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Authors: Frank Herbert
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tracks -- if Fanny Mae'll send me where the game is."
"Ahhh," Furuneo said. "You could walk into a trap."
"Maybe. Fanny Mae, have you been listening?"
"Explain listening."
"Never mind!"
"But mind possesses ever!"
McKie closed his eyes, swallowed, then, "Fanny Mae, are you aware of the information exchange just concluded between my friend and myself here?"
"Explain conclu . . ."
"Are you aware?" McKie bellowed.
"Amplification contributes little to communication," the Caleban said. "I possess desired awareness -- presumably."
"Presumably," McKie muttered, then, "Can you send me to a place near Abnethe where she will not be aware of me, but where I can be aware of her?"
"Negative."
"Why not?"
"Specific injunction of contract."
"Oh." McKie bent his head in thought, then, "Well, can you send me to a place where I might become aware of Abnethe through my own efforts?"
"Possibility. Permit examination of connectives."
McKie waited. The heat was a tangible thing inside the Beachball, a solid intrusion on his senses. He saw it was already beginning to wilt Furuneo.
"I saw my mother," Furuneo said, noting McKie's attention.
"That's great," McKie said.
"She was swimming with friends when the Caleban dumped me right in the pool with them. The water was wonderful."
"They were surprised, no doubt."
"They thought it was a great joke. I wish I knew how that S'eye system works."
"You and a billion billion others. The energy requirement gives me the chills."
"I could use a chill right now. You know, that's one weird sensation -- standing one minute talking to old friends, the next instant yakking at empty air here on Cordiality. What do you suppose they think?"
"They think it's magic."
"McKie," the Caleban said, "I love you."
"You what?" McKie exploded.
"Love you," the Caleban repeated. "Affinity of one person for another person. Such affinity transcends species."
"I guess so, but . . ."
"Since I possess this universal affinity for your person, connectives open, permitting accomplishment of your request."
"You can send me to a place near Abnethe?"
"Affirmative. Accord with desire. Yes."
"Where is this place?" McKie asked.
He found, with a chill wash of air and a sprawling lurch onto dusty ground, that he was addressing his question to a moss-capped rock. For a moment he stared at the rock, regaining his balance. The rock was about a meter tall and contained small veins of yellow-white quartz with flecks of reflective brilliance scattered through them. It stood in an open meadow beneath a distant yellow sun. The sun's position told McKie he'd arrived either at midmorning or midafternoon local.
Beyond the rock, the meadow, and a ring of straggly yellow brushes stretched a flat horizon broken by the tall white spires of a city.
"Loves me?" he asked the rock.
Never underestimate the power of wishful thinking to filter what the eyes see and what the ears hear.
-The Abnethe Case, BuSab Private Files
Whip and severed Palenki arm arrived at the proper BuSab laboratory while it was temporarily unoccupied. The lab chief, a Bureau veteran named Treej Tuluk, a back-bowing Wreave, was away at the time, attending the conference which McKie's report had precipitated.
As with most back-bowers, Tuluk was an odor-id Wreave. He had an average-appearing Wreave body, two and a half meters tall, tubular, pedal bifurcation, vertical face slit with manipulative extensors dangling from the lower corner. From long association with humans and humanoids he had developed a brisk, slouching gait, a predilection for clothing with pockets, and un-Wreavish speech mannerisms of a cynical tone. The four eye tubes protruding from the top of his facial slit were green and mild.
Returning from the conference, he recognized the objects on his lab floor immediately. They matched Siker's description. Tuluk complained to himself briefly about the careless manner of delivery and was soon lost in
"Ahhh," Furuneo said. "You could walk into a trap."
"Maybe. Fanny Mae, have you been listening?"
"Explain listening."
"Never mind!"
"But mind possesses ever!"
McKie closed his eyes, swallowed, then, "Fanny Mae, are you aware of the information exchange just concluded between my friend and myself here?"
"Explain conclu . . ."
"Are you aware?" McKie bellowed.
"Amplification contributes little to communication," the Caleban said. "I possess desired awareness -- presumably."
"Presumably," McKie muttered, then, "Can you send me to a place near Abnethe where she will not be aware of me, but where I can be aware of her?"
"Negative."
"Why not?"
"Specific injunction of contract."
"Oh." McKie bent his head in thought, then, "Well, can you send me to a place where I might become aware of Abnethe through my own efforts?"
"Possibility. Permit examination of connectives."
McKie waited. The heat was a tangible thing inside the Beachball, a solid intrusion on his senses. He saw it was already beginning to wilt Furuneo.
"I saw my mother," Furuneo said, noting McKie's attention.
"That's great," McKie said.
"She was swimming with friends when the Caleban dumped me right in the pool with them. The water was wonderful."
"They were surprised, no doubt."
"They thought it was a great joke. I wish I knew how that S'eye system works."
"You and a billion billion others. The energy requirement gives me the chills."
"I could use a chill right now. You know, that's one weird sensation -- standing one minute talking to old friends, the next instant yakking at empty air here on Cordiality. What do you suppose they think?"
"They think it's magic."
"McKie," the Caleban said, "I love you."
"You what?" McKie exploded.
"Love you," the Caleban repeated. "Affinity of one person for another person. Such affinity transcends species."
"I guess so, but . . ."
"Since I possess this universal affinity for your person, connectives open, permitting accomplishment of your request."
"You can send me to a place near Abnethe?"
"Affirmative. Accord with desire. Yes."
"Where is this place?" McKie asked.
He found, with a chill wash of air and a sprawling lurch onto dusty ground, that he was addressing his question to a moss-capped rock. For a moment he stared at the rock, regaining his balance. The rock was about a meter tall and contained small veins of yellow-white quartz with flecks of reflective brilliance scattered through them. It stood in an open meadow beneath a distant yellow sun. The sun's position told McKie he'd arrived either at midmorning or midafternoon local.
Beyond the rock, the meadow, and a ring of straggly yellow brushes stretched a flat horizon broken by the tall white spires of a city.
"Loves me?" he asked the rock.
Never underestimate the power of wishful thinking to filter what the eyes see and what the ears hear.
-The Abnethe Case, BuSab Private Files
Whip and severed Palenki arm arrived at the proper BuSab laboratory while it was temporarily unoccupied. The lab chief, a Bureau veteran named Treej Tuluk, a back-bowing Wreave, was away at the time, attending the conference which McKie's report had precipitated.
As with most back-bowers, Tuluk was an odor-id Wreave. He had an average-appearing Wreave body, two and a half meters tall, tubular, pedal bifurcation, vertical face slit with manipulative extensors dangling from the lower corner. From long association with humans and humanoids he had developed a brisk, slouching gait, a predilection for clothing with pockets, and un-Wreavish speech mannerisms of a cynical tone. The four eye tubes protruding from the top of his facial slit were green and mild.
Returning from the conference, he recognized the objects on his lab floor immediately. They matched Siker's description. Tuluk complained to himself briefly about the careless manner of delivery and was soon lost in
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