin just squatted down when they were relaxing.
So they got down to business, which was her telling a lot about the trip to Novgorod—Sam had his new sweater on and so did Tommy, and Maddy wore her scarf, but Amy's pin was too good to wear to classes. Then they talked about the party Maddy was going to have, which theywere all going to be invited to, and Maddy was happy, about 'Stasi getting in, and about being important for a while.
It was true Maddy was an early developer. The way Maddy sat and the way the light came up from their makeshift table showed that, real plain; and she was always slinking around and fluttering at the boys.
Tommy took it all right. It really bothered Sam: poor Sam had grown up big and he was in kind of a clumsy stage, because he grew so fast, Tommy said, but Sam was mostly always banging his head on things—like he was always misjudging how tall he was. He was quick as Florian when it came to fixing something, his fingers were so fast it was amazing to watch him, and he could figure out mechanical things very fast.
Sam also was in love with her, sort of, Sam always had been, like he wanted really truly to be a special friend, but she never let him, because she just didn't feel that close to Sam from her side; and it made her mad when she saw how he took Maddy seriously and worried about it, like he knew he wasn't really part of the House, and he lived down next to the Town. Maddy was rich and that wasn't ever going to come to anything, no more than Sam with her.
She had all this figured out, in a years-away mode, that none of them were really serious yet, but Sam was born serious, and Maddy was onever since she learned there was a difference in boys and girls.
Sheknew. You didn't breed guppies and study horses without figuring out how thatworked, and why all of a sudden boys and girls were getting around to teasing each other.
She wasn't terribly interested. She resented the whole process. It made everybody act stupid, and it was a complication when you were trying to set things up with people.
Then she saw Maddy fake a trip when they were going out and nudge Florian with her hip.
You didn't push Florian: people bumping him scared him. But he recovered fast and put his arm out and she grabbed it, lucky she hadn't landed against the wall, because Florian had learned in Novgorod not to react too suddenly when they were in crowds.
Maddy managed to put her hands on his shoulders and laugh and pretend to catch her balance before she got out the door.
What Maddy didn't see was the funny look Florian gave her retreating back.
But Ari did. He was still wearing it when he looked back at her, like he thought he had just been Got in some vague way and wasn't sure whether he had reacted right or not.
She didn't help him out either. And she doubted Catlin understood.
v
It was a long time since Justin had come into Denys Nye's office. The last visit came back all too strongly: the heavy-set man at the desk, every detail of the room.
Giraud Nye's brother. One never forgot that either.
"Yanni said," Justin began, at the door, "you were willing to talk with me."
"Certainly. Sit down."
He came and sat down, and Denys leaned forward, hands on the desk. There was a dish of pastilles. Denys took one, offered the dish across the desk.
"No, ser, thank you."
Denys popped one in his mouth, leaned back with a creak of the chair, and folded his hands on his stomach. "Yanni sent me your work. He says you want to go Test. You're pretty confident about this one, are you?"
"Yes, ser. I am. It's a simple program. Nothing at all fancy. I don't think it'll have to run long."
"I don't think it's a problem that the Test Division can show us much about. Jordan says it'll run, it'll run without a glitch. The trouble with your work, after all, isn'twhat it does in generation one or even two. If it were, we—wouldn't have a problem with it, would we? We could just install and go."
Grant had arguments for the run too, azi-view. Grantunderstood how the Testers worked: Grant could do what the Testers did. But it was the last place he was going to say anything on that score, not if it cost him his chance, not if it was the one and only chance he would ever have.
Nothing—was worth Grant's safety.
"I value the Testers' opinion," he said quietly. "And their experience. They have a viewpoint the computers can't give me; that's why we go to them last, isn't it?"
"That's why their time is more valuable. But they still can't answer the multi-generational problem."
"I don't know, ser, I have a great deal of confidence in their emotional judgment. And the run would give me a lot if it could turn up anything, anysort of input. Jordan is saying it should run. He isn't saying that just because he's my father, ser. Not to me. Not on something that important."
Denys gave a slight, sad smile, and sighed. The chair creaked as he leaned forward and leaned his elbows on the table. And pushed a button. The bone-deep hum of the Silencer enveloped them, afflicting the nerves and unsettling the stomach. "But the problem is beyond a twenty-year study even if we gave you a full run with a geneset. That's the crux of it. Ultimately, proving whether you're right or wrong would take a Gehenna-style run. Twenty generations,not twenty years. We're just damn shy of planets to hand you. And what do we do with the culture that turns out if you're wrong? Nuke it? That's the scale you work on, son."
He heard nocoming, in a slow, sarcastic way, and bit his lip and controlled his temper. "Kind of like Emory," he said, bitterly. Ultimate hubris, in Reseune. And almost said: if your committee had had to vet her projects we'd still be a damn production farm.
But then he was in no wise sure what Emory had done twenty or thirty generations down, or how far, or whether Union itself worked, Denys' Gehenna-reference chilled him.
"Kind of like Emory," Denys said slowly, without inflection. "I'll tell you, Sociology has been mightily upset with your designs—the suggestion that they might have turned up a flaw in the projection programs, you know. You've given the programmers over there some sleepless nights. And quite honestly, we haven't spilled the fact to Defense. You know how excited they get."
"I've never thought of going to them."
"Never?"
"No, ser. I don't see any percentage in doing it. Reseune—has its advantages. More than Planys does."
"Even if Defense might promise you residency with Jordan."
He took a breath and felt the unease of the Silencer to the roots of his teeth. It was hard to ignore. "I havethought of that. I hope to get him back here, ser, not—not put both of us there. He understands. He hopes for the same thing. Someday. Or we could have leaked this to Defense. Neither of us has."
"Jordan never has likedDefense," Denys said. "They certainly didn't help him at his hearing."
"You've counted on that," Justin said quietly. "He could have talked to them. He didn't. Not that I ever know of."
"No, you're quite right. He doesn't trust them. But mostly the consideration of your career. And Grant's. Let's be frank. We know—how far he could push us... and why he won't. Let me go on being honest with you. He has every motive to lie to us and to you: to convince us you're valuable in your own right, to make sure you're protected—if he gets careless. You're very naive if you think he wouldn't do that."
He ignored the body blows and kept his face unmoved. "He values Grant too," he said. "And I do. You always have a hostage. All you have to do is keep him untouched."
"Of course. That's why Grant doesn't travel."
"But once—alone—even for a few hours—that trip would be worth it to Grant. And to my father. What's a hostage worth, if the one you're holding him against—forgets his value?"
Denys gave a heavy sigh. "Son, I don't enjoy this situation; and I had far rather have peace with the Warrick clan, God knows how, without making a slip that gets someone hurt. I'm being utterly honest with you, I'm telling you my worries in the matter. I still believe in you enough to have you in on the Project on Yanni's say-so. We're solvent again, but we're sure as hell not taking chances or spending wildly, and you're asking for a major amount of effort here, on something that's already been a headache to Sociology—"
"You say yourself, if those projections are wrong, if Sociology is working on flaws, then Defense ought to be interested. I'd call that a major matter, ser, I don't know what more it takes to qualify."
Denys frowned. "I was about to say, young friend, —'but, over all, a benefit.' All right, you get your test subject. Six-month run."
"Thank you, ser." Justin drew a whole breath. "I appreciate your honesty." Like hell."And I hope—from my side—you understand the meeting yesterday—"
"Absolutely," Denys said. "I do. I appreciate the call. Ari has lunch in there now and again. You can't stay in hiding. You handled it exactly right."
"I told her Ari was my instructor. Since she asked about my knowing her. I figured—I'd better say how I knew her—early."
"That falls in an area she can't research. But yes, I see your reasoning. I have no objection to it. Sometimes you have to make fast assessments with her—God knows. You should livewith her." Denys chuckled, and leaned back again. "She's a challenge. I know that, believe me."
"I—" God, it was an opening. It was lying in front of him. "The other thing I wanted to talk with you about: the Rubin sets, ser, I wish—wish you'd take a look at that, yourself; and my arguments. Working with Ari, the way you do, —I thought you—could give me a viewpoint—I don't have."
"On the Rubin case? Or regarding Ari?"
"I—see one bearing on the other. Somewhat. Ser."
Denys rocked his chair back and forth and lifted his brows. "Yanni told me."
"I just wonder if you'd take a look at the latest paper."
"I havelooked at it. Yanni sent it over. I'll tell you, a lot you're doing is quite, quite good. I'm aware of your personal profile. I know what a strain it is for you to work real-time, or anything close to it, and I appreciate the stress you've undertaken—for that boy on Fargone. I know it's hard for Morley to appreciate how much pressure you're under . . . your tendency to internalize these cases. Damn bad thing for a clinical psychologist. About Ari, let me tell you, of coursethe cases are linked and of courseyour worry for the Rubin boy is going to spill over in worry about Ari, your personal mindset guarantees it. —But we can'thand you the whole of both projects, you do understand that, Justin, no more than we can find you a planet to test with."
"I just—" He had had enough people calling him a fool in his life he should be less sensitive; but Denys didn't bludgeon, Denys was stinging and unexpected as a paper-cut. "—just hoped—if you had time, ser, you might want to consider contingencies."
Riposte to Denys.
Denys rocked forward again, leaned on the desk. "We're working an emergency course change with the Rubin baby. You're giving us a useful perspective on the Rubin case, because we havea problem, but we sure as hell aren't in that situation with Ari—"
"Rubinworked till the thing blew up, forgive me if I misunderstand, but the matter went deeper than Jenna Schwartz and Stella Rubin—"
"Let me tell you, Justin, I doworry about someone who's so sure he's right he can't conceive of being wrong. I know Yanni's talked to you about that problem."
"I'll send you my project papers. I'll pay for them. Enough for your damn committee. Point of information—is that interference?"He drew a breath. "I happen to think it's saneto consider related data in a case where a committee is running an untested program. I'm not asking you for data; I'm not asking you even for data on the Rubin case that I damn well need to work with, because I know I haven't got a chance in hell of getting it. But I can hand it to you, at my own expense, since Reseune can't afford the faxes, in the theory you ought to have it available. I don't call that interference. Shred it if you like. But at least I'll have tried!"
Denys rubbed his lip, and picked up another pastille. Popped it into his mouth. "Damn, you're persistent."
"Yes, ser."
Denys looked at him a very long time. "Tell me. Does your own experience—as Jordan's replicate—bear on your confidence that you understand the Project?"
The question he had not wanted asked. Ever. His heart hit bottom. I don't know. Everything bears on my ideas. How can I sort it out?"
"It's interesting to me. You were never aware of yourself as a replicate—until you were—how old?"
"Six. Seven. Something like. I don't remember."
"Always in Jordan's shadow. Always willing to take Jordan's opinion over your own. I think there is something in you . . . possibly a very important something. But sometimes I see other things: Jordan's stubbornness; his tendency to be rightbeyond all reason." Denys shook his head and sighed. "You have a hell of a way of applying for finance. Attack the people who can give it to you. Just exactly like Jordan."
"If politics matters more than what is, —"
"Damn, more and more like your father."
Justin shoved the chair back and got up to leave. Fast. Before he lost his temper altogether. "Excuse me, then."
"Justin, Justin, —remember? Remember who fundedyour research time? That was out of mybudget, at a time we could hardly afford it. I take everything you've said as an honest intent to help. I assure you. I have your report; I'll have my secretary fax it for the committee. And any other material you want to send."
He was left, on his feet, with the anger still running through him. It made a tremor in his muscles. He jammed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. "Then thank you, ser. What about my Test request?"
"God," Denys sighed. "Yes, son. You have it. No change in that. Just—do us all a favor. Don'tintrude any further into the Project. Keep on being prudent as you have been. Ari's handling everything very well. She's accepted being Ari's replicate, taken everything in stride. But she likes you. And she doesn't know how her predecessor died. Her time-frame on Ari is constantly lagged. The Ari she knows is five going on six, and beyond that, she's seen only a few pictures. Remember that."
"When willshe know?"
"I'm not sure," Denys said. "I tell you that honestly. We make decisions real-time on this side of the Project; there's no way for me to answer that question. But believe me—I will warn you, when it becomes—immediate. That's one of the things we worry about as much as you do."
vi
It was shotsagain. Ari winced as the hypo popped against her arm, not one hypo, but three, besides the blood tests she had had every few days of her life.
Nothing wrong with you,Dr. Ivanov had told her repeatedly. We just do this.
Which was a lie. Dr. Ivanov had finally said so, when she found out she was a replicate and asked whether the first Ari had had something wrong with her: No, but the first Ari had tests just like yours, because her maman knew she was going to be somebody special, and because tests like these are valuable information. You're a very bright little girl. We'd like to know if something special goes on in your bloodstream.
But the shots made her dizzy and sick at her stomach and she was tired of getting shots and having needles in her arm.
She frowned at the nurse and thought where she would like to give the nurse a hypo, right when her back was turned. But she took the thermometer under her tongue a second till it registered, then took it out and looked at it.
"A point under," she told the nurse. Who insisted to look at it. "I always am. Do I get to go now?"
"Wait here," the nurse said, and went out, leaving her sitting in the damn robe and a little cold, the way the hospital always was, people could freezeto death in this place.
In a moment Dr. Ivanov came in. "Hello, Ari. Feeling fine?"
"The shot made me sick. I want to go get an orange or something."
"That's fine. That's a good idea." He came and took her pulse again. And smiled at her. "A little mad?"
"I'm tired of this. I've been in here twice this week. I'm not going to have any blood left."
"Well, your body is going through some changes. You're just growing up, sweet, that's all. Perfectly normal. You know a lot of it. But you're going to take a tape this afternoon. If you have any questions you can call me or Dr. Wojkowski, whichever you'd rather—she might be a little better at this."
She wrinkled her nose, not with any clear idea, really, what he was talking about, except she was embarrassed sitting there in the robe, which was more than she used to sit there in, and suspecting that it had to do with sex and boys and that she was going to be embarrassed as hell if she had to listen to Dr. Ivanov explain to her what she had already figured out.
Do you understand?he would ask her every three lines, and: Yes,she would say, because he would not get through it without that.
But he didn't mention it. He just told her go on to library, she had the tape to do.
They gave it to her to take home to use, on the house machine, so it wasn't one of the skill ones, that she had to take with a tech.
It certainly wasn't, she decided, when she saw the title. It said Human Sexuality.She was embarrassed in front of the librarian, who was a man, and tucked it into her bag and took it fairly straight home, very glad that Seely was out and Nelly was at her day job and there wasn't anyone around.
She applied the patch over her heart and lay down on the couch in the tape lounge and took the pill. When the pill began to work she pushed the button.
And was awfully glad, in a vague, tape-dazed way, that she hadn't had to take this one with any tech sitting by her.
There werethings she hadn't known, things a lot different than horses, and things the same, and things Dr. Edwards had sort of hit on in biology, but not really explained with pictures and in the detail the tape had.
When it was over she lay there recovering from the pill and feeling really funny—not bad. Not bad at all. But like something was going on with her she could not control, that she sure as hell didn't want uncle Denys or Seely to know about.
It certainly had to do with sex. And it was hard to get up finally and get her mind off it. She thought about doing the tape again, not that she was not going to remember, but because she wanted to try out the feeling again, to see if it was the way she remembered it.
