“You know Regulo better than I do,” broke in Corrie. “But I don’t think this is the place for us to talk about him. We have a reservation in the restaurant, and I’m sure that you need to get to a private booth.”
Rob heard the significant stress on the word “private.” Corrie knew what was happening to Senta.
“She’s quite right, Senta.” Howard Anson’s voice was a pleasant tenor as he entered the conversation for the first time. “We ought to get to the private booths, and you know how the restaurant reservations are run here. They operate everything to the split-second. If these people don’t get to their table in time, the food won’t be any better than it would be anywhere else in the System. They’ll miss a unique experience. We ought to separate now and go our own ways.”
Senta was nodding. She had released Rob’s hands and seemed to be deep in thought. “One moment, then we’ll be on our way. I just want to say goodbye to Cornelia, and her friend Rob Merlin… Merlin… Merlin…”
Her dark face suddenly changed and become the setting for a dozen different expressions. Delight, fear, the flush of sexual fulfillment, the smile of seduction and the frozen blank of grief followed each other across her countenance. The taliza was exercising its unique alchemy. Inside Senta’s brain, beyond any shred of conscious control, the synapses had become hyper-active, changing and re-connecting the channels of thought in response to a sudden input stimulus.
Senta was coming off the first great high and needing her booster, but she was still in a condition where any stimulus might throw her back to the past. After the first random emotions, her face was settling into a pattern of deep worry and concern, with an unhappy frown wrinkling her perfect forehead.
“Merlin… Merlin has them,” she said. She seemed to be talking to someone tall, looking up attentively into an invisible face. “That’s right, Gregor Merlin. I just heard it from Joseph, over the video. He has no idea how they got there, but he’s convinced they are located in the labs.”
She paused, listening to inner voices. The others watched her without speaking. Senta’s companions all clearly knew what was happening to her. Rob noticed with a sudden chill that Senta’s face had even changed in its overall impression. Much of the maturity had gone from it, leaving a younger and more vulnerable result. Corrie reached out her hand to Senta, then pulled it back without touching as Anson made a quick gesture to restrain her.
After a few seconds of silence, Senta nodded to her unseen companion. “That’s right, there are two of them. No, they weren’t alive — there was no air in the supply capsule. I don’t know if Merlin knows where they came from, but he must have a good idea. He told McGill he had found two Goblins — that’s his name for them — in a returned medical supply box. He sent one of them to another man, Morrison, and now he’s going to try and…”
She stopped speaking and coughed harshly. Her full chest began to heave in deep, labored breathing and the spasms came back to her face, a tableau of shifting expressions. She was reeling back through the years, returning from her brief visit to the past. Howard Anson put an arm around her, supporting and comforting, as the big dark eyes slowly focused again on the present.
“Come along, Senta,” Anson said gently. While she was still unresisting he began to lead her away along the blue-walled corridor that led to the private booths of Way Down. After a brief, uncertain look at Rob and Corrie, the other couple followed Anson without attempting a conventional leavetaking. As they moved down the corridor, Howard Anson turned and flashed an apologetic look back at Rob and Corrie.
“She’ll be all right in a minute or two,” he said. He looked tenderly at Senta, who rested trembling against his shoulder. “You two go ahead and have your meal and don’t worry about all this. Now you’ve seen it, I hope you’ll never let anybody talk you into trying taliza — not even a partial dose. What you just saw isn’t the worst part. It’s nothing like the worst part.”
Rob shook his head as the others disappeared from view. “I’ve seen it before in the construction crews. He’s quite right, what we saw isn’t the worst part. You ought to see somebody who’s suffering withdrawal symptoms and can’t get a dose. Do you have any idea what all the rest of that was about? I had the feeling that one of those men — Howard Anson — knew exactly what was happening to Senta.”
Corrie shrugged. Her pale eyes were frightened, but she seemed to have herself under firm control. “I’d never seen it before, only heard about it. But you know how taliza works, she was off somewhere in the past. She must have known somebody with your name, a long time ago. When she said it, that was the trigger to set her off.” She looked along the corridor, as though to follow the other party, then checked herself. “I suppose we’d better get along to the restaurant. We’re late already.”
“But she said Gregor Merlin.” Rob walked alongside Corrie, but he was like a man in a trance. “That was my father’s name. And she said that she’d heard from Joseph. I know that isn’t a particularly uncommon name, but when we met Joseph Morel, up at the station, he said that he’d known my father. I’m getting worried about the number of coincidences.”
They were greeted at the entrance of the Indian restaurant — Corrie’s preference — by a white-robed figure who led them silently to their table. Like any facility at Way Down, privacy was available at the flick of a switch. Sound and sight inhibitors would come into operation, shielding Rob and Corrie’s words and actions from neighboring diners. About half the patrons used the inhibitors. The rest were there because they wanted to be seen. Celebrity-spotting was a big piece of Way Down.
Corrie turned on the inhibitors, leaving them in a silent, white-walled room. The discreet human servitors seemed to step in through solid walls as they offered their quiet suggestions and recommendations to the two diners. The whole restaurant held about four hundred patrons, and at least twice that number of attendants providing food, wine and stimulants to the diners.
As they settled into their seats Corrie bent her head to the long, hand-scrolled menu. As with everything at Way Down, manual service was the rule — robochefs were not used, even in the kitchens. Rob could not see Corrie’s eyes, but her tone sounded artificially casual as she spoke.
“It’s not coincidence, Rob. Senta suggested that she knows Regulo well, and that’s a fact. Knows him very well. For a long time, many years ago, they were lovers until it became obvious that he couldn’t live on Earth much longer. I don’t know why she didn’t follow him, but he says that she couldn’t stand the idea of leaving everybody here on Earth. She needs all her friends, to bolster her confidence. But she knew Joseph Morel, back in the days when she lived with Regulo — and if he knew your father, then it isn’t surprising that Senta knew him, too.”
“You don’t like her, do you?” Rob said it deliberately. He wanted to startle Corrie out of her remote and wooden mood. He was surprisingly successful. She lifted her head and looked at him for a long time with those intense, troubled eyes, as unexpected as ever in the dark complexion.
“You have it backwards, Rob.” Her voice was husky. “I would have gone with her just now, but I knew she wouldn’t want me to. I don’t go where she is for her sake. I used to think that she didn’t want me around because it would reveal to her fancy friends how old she is. Now I think perhaps she doesn’t want me to see what taliza is doing to her, and doesn’t want me saddened. I never introduced her by her full name, you know. It is Senta Plessey. She is my mother.”
Corrie looked down again at the menu in front of her. “We haven’t seen much of each other in the last ten years,” she went on in a low voice. “That’s my fault more than hers, I suppose — I chose to live off-Earth. I don’t really know why I haven’t tried to see her more, even though our life-styles are completely different.” She looked up again, pleadingly. “If you don’t mind, Rob, I want to change the subject. And I don’t want to talk about work, either. Unless you have to talk about Darius Regulo tonight, I’d rather let it wait for another day. No beanstalks, no Atlantis, and no taliza — I want some relaxation.”