She handed him the glass, and he took a small sip, then winced. “It has a sharp flavor,” he said.

Mary nodded. “You get to like it,” she said.

Ponter handed the glass back to her. “Perhaps one would,” he said. Mary slowly finished the wine, enjoying the rustic, charming inn—and the company of this gentle man.

The balding innkeeper obviously knew who Ponter was; his appearance, after all, was striking, and Ponter was speaking softly in his own language, so that Hak could translate his words. Finally, it clearly got to be too much for the man. “I’m sorry,” he said, coming to their table, “but Mr. Ponter, could I have your autograph?”

Mary heard Hak bleep, and Ponter raised his eyebrow. “Autograph,” said Mary. “That’s your own name, written out. People collect such things from celebrities.” Another bleep. “Celebrities,” repeated Mary. “Famous people. That’s what you are.”

Ponter looked at the man, astonished. “I—I would be honored,” he said at last.

The man handed Ponter a pen, then flipped over the little pad he used for taking orders, exposing its white cardboard back. He placed it on the table in front of Ponter.

“You usually write a few words in addition to your name,” said Mary. “‘Best wishes,’ or something like that.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Yes, please.”

Ponter shrugged, clearly stunned by it all, and then made a series of symbols in his own language. He handed the pad and the pen back to the man, who scurried away, delighted.

“You’ve made his day,” Mary said after he disappeared.

“Made his day?” repeated Ponter, not getting the idiom.

“I mean, he will always remember today because of you.”

“Ah,” said Ponter, smiling at her over the candle. “And I will always remember this day because of you.”

Chapter 41

Assuming Lurt could pull it off, Adikor would have access to the quantum-computing lab tomorrow. But he needed to make some arrangements before then.

Saldak was a big town, but Adikor knew most of the scientists and engineers on its Rim, and a good fraction of those who lived in the Center. In particular, he’d become friends with one of the engineers who maintained the mining robots. Dern Kord was a fat and jolly man—there were those who said he let robots do too much of his work. But a robot was just what this job called for. Adikor set out to see Dern; now that it was evening, Dern should be home from work.

Dern’s house was large and rambling; the tree that formed the bulk of its shape must have been a thousand months old, dating to the very beginnings of modern arboriculture.

“Healthy—well, healthy evening,” said Adikor as he came up to Dern’s home. Dern was seated out on his deck, reading something on an illuminated datapad. A thin mesh between the deck’s floor and the awning above it kept out insects.

“Adikor!” said Dern. “Come in, come in—watch the flap there; don’t let the bugs follow. Will you have drink? Some meat?”

Adikor shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“So, what brings you here?” asked Dern.

“How are your eyes?” asked Adikor. “Your vision?”

Dern flared his nostrils at the odd question. “Fine. I’ve got lenses, of course, but I don’t need them for reading—at least not on this pad; I just choose larger symbols.”

“Go get your lenses,” said Adikor. “I have something I want to show you.”

Dern looked puzzled, but headed into the house. A moment later, he emerged with a pair of lenses connected to a wide elasticized fabric band. He slipped the band over his head, bringing it down to nestle in the furrow behind his browridge. The lenses were on little hinges; he flipped them down over his eyes and looked at Adikor expectantly.

Adikor reached into the pouch attached to the left hip of his pant and pulled out the sheet of thin plastic he’d written on this afternoon. Adikor had made the symbols as small as he possibly could—he’d had to search for a stylus with a fine-enough point. Scanner resolution had improved since those images of Adikor hitting Ponter had been recorded, but there still was a limit to how much detail could be made out. Adikor had endured cramps in his right hand making ideograms smaller than anyone back at the archive building could possibly read.

“What’s this?” said Dern. taking the sheet and peering at it. “Oh!” he exclaimed as he began reading. “Really! Do you think? Well, well … I can’t let you have a new one, of course—not if there’s a good chance you’re going to lose it. But I’ve got several old ones that are due to be decommissioned; one of those should fit the bill.” Adikor nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now, where and when do you need this?”

Adikor was about to shush him, but for all his exuberance, Dern was no idiot. He nodded after finding the information he was looking for on the sheet. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be there, waiting for you.”

After dinner, Ponter and Mary got into Mary’s car and started driving back toward Sudbury. “I enjoyed today,” said Ponter. “I enjoyed getting out of the city. But I suppose I should now see other places.”

Mary smiled. “There’s a whole wide world out there waiting to meet you.”

“I understand,” said Ponter. “And I must accept my new life as … a curiosity.”

Mary opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Ponter was a curiosity; in a crueler century, he’d have ended up as a circus freak. Finally, she just let the comment pass, and said, “Our world has a lot of variety. I mean, geographically it’s no more varied than yours, I’m sure, but we have many cultures, many kinds of architecture, many ancient buildings.”

“I understand that I must travel; that I must contribute,” said Ponter. “I had thought to stay here, to stay near Sudbury, in case, somehow, the portal reopened, but it has been so many days now. I am sure Adikor has tried; he must, therefore, have failed—the conditions must not be reproducible.” Mary could hear reluctant acceptance growing behind his words. “Yes, I will go wherever I am expected to go; I will go far from here.”

By then they were well away from the lights of the inn and the small village it had been part of. Mary looked out her side window, noticing the sky.

“My God,” she said.

“What?” said Ponter.

“Look at all those stars! I’ve never seen so many!” Mary pulled the car over to the side of the country road, getting it well up on the shoulder, out of the way of any traffic that might come along. “I’ve got to have a look.” She got out of her car, and Ponter did the same. “It’s gorgeous,” said Mary, bending her neck backward and looking up.

“I always enjoy the night sky,” said Ponter.

“I never get to see it like this,” said Mary. “Not in Toronto.” She snorted. “I live on a street called Observatory Lane, but you’re lucky if you can see a few dozen stars on even the darkest winter night.”

“We do not light up the outside world at night,” said Ponter.

Mary shook her head in wonder, imagining not needing to have streetlights, not needing to protect yourself from your own kind. But suddenly her heart jumped. “There’s something in the bush,” she said softly.

She couldn’t really see Ponter as anything more than a vague outline, but she could hear him inhale deeply. “Just a raccoon,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Mary relaxed and tipped her head up to look at the stars some more. Her neck creaked a bit as she did so; it wasn’t a comfortable posture. But then a memory came back to her from her teenage years. She stepped over to the Neon’s front, and scooted her rear up onto the hood, then worked her way back until she was leaning comfortably against the windshield on the driver’s side. She patted the hood next to her and said, “Here, Ponter. Have a seat.”