messages.”
She nodded.
“Very nice messages they were,” he said. “Would you like some tea?”
She said, “Oh, I think not. I mean, not here, anyway. I came to see if you’d like to come to my place for dinner.”
“Yes!”
She laughed. “You are such an impetuous man, Charles. Is that why they call you the kamikaze people? I mean, your century and all.”
“As to that, Adne, I don’t know,” he said. “Because, when you come right down to it, I don’t know who calls me what. I am, you might say, confused. One of the many reasons why I am pleased to see you is that I need somebody to talk to.”
She leaned back in her chair, smiling, and said she would take some tea, after all. It came without being asked for; apparently the joymaker had monitored their conversation and drawn the inferences any good waiter would draw. She threw back her filmy, puffy wrap—it had floated around her shoulders like a cloud, but now it lay back against the chair quite inconspicuously, Forrester noticed—to reveal a deep-cut, tight-fitting, flesh-colored vest or jerkin of some sort, which was startling at first glance.
At the second, it was still startling.
She said, “Dear Charles. Don’t you ask your joymaker things?”
“I would, except I don’t know what to ask.”
“Oh, anything! What do you want? Have you filed an interests profile?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, do! Then it will tell you what programs are on, what parties you will be welcomed at, who you would wish to know. It’s terrible to go on impulse, Charles,” she said earnestly. “Let the joymaker help you.’’
He discovered that his own teacup had been replenished and he took a sip. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You mean I should let the joymaker decide what I’m going to do for fun?”
“Of course. There’s so much. How could you know what you would like?”
He shook his head. . . .
But that was all of that conversation, all for then. His joymaker said suddenly, its voice curiously tinny, “Priority urgent! This is a drill! Take cover! Take cover! Take cover!”
“Oh, dear,” said Adne, pouting. “Well, let’s go.”
“Take cover!” blared the joymaker again, and Forrester discovered the reason for its metallic sound. Not only his but the girl’s, those of patrons at other tables, all the joymakers at once were repeating the same message. “Take cover! Countdown starts now! One hundred seconds. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight.”
“Where are you going?” Forrester asked, rising with her.
“To the shelter, of course! Hurry it up, Charles, will you? I hate it when I’m out in a public place in one of these things.”
“. . . Ninety-one. Ninety. Eighty-nine. . . .”
He asked, swallowing hard. “Air raid? A war?”
She held his hand and was tugging him along toward an exit at the rear of the tea room, through which the other patrons were already beginning to stream out. “Not exactly, Charles dear. Don’t you know anything?”
“Then what?”
“Aliens. Monsters. That’s all. Now, hurry, or we’ll never get a seat.”
Five
A walk, an elevator ride, a short stretch through a light-walled corridor, and they came out into a great shadowy auditorium. There was just enough light to find their way to seats. It was filling rapidly, and behind them Forrester heard heavy doors slamming.
When about three quarters of the seats were filled, a man in black climbed onto the stage and said, “Thank you all for your cooperation. I’m pleased to be able to tell you that this building has achieved four-nines compliance in exactly one hundred and forty-one seconds.”
There was a stir of interest from the audience. Forrester craned his neck to find the source of the PA system— it seemed to murmur from all over the hall—and located it at last as the man spoke again. It was his joymaker, and all the joymakers, repeating what the man said.
“This is one of the best showings we’ve ever had,” he said warmly, “and I appreciate it. You may leave.”
“You mean that’s all there is to it?” Forrester asked the girl.
“That’s all. Are you coming up to my place?”
“But,” he went on, “if there’s going to be a raid, or any chance of one, shouldn’t we wait and see—”
“See what, Charles dear? There’s no need to grovel in the ground like moles. It’s just a test.”
“Yes, but—” He hesitated, and then followed her out of the auditorium thoughtfully.
It was confusing. No one had mentioned war to him.
