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Authors: Piers Anthony
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don't know my way around. I never really saw the city like this. I was unconscious or something when I—"
"I know."
"And we're stained brown, not yellow."
That was another awkward detail. "How do we tell who is real? This is much larger than Newton! There must be a thousand people here!"
"I'll recognize Pei."
"Sure. And all the men of this Oriental metropolis will just parade by the taxi so you can pick him out!"
"You don't have to be sarcastic!"
She was a fine one to talk! "Sorry," he said, not sorry.
"They're coming," she said, peering out. "The Chinese."
Catalyzed by that pressure, John came to a decision. "Canute can find the real ones. I'll run interference. You take the taxi up out of danger until we're ready."
"I don't know how to operate it!" she wailed.
John knew what she meant but had no time for sympathy. "Don't get hysterical. You don't have to operate it. Just tell it any coordinates, then tell it these ones when it's time to come back."
"I can't remember the number!"
"Here." He grabbed for a pencil to scribble the number—and came up against the empty cloth of his tunic. For an instant he was baffled; then: "Information will remember it! Just ask!"
"How do I know when it's time?"
The man shapes were coming quite near, and she was becoming hysterical. He realized she was making excuses to avoid going by herself.
"Guess!" he shouted. "Give Canute something to smell—something Pei touched. Hurry!"
Hands shaking, she obeyed. She brought out a tiny object from a little purse she had salvaged from her other clothing. "Cowrie shell," she said, holding it stiffly down for Canute. "They use them for money...."
"Canute! Find that person!"
The dog sniffed, woofed, and wagged his tail.
"Let's go!" John cried. He held the key before him and leaped through the door, Canute beside him. Too late. The yellow-colored Standards were already there: two men in ground-length, belled robes.
"Who are you?" one demanded. "Don't you know no spheres are allowed in the enclave? Suppose they saw it?"
"Go find!" John whispered to Canute, slapping him on the flank. The dog bounded off.
"Hey!" one of the challengers cried. "What's that?"
Then the taxi lifted.
As the two men stared in dismay, John slipped away.
"Hey!" the man cried again. "You, Stan!"
John ran. That was the idea: As long as they were chasing him, Canute could search the city without undue interference. Of course, John had to keep from getting caught himself, and then he would have to bring the two Chinese purebreds to the park, unobserved, and hope Betsy timed it properly—if she didn't lose her nerve entirely.
"Stop!" the man called. "You're not painted! If they see you...."
John swerved between bushes, jogged down a flowery footpath, half-crossed and half-hurdled a small decorative bridge, and ran into the city proper. The pursuers fell behind.
Suspicious, John slowed and looked back—and saw them walking nonchalantly.
Of course! They did not dare raise a loud hue and cry, because that would call attention to the "Standard" running loose in the city. If the two true Chinese took note, the whole zoo project would be in peril, particularly after the mix-up that had already introduced the Chinese boy to white American Betsy. On the other hand, the pursuers would be unlikely to give up, and more would undoubtedly close in as the word quietly spread. They might use that same knockout weapon that had put him away when he was with Ala. (Was that only yesterday?) And they were familiar with the city, whereas he was not. So he'd better lose himself quickly.
John sprinted down the street, turned a corner, and almost crashed into a roadside fruit stand. Oranges, bananas, pineapples, assorted melons, and others he didn't recognize—he was hungry! But he didn't have any money, or even cowrie shells.
"Papaws—thirty cash," the vendor began, then did a double take. "Standard! Get out of here, before—"
"I'm an inspector," John said without
"I know."
"And we're stained brown, not yellow."
That was another awkward detail. "How do we tell who is real? This is much larger than Newton! There must be a thousand people here!"
"I'll recognize Pei."
"Sure. And all the men of this Oriental metropolis will just parade by the taxi so you can pick him out!"
"You don't have to be sarcastic!"
She was a fine one to talk! "Sorry," he said, not sorry.
"They're coming," she said, peering out. "The Chinese."
Catalyzed by that pressure, John came to a decision. "Canute can find the real ones. I'll run interference. You take the taxi up out of danger until we're ready."
"I don't know how to operate it!" she wailed.
John knew what she meant but had no time for sympathy. "Don't get hysterical. You don't have to operate it. Just tell it any coordinates, then tell it these ones when it's time to come back."
"I can't remember the number!"
"Here." He grabbed for a pencil to scribble the number—and came up against the empty cloth of his tunic. For an instant he was baffled; then: "Information will remember it! Just ask!"
"How do I know when it's time?"
The man shapes were coming quite near, and she was becoming hysterical. He realized she was making excuses to avoid going by herself.
"Guess!" he shouted. "Give Canute something to smell—something Pei touched. Hurry!"
Hands shaking, she obeyed. She brought out a tiny object from a little purse she had salvaged from her other clothing. "Cowrie shell," she said, holding it stiffly down for Canute. "They use them for money...."
"Canute! Find that person!"
The dog sniffed, woofed, and wagged his tail.
"Let's go!" John cried. He held the key before him and leaped through the door, Canute beside him. Too late. The yellow-colored Standards were already there: two men in ground-length, belled robes.
"Who are you?" one demanded. "Don't you know no spheres are allowed in the enclave? Suppose they saw it?"
"Go find!" John whispered to Canute, slapping him on the flank. The dog bounded off.
"Hey!" one of the challengers cried. "What's that?"
Then the taxi lifted.
As the two men stared in dismay, John slipped away.
"Hey!" the man cried again. "You, Stan!"
John ran. That was the idea: As long as they were chasing him, Canute could search the city without undue interference. Of course, John had to keep from getting caught himself, and then he would have to bring the two Chinese purebreds to the park, unobserved, and hope Betsy timed it properly—if she didn't lose her nerve entirely.
"Stop!" the man called. "You're not painted! If they see you...."
John swerved between bushes, jogged down a flowery footpath, half-crossed and half-hurdled a small decorative bridge, and ran into the city proper. The pursuers fell behind.
Suspicious, John slowed and looked back—and saw them walking nonchalantly.
Of course! They did not dare raise a loud hue and cry, because that would call attention to the "Standard" running loose in the city. If the two true Chinese took note, the whole zoo project would be in peril, particularly after the mix-up that had already introduced the Chinese boy to white American Betsy. On the other hand, the pursuers would be unlikely to give up, and more would undoubtedly close in as the word quietly spread. They might use that same knockout weapon that had put him away when he was with Ala. (Was that only yesterday?) And they were familiar with the city, whereas he was not. So he'd better lose himself quickly.
John sprinted down the street, turned a corner, and almost crashed into a roadside fruit stand. Oranges, bananas, pineapples, assorted melons, and others he didn't recognize—he was hungry! But he didn't have any money, or even cowrie shells.
"Papaws—thirty cash," the vendor began, then did a double take. "Standard! Get out of here, before—"
"I'm an inspector," John said without
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