“Perhaps I’d better.” No one bluffed Hlet. He made the call. “York—do you have a new man, name of Knot?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied smoothly. “Did I forget to notify you? I’m sorry; we’ve been so busy. He’s been with us several days. He’s a min-mutant, right-handed—”
“Thank you.” Hlet cut the connection. “Never can get anything straight around here. How can I help you?”
York had covered for him, as she always did. They had it down to a routine, and played this scene for someone almost every day. York was not immune to Knot’s psi, but she remembered the routine so well that the slightest nudge sufficed. “I was audited this morning,” Knot said. “A normal from CC—”
“Oh, yes. They do check us out periodically. They don’t really care about things like our winery or untaxed artifacts. You’ll get used to it. Did you brush her off?”
“Not exactly. She asked about the leadmuter—”
“You didn’t show him to her!” Hlet exclaimed, aghast. “We don’t admit to any outsider that—”
“I had no choice. She already knew of him, somehow; a lie would have been disaster. But I hope she will downgrade his performance in her report.”
“A CC auditor? They squeeze blood from stones!”
“And are interested in squeezing gold from lead. But it seems she considered me, ah, attractive as mutants go. So I saw no alternative except to—”
Hlet’s eyes widened appreciatively. He had the good of the enclave at heart, and was not scrupulous about how that good was achieved. “You romanced a normal?”
“I thought if she had an emotional attachment, she might be less inclined to—to damage the enclave.”
“You rogue! You may have real potential in your office. Let’s hope it works. We need the leadmuter, not to mention the penalties we could suffer for—”
“Yes. Nothing is certain, but it is my understanding that she will go easy on us. Perhaps only a reprimand, and we will not lose the leadmuter.”
“Keep up the good work, Knot. You should do well here. Your predecessor did an excellent job. I forget his name—”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll strive to fill his shoes.” Knot departed. He had fulfilled the letter of his duty.
• • •
“You’re a sly one,” his secretary York said, “You used you-know-what on you-know-who, didn’t you!”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Knot said, smiling. “Anything I did was purely in the line of business.”
“But some business is sweeter than others. Just watch it doesn’t backfire one day. Suppose one of those floozies you seduce catches on?”
“You never catch on, do you?”
“Of course I catch on. Usually. I think. But I don’t count. I’m not a floozie. And I have my notes. Been some time since I made a note, though.”
“I’ll update your notebook shortly. What could she prove, anyway?”
“If she bribed me, she could prove a lot.”
“I’ve already counter-bribed you.” He stretched, his right hand almost brushing the ceiling while his left fell far short. “What’s the tote, today?”
“Routine.” Then her phone buzzed. Knot waited while she answered it. Her lips pursed. “Finesse? Certainly; he will be ready.” She disconnected.
“She’s coming back?” Knot asked, surprised.
“It seems she forgot to ask a question or two, last time.”
“Didn’t you give her the literature?”
“Of course I did! You think I have a death wish? But she’s a CC auditor; she’s clever despite her appearance. A pretty face can mask a viciously cunning mind. I think you’re in trouble, Knot.”
“No doubt. But I’ve been in trouble before. Maybe she merely hankers after the same medicine she got before.”
“Especially if she’s pregnant,” York said with irony. “We shall see, all too soon.”
Finesse arrived on schedule. She was just as pretty as before. Knot knew he could not afford to see much more of her, lest he get emotionally hooked.
Knot had cleared the hour, knowing he had to employ a deft touch on this case. “So good to see you again, Auditor! I understand there was some item we neglected to cover?”
She squinted at him as if trying to remember him. That was reassuring; it meant his psi had worked, and that she remembered nothing of their private walk. Her recollection would encompass York and the enclave and the literature she had been given—literature carefully crafted to conceal the enclave’s secrets—and she would know that someone had shown her about, and that he must have been the one, so she had to play along, pretending to remember him. “Yes. I had intended to clarify the matter of the leadmuter, but fear I forgot.”
Knot considered. “Leadmuter?” he asked as though perplexed.
“I think it would be best if I could actually see this mutant. I realize that the name is more suggestive than the reality, but as long as there is any question—I’m sure you understand.”
He certainly did! She had fallen into his trap, and all her clever exposure of his secrets had cone to nothing. Now, like the good scout she was, she was trying to remedy her seeming neglect. It would be easier to fool her the second time, now that he knew she was susceptible to his psi. “Oh, of course. We must have complete accuracy for CC! I’ll take you there now.”
“That is most kind of you,” she said with a certain edge.
How much did she suspect? Ordinary people could be fooled easily, but to a trained observer the discrepancies of memory and experience became upsetting.
Soon they were outside, following the same trail as before. Finesse had not dressed properly this time, either, which was another encouraging evidence of her loss of memory. She wore a green jumper-dress that deepened the green of her eyes and showed her fine calves to advantage. Her shirt, however, fit more closely about her neck, permitting no “accidental” exposures there. Ah well, he thought; chance gave and chance took away; today was a leg-admiring day. Unless he managed to seduce her again; then he might get to see it all. Yet that was chancy; women had ways of remembering seductions when they forgot routine things. York was a good example; she had uncanny ability to fathom what he had or had not done with her the night before, and generally let him know. He would be safest to keep his hands off Finesse, despite considerable temptation.
“I really should have done this the first time,” Finesse said, pausing to unhook her skirt from a tenacious bramble, in the process showing as nice a knee as Knot could recall. “I can’t think why I didn’t. I don’t recall raising the issue at all. “
Yes, indeed. “Well, the leadmuter is only one of several hundred mutants here,” Knot said. “I dare say you overlooked him in the confusion. He’s just an old man who likes to work with old lead, trying to make things from it. Harmless hobby.”
“I suppose so. Your literature does make that clear. But it still seems odd I didn’t check it out directly.”
“By no means. You must be very busy.”
He helped her negotiate a steep bank, bracing himself while she put one hand on his shoulder for steadiness as she climbed. Then she stood at the top, her feet at the level of his head, waiting for him to climb. Oh, my, those legs!
“Even more confusing is the discrepancy between my memory of the occasion and the holo recording I made.”
Oh, no! Knot thought, caught in mid admiration of her limbs. The utter bitch!
He scrambled up the bank while he wrestled with it in his mind. How was he going to deal with this? His psi did not work on machines. Finesse had been playing with him all this time, letting him lie himself deeper into trouble, and now he was fairly trapped. Had he not been so absorbed by her anatomy, he might have caught on in time to prepare a countermove—as she surely was aware. Why did he keep having to bite at the bait she proffered?
Well, at least he could survey the extent of the damage before proceeding further. Are you with us Hermine? he thought.
There was
a ripple of surprise. You know me?
I think you’re the prettiest weasel I know, with wonderful psi power. How is Mit?
How can you know me when I do not know you? Mit is fine.
We met before. You forgot. You can read it in my memory. What is Finesse up to?
She is very angry with you.
“Are you all right, Knot?” Finesse inquired solicitously.
“Uh, just startled. I’m not sure I know what you mean uh, by ‘recording.’”
She is absolutely furious. She knows you’re lying.
Finesse smiled angelically as she lightly brushed the dirt off his clothing. “I’ll be happy to clarify it, Knot.”
Please don’t tell her anything, Hermine. Let me play my game. Mit will tell you I mean no harm to Finesse or to you.
I know that, Knot. Mit does not read thoughts; he reacts empirically. Finesse is ready to cut you into bite-sized pieces with blood dripping. The weasel paused, reflecting. Oh, that looks delicious!
“Are you sure you’re well, Knot?” Finesse’s voice was soft, her eyes filled with innocent concern. What an actress she was!
“At the moment.” Or was the weasel having fun with him? Finesse gave absolutely no evidence of ill favor. Yet if she really had a holograph of their prior encounter... “Somehow I have the impression you’re piqued with me.”
“You have been thinking with Hermine. She always did have too free a mind.”
“Yes. Why did you introduce me to these animals? You could have trapped me much more effectively if I had never known of them or their abilities. As it is, I like Hermine, and I believe she likes me. That compromises your main weapon.”
“That was part of the interview. We had to know how well you related to the animals. Hermine, especially, has trouble communicating with minds she doesn’t like.”
Yes, the weasel agreed. With you it’s easy, naughty man.
“Perhaps it is tine we turned our cards face up,” he said.
“High time!”
She is putting the pieces through a meat grinder.
“I am very curious to know the nature of your interest in me.”
Her voice was dulcet. “Do you customarily provide auditors with faked data to buttress their lapses of memory?”
She is grinding the pieces into jelly, Hermine thought gleefully.
“Do you customarily seduce your auditees?” Knot responded.
“That’s my job!” At least her temper was showing now.
“Women of that profession do not normally represent themselves as representatives of the Coordination Computer.”
Oh, naughty man! You’ve done it now! She is burning the jelly into noxious smoke.
“You know very well what I mean,” Finesse said with a mild frown. “It is my job to ascertain how a prospective CC recruit reacts to people and situations.”
“Well, it’s my job to protect the interests of my enclave.”
Good shot. She respects that attitude.
“You have the power to erase memories,” Finesse said. “You used it on me. Had I not verified my experience with the recording, I would have been sadly confused.”
“You were not intended to remember. You would have gone on to your next assignment, and Enclave Min-Mute 58 would have proceeded undisturbed, no harm done.”
“It is not my business to be deceived!” Increasingly, her ire was showing, as it worked its way out of her system in the manner of a deep bruise, discoloring the surface only as the healing process advanced.
“You recorded everything?”
“Of course. It is standard CC policy in such cases. Machines are immune to most mind-affecting psi, since machines do not have subjective perception. I now remember the full interview—via that holographic reminder. And you were quite ready to lie to cover it up.”
“You lied to me first,” he protested. “You claimed to be auditing the leadmuter.” He was getting angry himself.
She’s cooling, Hermine announced. She understands this sort of dealing.
“I was auditing the leadmuter—and you,” Finesse said hotly. “To determine whether CC can use you.”
“I refuse to be used by CC.”
She likes your independence, grudgingly.
What a marvelous little lie detector! No wonder Finesse had managed him so well, before. Fortunately she and Hermine had underestimated the potency of his psi, and been overcome by it.
Now if only he could find a way to get rid of that holo—
Naughty man! You never give up.
Don’t tell on me!
I wouldn’t think of it. It’s so much fun watching you operate. The weasel’s admiration for his villainy infused her thoughts.
“It could be very important,” Finesse was saying. “I had to be sure you were right for the position.”
“I’m right for my present position, and wrong for CC, I assure you. I don’t like big government.”
“CC is not government at all,” she argued. They had come to the field where they had made love before, and here she paused. The grass remained flattened where they had lain, mute vindication of the holograph’s account. “The Coordination Computer just happens to be the only instrument capable of organizing the incredible variety of physical and mental mutations that space travel has brought to the human species. There are millions of people settling thousands of worlds scattered through billions of stars; the mere job of locating a known planet in the immensity of space is a colossal calculation with a prohibitively small margin for error. If it were not for the computer’s ability to match specific mutants to specific habitats, and direct them there, there would be no human colonization of the galaxy at all.”
“I am familiar with the rationale,” Knot said dryly. How could she stand there, looking at the flattened grass, while spouting CC propaganda? “Some mutants can breathe only methane-dominated atmosphere, so they are matched with methane worlds. Some can survive only in quarter-gravity, so they are sent to low-gee worlds. All this may be good and necessary, if we set aside the fact that mutancy is impermanent; mutants breed normals, not more mutants of their type, on the rare occasions when they manage to breed at all. So if normals cannot survive on those frontier planets the colonists can never raise families. There will never be self-sustaining human communities there. Regardless, it makes the Coordination Computer the de facto ruler of mankind. I distrust and fear that power, and do not want to be associated with it.”
She is getting to like you, Hermine thought. Now you are not deceiving her, you are speaking from the heart. And you like her because she is very pretty. Are you going to copulate again?
Go chase a fat vole! he thought violently, and the weasel made a ripple of humor.
To Finesse he said: “Something tells me I had better get the hell away from you before you talk me into something I don’t like.”
“You seemed to like it well enough last time!” Finesse snapped, glancing again at the place where they had lain. “Not that I remember how I felt.” How cleverly her manner deviated from her mood!
“Just how much detail did that recording show? If you had a bug hidden on your person, it could not have picked up a great deal of detail of that sort.”
“See for yourself,” she said, smiling grimly. She brought out a sphere, holding it in her hand. In a moment a haze formed around it. A larger sphere of image developed, obliterating her hand and her arm to the elbow. It showed Knot and Finesse in quarter size, standing together, kissing, and proceeded in full-color animation from there.
Knot watched, spellbound. There was no doubt about it: this was a genuine recording, not a re-creation. He remembered the episode vividly. Now, as voyeur, he became strongly excited. There were details he could perceive in the image that he had been unable to see while in action, pornographically complete, and they—
He saw Finesse’s eyes beyond the spherical image, bearing on him. She was watching this too. How could a man properly appreciate a stag film, when its object was w
atching the subject? Yet that instant of embarrassment of realization only increased his reaction. He wanted her again, with a craving much greater than before. The first time, there had been great promise; this time there was confirmation.
But he controlled himself. “You were angry because I made you forget this,” he said. “Because you had to learn it from the recording.”
“Wouldn’t you be angry? You robbed me of my most intimate experience! And you did it deliberately!”
“Involuntarily,” he said. “I don’t control my psi. Everyone forgets me, within an hour of separation from me. Sometimes much sooner. My own enclave supervisor meets me for the first time every few days. I always eat in the newcomer section of the mess hall. The people I interview and place in compatible positions never remember who did that favor for them, and no one reminds them. I am the original forgotten man. So I live for the present, taking my joys on an immediate basis, knowing memories count for nothing. I couldn’t have let you retain that experience if I had wanted to.”
“What about your secretary, Pork? She knows.”
“Her name is York. She transcribes my interviews from a distance, so is not affected. She remembers what she needs to, and more important, remembers that everyone else forgets. She covers for me all the time. But when I seduce her, she too forgets. She knows it has happened because she makes notes on everything, but she can’t remember it personally. It’s a great frustration to her. She always hopes one day she’ll find the key and retain a memory. It’s a game we play.”
You are holding something back, Hermine thought. It is your background mind. There is a way to retain memory—
Keep the secret! Knot thought.
“And I, a top-notch investigative interviewer, with the assistance of clairvoyance, precognition and telepathy—you made a complete, utter and thorough fool of me! My report was at absolute variance with my recording. CC must have laughed its circuits loose!”
She’s working into another fit, Hermine thought. I haven’t perceived a show like this in months!
“I’m sorry,” Knot said, “We all do what we must do. You were playing cruel games with me, so I played back my trump. I love this enclave, I like the work I do, I value my freedom, and I am loyal to my own kind. You are a normal, representing the galactic government I detest. I had to put you off.”
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