“Either will do, my dear,” Dorn Horsten told her. “See here, how do you mean there are no officials? We came to initiate negotiations in view of your request to join United Planets. With whom do we deal?”
“A committee has been elected to meet you personally, Doctor Horsten.”
Ronny said, “Wizard. Uh, where’s the committee and how do you mean personally? How else could they meet us?”
She tinkled a laugh that all but had the Section G agents swooning. “We very seldom conduct affairs personally, Citizen Bronston. The time involved in journeying about for such reasons is ridiculous. We perform business and even most of our personal relationships by Tri-Di phone screen. Certainly this applies on such advanced planets as Earth, and, say, Phrygia and Avalon.”
“Phrygia we no longer have with us,” Ronny told her. “But yes, a good deal of business is transacted by TV phone these days. Why travel half way around the world to make a short-time contact?”
“Certainly,” she said winningly. “But the committee is to meet you in person tomorrow. They will journey from their respective homes.”
Ronny assimilated that. He said, not knowing exactly why, “All right. But why were you—I have no objections, of course—chosen to meet us?”
“Because I’m stupid,” she said brightly, flashing an equally bright smile at him.
They had reached the edge of the pavement and were darting over the fabulous lawn and rolling grounds of the area that surrounded it. Suddenly they were confronted by an entry into a hillside that formerly hadn’t been visible. She entered without slowing and sighed and flicked off a switch.
“I dislike driving manually,” she said.
They were in an underground highway. There wasn’t a great deal of other traffic. The other vehicles they did see were sometimes occupied, more often not. It wasn’t as different as all that. Ronny and Dorn had been on other worlds, including Earth, that had highly automated underground highways. However, none of them were superior to this.
Ronny said carefully, “How do you mean, stupid? You’re unhappy about taking the assignment?”
She looked at him in distress. “Oh, no, no. I applied for it. It’s quite the most fascinating, uh, job, I’ve ever been able to land. I meant it literally. I’m stupid.”
Horsten caught on first. The big doctor said, “You mean… you were chosen to communicate with us because you have a, forgive me, low intelligence?”
“Yes,” she said. “Now in a few minutes we’ll arrive at the quarters where you are to stay.”
She looked at Doctor Horsten. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not an idiot. I’m just slow. As you said, forgive me, but they thought communication would be easier.”
It was Dorn Horsten this time who closed his eyes in sorrow. In his time… well… in his time he had been accepted… well… in his time…
They emerged from the underground highway and again were in what seemed to be an overgrown park.
Rosemary took over the controls and said, “Why does everybody want to be smart?”
Ronny looked at her. “I don’t know. Why?”
“It wasn’t a rhetorical question. I meant it. I can see in primitive times, when it was a matter of survival and so forth, that a person had to be either smarter than the next, or stronger. But who cares about those things now? Look at Doctor Horsten. He’s big and, I assume, strong. But who cares if anybody is big or small any more? These are no longer the days of the Vikings. Why should anybody wish to be any larger than, say, a Japanese?”
“Damned if I know,” Dorn Horsten muttered. “Often, it’s a disadvantage. Half the beds that I try to get into in hotels are too small for me.”
The vehicle rounded a hill and suddenly there was an entry. It was artfully framed in bougainvillaea of two different colors. It should have looked garish, but didn’t. It was gorgeous. The entry was only a few meters deep and they emerged into a patio, open to the sky, graced by a fountain in its center.
“Here we are,” Rosemary said cheerfully.
The two visitors looked up and about. There were various doors and windows built into what they had taken from outside to be a hill covered with grass, bushes and small trees.
“It’s an underground house!” Ronny blurted.
“Yes, of course,” she said, beginning to leave the vehicle.
Ronny sat there for a moment. He said, “Back there at the spaceport. All of the administration buildings, freight depots, that sort of thing, were also underground?”
“Yes, that’s right. Few buildings are really attractive, especially those dealing with necessary production, distribution, communications and so on. So we place them out of sight where they won’t interfere with nature’s beauties. There are other advantages as well. They are easier to heat in the winter, or cool in summer.”
The two men got out and looked about them for a moment. The patio was beautifully done, almost tropically lush with flowers and ferns.
Doctor Horsten said in appreciation, “Your gardener is to be congratulated.”
“Gardener? I have no gardener. Can you gentlemen bring your bags?”
She led the way to two adjoining rooms, saying, “All rooms lead out on the garden. This will be yours, Doctor, and this yours, Citizen Bronston. Over here is the living room. I’ll await you there.”
Ronny entered his room, which amounted to a small suite; a bedroom, a bath, a small sitting room. It was very finely done but obviously with comfort in mind, not luxury. The furniture -was functional, rather than pretty. He appreciated the single painting on the wall. It was in the Chinese tradition. The only other decorative bit was a vase which was either a Mexican pre-Columbian antique or a very good copy. Simplicity was highly regarded on Einstein, he decided. Or, at least, it was in this house.
He left his two bags and went out into the patio again, just as Dorn Horsten emerged from his own suite. They headed for the living room.
Rosemary was sitting on a sofa which faced on a very large window; so large, indeed, that it covered almost a full wall. Ronny, orienting himself, realized that it must be on the opposite side of the hill from where they had entered. There was a spectacular vista beyond. Most certainly they hadn’t seen the window as they approached. This room carried out the theme of the suites—simple and ultra-comfortable. Art was held to a minimum, but what there was, was superlative.
Rosemary came to her feet, smiling. She said, “Your quarters are adequate?”
“Charming,” the doctor told her, bowing slightly in thanks.
“Wizard,” Ronny said. “I’d like to steal that Chinese painting of the fog-bound mountain.”
“It’s yours,” she said.
“Oh, really, I didn’t mean… ”
“But, of course. I’m so pleased that you appreicate a product of my humble efforts. And now, would you gentlemen like a drink?”
“Your humble efforts?” Ronny said, staring at her. “Do you mean you did that? I thought it came from Earth, or, at least, one of the Chinese-settled planets.”
“Oh, no. All of us here on Einstein participate in at least one of the arts. Could I offer a light wine, or perhaps beer? It’s warm today.”
Dorn Horsten cleared his throat and said, “See here, my dear. How do you mean, all of you participate in at least one of the arts? Suppose someone has no talent. Is
She laughed, as though in deprecation. “We are not happy about that term
Ronny said, “About that drink. I was told you didn’t drink alcohol on Einstein. Or even coffee, for that matter, on the grounds that it’s bad for the health.”
She went over to a beautifully worked piece of wooden furniture and opened two of its doors to emerge with glasses and a long, thin, green bottle, obviously chill. “Nonsense,” she said. “Alcohol is a blessing come down from
