“Of course I don’t.” You ignorant birdbrained weeny-dick byblow of a syphilitic whore. Once you dropped back into the old way of thinking, it was remarkably easy to stay there. The danger was that you’d talk that way.

Nick blamed himself more than Gordy Rolfe. What had ever led him to become dependent on such a savage? He knew the answer to that. No one else had the Argos Group’s capability to manage and if necessary mismanage so large a project. No one else had Gordy Rolfe’s genius for electronics. And no one else was as willing to damage the Earth in order to control it.

Of course, Nick had also cultivated Gordy Rolfe to be assured of his own survival. But was that guaranteed? How long would Gordy feel that he needed Nick Lopez?

“Don’t worry, Gordy.” Nick’s smile was broad and easy. “I’ll stay on this twenty-four hours a day. How about Maddy Wheatstone, though? Can you make her available to keep close to Hyslop?”

“Lopez, you don’t give me enough credit.” Rolfe cut the video link to slow fade and went back to fussing over the wire cage. He sounded pleased for the first time in the conversation. “I’ve had Maddy riding Hyslop’s ass for days, and she’ll keep right on doing it. Talk to her anytime you feel like it, but just remember one thing. She can tell you how Hyslop is spending his time — but overall she reports only to me.”

“What about your man looking into the Sky City murders? Is he making progress?”

Nick’s question came too late. Gordy did not hear him, and the image on the display was slowly losing color. The final, graying scene showed a crouching Gordy Rolfe. Beyond him a group of small shadowy forms scuttled nervously away into the dark interior of the habitat.

Nick Lopez watched until the picture vanished completely. He felt sympathy for all but one of the mammals pictured in the display.

15

From the private diary of Oliver Guest.

Seth Parsigian is amoral and self-serving, but he is not in any sense unintelligent. That he would fail to anticipate a major problem with his presence on Sky City is surprising. That I would make the same mistake is unforgivable; yet make it I did.

Let me place certain important events in proper chronological order.

With the successful test of the remote-viewing jacket and helmet, Seth had announced that he would proceed at once to Sky City. Given my psychological problem with heights and open spaces, not to mention my other responsibilities, I of course had never considered the possibility of such a trip. And humans being what we are, I had previously taken little interest in a place that seemed forever inaccessible to me.

Now that had changed. I would experience Sky City, albeit vicariously, as Seth wandered where I directed and examined whatever seemed of interest to me.

He had warned me that the flight up from Earth would not permit him to wear the RV jacket. I would see and hear nothing until he actually reached Sky City. He had informed me, however, exactly when he expected to leave Earth, and given me the expected time of arrival at the Sky City docking facility.

It may sound strange, but ten minutes before the ship was projected to reach Sky City I was already sitting in my study, the RV helmet in position. I had no idea what I might see, but I looked forward to my “arrival” at the great flying island of Sky City with the same mixture of expectation and inbred Swiftian skepticism with which Gulliver came to the flying island of Laputa. Not knowing what the first view of Sky City might offer, I was careful to retain a generous contribution of my local scene in the helmet image.

Five minutes after projected arrival time, the picture in my helmet visor flickered with an added signal. A twisting, nauseating sequence of partial walls and corridors flashed in and out, too fast to study. Fortunately the audio link was less complex, since its encryption, transmission, receipt, and decryption depended not at all on the optical system of the RV jacket. Seth’s voice sounded clear in my ear.

“We’ve arrived. Don’t take notice of the picture yet. Til I have the jacket all the way on and fastened, the processors can’t keep up and the image tends to go haywire.”

It was a little late to warn me, but I had already taken remedial action. After one whirligig moment of partial pictures I had changed the balance of remote and local viewing. “Let me know when you are ready,” I said, more to test my audio transmission circuit than from any real need to speak. Seth’s inputs formed a changing gray pattern on the static and comforting background of my own study.

“That should do it,” Seth said after another fifteen seconds. “You can start takin’ more signal from this end. Tell me how it looks.”

He had guessed that I would retreat to my local environment until the RV images were right. As I said, whatever else Seth might be, he is no fool.

I took the cue and adjusted the picture balance. I was looking at an array of circular black apertures, several dozen of them in a broad, square wall covered with a smooth iridescent layer. Scale for the whole scene was provided by a couple of human figures who came floating out from two of the holes. They wore no suits, which indicated that they and Seth were in a room with breathable air.

I briefly described what I was seeing. It was the first time, to my certain knowledge, that I had taken any interest in how a person moved in free fall. Since we were interested only in system performance I saw no reason to mention the odd balletic grace.

“Color check?” Seth’s replies seemed to take longer than in the simulated tests.

I summarized the colors that I saw for each object. At first I waited each time for Seth’s grunt of agreement, but the signal delays became a nuisance. Finally I ran rapidly through everything in sight, relying on Seth to demur if and where he chose.

“Spot on,” he said when I was done. “You’re seein’as good as me, maybe better. We’re all through check-in, so let’s take a little tour. What do you wanna look at?”

He was testing me; not for my physical tolerance of heights and open spaces, which so far as he was concerned had been dealt with on our first test of the RV system, but to see if I had done my homework.

I had. Days ago Seth had made available to me the architectural drawings and full operating system schematics of Sky City. I am blessed with a powerful short-term memory, and years of studying the con-formational properties of protein molecules had taught me to hold within my mind complex three-dimensional structures.

“Where are we now?” I asked.

“Level one, sector eighty-two. The black circles are port entry points from vacuum docking stations.”

For the first time, the signal delay was an advantage. I could take an extra fraction of a second to think before I replied, “That means we are not too far from the place on level five where Tanya Bishop’s body was found. As I recall, the route from here to there has no locks and constant air pressure all the way.”

This time it was Seth’s turn to take appreciably longer than the signal delay. At last he said, “True. But don’t expect to see anythin’ new or useful. Her body’s long gone, an’ I doubt the tank’s been used since.” He did not indicate that he was impressed by my knowledge of the local geography. He would not give me the satisfaction. But at least any fears that I might be an ignorant dead weight to be towed around Sky City would be allayed.

“I don’t expect to see anything new,” I said. “Quite the opposite. I merely wish to compare the factual data and reconstructions that you brought to me with what I see now. And, of course, I am eager to obtain a feel for the general ambience of Sky City. I do not know how or even if that will be important, but it could be.”