“Well, sit down and join me.”
“You’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I was never really mad at you. You only tried to make me happy, and you did.”
“I did?” Liebchen was delighted and scooted up on an oversized chair next to Patricia. “I didn’t think that you’d want to be my friend anymore.”
“Well, I guess we were all pretty upset when we found out about your programming experiment.” Patricia took another sip of tea. “I’ve missed you.”
“Oh, I missed you, too!” Liebchen was grinning and her tail was wagging furiously. “I was afraid that you’d never want to see me again!”
“Well, we’re friends again, Liebchen.” Patricia poured herself another cup of tea. “How’s Martin?”
“He’s fine.” Liebchen’s tail stopped wagging.
“Is he happy?”
“He’s… happier than he was, but not as happy as he used to be. With you, I mean.”
“I’d like to see him again,” Patricia said seriously.
“He’d like to see you, I think.”
“Is he here?”
Liebchen thought a second. “Here” could mean any territorial subdivision that the speaker was in. This house, this continent, this city. Liebchen decided that the proper context was “this room” and said, “No.”
“Liebchen?” Patricia stared at the table. “—I haven’t been celibate since… that night. I’ve had a lot of guys. But I never wanted to see any of them the next day. Do you understand what I mean?”
Liebchen, of course, didn’t understand at all. But she said, “You found them to be unsuitable, my lady?”
“Sort of. You see, the four months I had with Martin were the happiest months in my life. You gave them to me. You helped take it away. Can I have it back? Please?”
“I… don’t know what you mean, my lady.”
“I mean, make me some more of that pink stuff.”
“I don’t think I can. I mean I’m not allowed.” It was hard for Liebchen to deny any request.
“But wasn’t that because you did it without my permission?”
“I don’t know! Lord Guibedo talked for a long while about how it took four billion years to make people and it was wrong to change them. I didn’t understand it all, but I promised not to do it again.” Liebchen wasn’t sure what was right.
“I’m sure he meant ‘without permission.’ Can’t you just make me some and not tell anybody about it?” Patricia pleaded. “I can keep a secret. You could make me some right now, and my unhappiness would all be over.”
“Well, I couldn’t do it here, my lady.” Liebchen couldn’t face Patricia. “This isn’t my tree house. I couldn’t work the synthesizer.”
“Well, how about Colleen or Ohura?”
“They don’t know how.”
Much to Liebchen’s relief, Mona walked in just then. “Morning, Patty. Liebchen, Colleen was asking about you.”
Liebchen scurried out, happy to leave an awkward situation.
“Well, you did sleep till noon,” Patricia said.
“And I feel great! Let’s go see how the valley is doing.”
“You haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“We can catch a bite at Mama Guilespe’s.”
They wandered through the valley, winding their way through the people.
“It’s so crowded,” Patricia complained. “It’s as bad as Manhattan Island was.”
“‘As bad as,’ huh. It’s good to see you developing some taste. The telephone says that the population of Life Valley is now over ten million, and the valley was only designed to hold two-hundred-fifty thousand. It’ll be five months before the population density gets down to something reasonable again.”
“Look at that! The mountains are green!”
“Tree houses,” Mona said. “Heinrich has forbidden any tree houses to crowd out the Sequoias, but it’s solid tree houses growing right up to them. And they’re solid all the way to Lake Mead. Once they’re mature, it’ll take the pressure off of us here. I just hope that while the refugees are here, they pick up some of our life style.”
Patricia had adopted Mona’s daytime clothing style, topless with a sarong wrapped around her hips, but most of the people crowding around them were wearing conventional “store-bought” clothes.
“I wish they wouldn’t stare at us,” Patricia said.
“Think of it as a compliment, Patty. It’s part of a reeducation process for them. They don’t understand what individual freedom really means yet.”
“Well, couldn’t we just print up pamphlets or something?”
“We don’t have the printing facilities, and anyway, it wouldn’t work. You have to sort of absorb a life style through your skin.”
“Well, first chance I get, I’m going to cover a lot of mine up.”
“Don’t you dare!” Mona laughed. “We had a beautiful culture growing here, and it’s in serious danger of being diluted. All of the long-time residents are working hard to preserve it, and we need your help.”
“What do you mean, ‘all’? That bunch of individualists wouldn’t all agree on anything.”
“But they did. They took a vote on it when we were on the road,” Mona said.
“Vote? How?”
“The telephone, of course.”
Mama Guilespe’s cafe had quadrupled in size, pouring out into the park. There was something of a waiting line. After some determined wheedling, Mona finally got close enough to Mama Guilespe to attract her attention.
“Eh! Mona! You don’t come for two months.” Mama Guilespe bustled over to them wearing her usual Italian peasant costume, an oversize coffeepot in her chubby fist. “Come on, I got a table saved for you two.”
“But all these other people were ahead of us,” Patricia protested as Mama Guilespe pulled her by the elbow through the crowd.
“People, schmeeple!” The girls were pushed bodily to an empty table. “We got so many people I had to hire five of my countrywomen to help out.”
“Hire?” Patricia asked as steaming mugs of coffee appeared before them. “How?”
“But these I made myself for you.” Mama Guilespe was already heaping pastry in front of them. “You still got a boyfriend, Patty?”
“No, but…”
“Good. Such a nice boy I want you should meet. Don’t go away.” Mama Guilespe bustled off.
“About this individual-freedom thing you were talking about,” Patricia said.
“Of course!” Mona laughed. “You’re perfectly free to argue with Mama Guilespe all you want.”
“How, for God’s sake?”
“Well, if you’re incapable of holding up your side of a conversation—”
“Go to hell, Mona. The last thing I need right now is another brainless muscle boy.”
“Then you better get your track shoes on. Here she comes again.”
Patricia cringed as Mama Guilespe hauled over a mildly protesting man.
“Such a pretty girl I find for you!” Mama Guilespe set a third cup of coffee on the table.
“I’m… sorry if I’ve caused you an inconvenience,” he said haltingly. He was tall, perhaps six one, with black hair graying at the temples.
“What inconvenience?” Mama Guilespe forced him into a chair. “Now you talk nice to these girls.” She bustled away.
“I’m afraid it’s a little difficult to make such headway against Mama Guilespe.” He had a neat mustache and incredibly clear blue eyes.
“I know what you mean,” Patricia said. It was nice to find someone who felt as awkward as she did. “It’s sometimes difficult to demonstrate one’s individuality.”
“You’re so right, especially around Mama Guilespe.” He wore a tan T-shirt and slacks that showed off a
