Cretaceous Sea

Con, encouraged that the woman had answered a ques-tion, pressed her for more information. 'You said you would tell me about Rick.'

'When we are satisfied with your responses.'

'I've answered all your questions. Why won't you tell me anything?'

'We are doing what is necessary.'

'Can't you tell me if he's all right? At least do that.'

'What is the reason for your persistence in this mat-ter?' asked the woman. 'Are you mating?' Con was insulted. 'How is that your concern?'

'I study Homo sapiens.'

' Homo sapiens? Why not say 'people'?' retorted Con.

'As a paleontologist, I prefer precise terms.'

'Then you should say you're an 'anthropologist.' That's the correct word.'

'No,' said the woman evenly, 'I used the proper term. I study extinct species. We are Homo perfectus.' The woman's matter-of-fact comment belittled Con more than any insult. Con grasped the gulf between them as the word 'subhuman,' with all its implications, sprang to her mind. Con's assertiveness transformed to unease and, for a moment, she was speechless. When she spoke again, it was in a less confident tone. 'Please tell me about Rick.'

'You still have not explained the reason for your in-terest.'

'It's because . . .'

'Because what?'

'Because we're in love.' ?

'That is another term for which I have no definition.'

'It's an emotion,' said Con. 'I guess you could say it has something to do ... to do with mating.' The woman looked intrigued, but said, 'After more sat-isfactory sessions, we may allow you contact with him.'

'Then he's alive?'

'Yes,' said the woman. 'I will tell you that.'

'Thank you,' said Con joyfully. 'Thank you!'

The woman watched Con's reaction with apparent in-terest, but she did not respond to it. Instead, she pointed to the cube lying on the bed. 'There is sufficient nutrition for your accelerated physiology.' After saying that, she left the room. Although she did not turn her back on Con, she no longer pointed the weapon at her. Con thought, / guess that's progress.

As soon as the woman departed, Con bubbled over with excitement. 'Rick's alive!' she shouted. 'He's alive!' She happily danced about the sandy room, then whirled until she dropped dizzily on the bed. She felt hungry and pulled a corner off the cube the woman had left. It had a texture that was a cross between gelatin and cheese and tasted like unsweetened fruit punch. It was not unpleasant, and it was very filling. Con ate only a small portion of the cube before her hunger was satisfied.

She returned to cleaning the room, trying to expend some of her energy. As she worked, she pondered how she could hasten the time when she could see Rick. The woman said I'd see Rick after 'more satisfactory ses-sions.' The ambiguity of that phrase worried her. Did she mean more sessions as satisfactory as the last one? If that were the case, Con wondered how many more inter-rogations she must endure. Or did she mean the last ses-sion was unsatisfactory? That also seemed plausible. They looked annoyed by the end of the questioning. Con tried to think how she might have provoked them, but she had no idea. It disturbed her that she didn't know. It dis-turbed her even more how she had lost control of her life and how her happiness was dependent on satisfying her captors. 37

THE FAINT WORLD BEYOND THE SWIRLING COLORS DARK-

ened to black, indicating it was night. Con slept and awoke to a routine of confinement that dragged on for days. Her life became one of profound loneliness, marked by bouts of anxiety and long stretches of depressed boredom. There was nothing to do once she cleaned the room and took care of the jacket. Meals consisted of eating from a grayish pink cube that was wordlessly delivered each morning. Filling the empty hours became a trial. She slept as much as possible. She took long baths. She paced for hours, tracing complex patterns through the three rooms that