liquid nourishment. How about some real food?"
With a grin, Jeff nodded. "I'm starving," he realized.
Amanda laughed. "Next stop, Amanda's gourmet kitchen."
Carbo stood by the instrument panel, watching them wordlessly as Amanda walked Jeff out of the laboratory, her arm around his shoulders.
For long moments he stared at the door after it closed behind them. Then with a tight-lipped scowl on his swarthy face, he went back to reviewing the data from the day's work.
CHAPTER 6
Jeff had never seen the quarters of a member of the technical staff. They were all housed in a dome on the opposite side of the Village from the domes of the students.
Amanda's apartment started with a spacious living room, furnished with big viewscreens and comfortable sofas, carpets scattered across the plastic flooring and tapestries hung on the walls, all in the slashing bold yellows and ochres and rich browns of her native Congo.
Then there was the kitchen, not much bigger than a short, wide aisle crammed with gadgetry on either side. But it was all for her and her alone. No one shared it. And just the dining area between the kitchen and the living room was almost as big as Jeff's dorm room.
"Bathroom's down the hall," Amanda said with a wave of her hand.
Jeff took the hint and went off to wash up. He passed the open door of her bedroom and saw that it was dominated by a large bed, rumpled and unmade, a zebra patterned coverlet lying carelessly halfway over a corner of it, halfway on the floor.
Jeff hesitated a moment at the bedroom doorway, his mind suddenly filled with pictures of Amanda on that bed, her dark skin shining against the white sheets.
He shook his head to drive such thoughts from his mind and stepped resolutely into the bathroom. He splashed plenty of cold water on his face before returning to the kitchen.
"The place is in a mess, I'm sorry," Amanda was saying as she pulled foil-covered trays from racks built into the kitchen wall and popped them into the microwave oven. "You've been keeping us pretty busy, you know."
Jeff did not answer. He watched her, noticing for the first time how her white medical uniform both concealed and revealed her trim feminine figure.
The wall phone buzzed.
"Answer phone," Amanda sang out.
The ten-centimeter picture screen above the phone's speaker grill fluttered momentarily, then formed an image of Bishop Foy. He looked even grimmer than usual.
"Dr. Kolwezi, is Jeffrey Holman there with you?"
Amanda's eyes darted toward Jeff, then back to the screen. "Yes, he is," she answered. A little guiltily, Jeff thought.
"I want to see you both in my office," Foy said, in his scratchy thin voice. "At once!"
"But Bishop Foy . . ."
"At once!" The screen went blank.
Amanda carefully pressed the phone's OFF button, making certain that neither sound nor picture could be transmitted, before she muttered, "Someday I'm going to spit in that man's face."
Jeff felt shocked. Foy was a pain, of course, but he was a Bishop . He wielded authority, and a Believer never argued against authority, no matter how he felt inwardly.
Still muttering angrily to herself, Amanda flicked the switch that turned off the oven and headed for the door, not even glancing behind her to see if Jeff was following.
Amanda Kolwezi was the only black woman in the class of one hundred fifty-four at the University of London. She was the only black and the only woman to receive both an M.D. and Ph.D. simultaneously. But the day of her graduation was not a happy one. She had received an official telegram the evening before, from the government in Congo, that her brother had been killed by government troops in an anti-guerrilla battle in some obscure dusty little town in the nation's southernmost, poorest province.
Amanda went through the long, tedious graduation ceremony alone. Her fellow students, many of them the closest friends she had in the world, thought that she looked very haughty and aloof on graduation day.
"Has it
With a grin, Jeff nodded. "I'm starving," he realized.
Amanda laughed. "Next stop, Amanda's gourmet kitchen."
Carbo stood by the instrument panel, watching them wordlessly as Amanda walked Jeff out of the laboratory, her arm around his shoulders.
For long moments he stared at the door after it closed behind them. Then with a tight-lipped scowl on his swarthy face, he went back to reviewing the data from the day's work.
CHAPTER 6
Jeff had never seen the quarters of a member of the technical staff. They were all housed in a dome on the opposite side of the Village from the domes of the students.
Amanda's apartment started with a spacious living room, furnished with big viewscreens and comfortable sofas, carpets scattered across the plastic flooring and tapestries hung on the walls, all in the slashing bold yellows and ochres and rich browns of her native Congo.
Then there was the kitchen, not much bigger than a short, wide aisle crammed with gadgetry on either side. But it was all for her and her alone. No one shared it. And just the dining area between the kitchen and the living room was almost as big as Jeff's dorm room.
"Bathroom's down the hall," Amanda said with a wave of her hand.
Jeff took the hint and went off to wash up. He passed the open door of her bedroom and saw that it was dominated by a large bed, rumpled and unmade, a zebra patterned coverlet lying carelessly halfway over a corner of it, halfway on the floor.
Jeff hesitated a moment at the bedroom doorway, his mind suddenly filled with pictures of Amanda on that bed, her dark skin shining against the white sheets.
He shook his head to drive such thoughts from his mind and stepped resolutely into the bathroom. He splashed plenty of cold water on his face before returning to the kitchen.
"The place is in a mess, I'm sorry," Amanda was saying as she pulled foil-covered trays from racks built into the kitchen wall and popped them into the microwave oven. "You've been keeping us pretty busy, you know."
Jeff did not answer. He watched her, noticing for the first time how her white medical uniform both concealed and revealed her trim feminine figure.
The wall phone buzzed.
"Answer phone," Amanda sang out.
The ten-centimeter picture screen above the phone's speaker grill fluttered momentarily, then formed an image of Bishop Foy. He looked even grimmer than usual.
"Dr. Kolwezi, is Jeffrey Holman there with you?"
Amanda's eyes darted toward Jeff, then back to the screen. "Yes, he is," she answered. A little guiltily, Jeff thought.
"I want to see you both in my office," Foy said, in his scratchy thin voice. "At once!"
"But Bishop Foy . . ."
"At once!" The screen went blank.
Amanda carefully pressed the phone's OFF button, making certain that neither sound nor picture could be transmitted, before she muttered, "Someday I'm going to spit in that man's face."
Jeff felt shocked. Foy was a pain, of course, but he was a Bishop . He wielded authority, and a Believer never argued against authority, no matter how he felt inwardly.
Still muttering angrily to herself, Amanda flicked the switch that turned off the oven and headed for the door, not even glancing behind her to see if Jeff was following.
Amanda Kolwezi was the only black woman in the class of one hundred fifty-four at the University of London. She was the only black and the only woman to receive both an M.D. and Ph.D. simultaneously. But the day of her graduation was not a happy one. She had received an official telegram the evening before, from the government in Congo, that her brother had been killed by government troops in an anti-guerrilla battle in some obscure dusty little town in the nation's southernmost, poorest province.
Amanda went through the long, tedious graduation ceremony alone. Her fellow students, many of them the closest friends she had in the world, thought that she looked very haughty and aloof on graduation day.
"Has it
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