on her own. His grip was strong, steadying her. He was a suit again, armored behind his smile. Solicitously, he helped her down the remaining steps.
She didn't like his cologne.
He seemed unaware of her dislike. 'You appear to be taxed by your journey. Perhaps some refreshment would restore your spirit?'
'No, thanks. I'll be fine. Besides, they served a meal on the plane only a couple of hours ago.'
'And you found it to your taste?'
He really did seem to be concerned that she be pleased. Maybe he wasn't so bad. She gave him a friendly smile, but she remembered her fangs and closed it down. 'The meal was quite tasty. My compliments to your corporate chef. I don't believe that IVe ever had meat with quite so delicate a flavor.'
Garcia's smile grew wider. 'Yes, it is a specialty. I will be sure to communicate your compliments.'
Garcia escorted her across the landing field to a waiting helicopter. They climbed aboard and made a short flight over Mexico City. Their destination was a compound on the north side of the plex. The GWN monogram that she had seen on the uniforms of Garcia's minions at the airport gleamed on the side of the eighty-story skyscraper at the center of the enclosed blocks.
Oozing charm, Garcia took her on a whirlwind tour of the facilities. GWN was an obviously successful corporation. Most of the plants were devoted to food processing and nutrient farming; labels on containerized cargo lots told her that GWN shipped worldwide. She wondered briefly what brands belonged to the firm. Comestibles weren't the corporation's only product. Several impressive structures were dedicated to information technologies and small, high-tech manufacturing plants. The combination wasn't surprising; no megacorporation could survive without at least dabbling in the Matrix and data technology. If all of this belonged to Mr. Shiroi, as Garcia implied, her benefactor was a powerful man.
They had just left a building where cheap simsense players were being assembled, and were walking through a section of employee tenements, when a telecorn box on a street corner called Garcia's name. He excused himself, leaving her to stand in the heat. OflFshift employees, who had been gathered on the front stoops to take in the afternoon sun, suddenly found business elsewhere, but not before she had seen their fearful glances in her direction. Garcia returned.
'Ah, Mr. Shiroi will see you now, if you wish. But there is no hurry. Plenty of time for you to freshen up or partake of some refreshment, if you wish.'
She shook her head. Freshening up was something for norms. Make-up on her face would be a travesty, and she didn't have a curry comb for the fur. Let Mr. Shiroi see her as she was, because that's what he got. 'You are not hungry yet?' 'No. I'm not hungry at all.' 'That is understandable. After the change one's appetites are often erratic. It is best to trust your feelings. Your body will know when you need sustenance. One should not overdo.'
Garcia took her to an elevator, holding the door open as he tapped a code into the keypad. He wished her well and stepped back, letting the doors slide shut. The car rose silently, with very little sensation of motion. After a few moments, the doors opened on a lavish office. Chill air swept into the car, cooling her comfortably. The walls were a pale, pale blue. She might have taken them for white if not for the pure alabaster of the deep pile carpet. The room was huge, but its furnishings were few, and they were dominated by the presence in one corner of a carved column. The stack of stylized faces on it stretched at least three meters; it didn't reach the ceiling yet seemed to fill the room. Two-thirds of the way across the chamber, a dark wood desk stood between her and the tinted window-wall. Behind the desk, in an oddly shaped chair, sat Mr. Shiroi.
'Ah, Janice,' he said as he noticed her. 'It is good to see you again.'
He was smiling, with pleasure she thought. Why he should do that, she didn't know. She wasn't pleasant to see. She felt awkward and out of place. 'Wish I thought so, Mr. Shiroi.' His smile faded a bit and his eyes filled with concern. 'You must learn to accept what you are, since there is no way to change it. Denial only prolongs the pain. I do not wish to see you in pain. And please, call me Dan.'
She slowly walked across the room, since that was expected. When he indicated the chair in front of the desk, she sat. She started as the soft grey upholstery shifted beneath her.
'Just relax. It will settle down,' he said. There was a hint of amusement on his face.
She didn't like being laughed at. Forcing herself to ignore the squirming chair, she waited. The cushions slowed their wriggling and finally stopped. She was surprised at how comfortable it was. She was almost as surprised that the chair seemed to fit her oversize body. Shiroi must have read her reaction on her face. 'You have just had your first experience with a Tendai-Barca Glove Lounger. They are always a little unnerving the first time, but, if you will excuse the pun, one adjusts quickly. I doubt you will find better seating anywhere in the world.'
She calmed her breathing, relaxing. The chair shifted again to accommodate her. Perhaps her anger at his amusement was out of place. Anyone feeling a chair writhe under their butt would look comical. She still wasn't comfortable mentally, though. He had had her brought halfway around the world. Surely, it wasn't all for the sake of this small joke? 'What do you want, Mr. Shiroi?' 'There is no more reason to be abrupt than there is to distrust my motives, Janice.' He took her bad manners in stride. She even thought she detected a hint of sadness behind his soft voice. 'I want to help you find yourself. I want you to accept a place in my organization. If you choose to follow your own path, I will understand, but it is my hope that you will find us congenial. It is very lonely being on your own. It could also be dangerous.'
'Trying to scare me, Mr. Shiroi?' He laughed. 'No. The outside world holds enough terrors for our kind. We need not prey upon ourselves. And I do wish that you would call me Dan.'
'Dan. You say 'our kind.' / know you and Garcia are like me, but your employees don't know it because you hide behind illusions, or whatever it is you do so that they see you as norms. Why? Why do you hide what you are?'
'Why?' he asked. All trace of his humor sank beneath an expression of seriousness. 'You should not have to ask that. You have seen yourself in the mirror, Janice. You have seen how the norms react to you. That is the answer. Do you wish to deal with the unreasoning fear all day, every day?'
Of course she didn't. Who would? She had felt the fear and hate too often when she was just an ork. Orks were common. She didn't like to think what was in store for her as a rare, more monstrous metahuman. Against that dread, her objection seemed petty.
'I don't like pretending to be something other than what I am!'
He swiveled his chair ninety degrees, presenting her with a profile. She watched his chest rise and listened as he let the air out in a long sigh.
'We all wear masks and pretend to be something other than ourselves, do we not? The norms do it. Even you did it before your change.' He swiveled back to face her, cutting her off before she could object. 'Were you not a different person with your peers than when you were with your family? How about when you dealt with your corporate superiors? Every set of people with whom we interact sees a different person, a different facet of ourselves. This magical disguise is like that, a mask of necessity. In our case, it hides the physical reality. Beneath the masks we are still ourselves. The illusion is simply necessary grease for the machine of social interaction. Nothing more. Having spent so much time in the Imperial Japanese Empire, surely you are familiar with the need to smooth relations between people.'
At the mention of Japan, she shivered. The chair shifted in response.
'I am sorry. I should not have mentioned Japan.'
He watched her for a while, saying nothing. She was glad; she didn't know what to say. He was right, of course. It still seemed.. . odd that someone could make the metaphorical masks a reality. If a magical spell could be called reality. She taxed the TendaiBarca, seeking to get into a physically comfortable position, while it was her mental state that unsettled her. He, of course, noticed.
'If you will be more comfortable, I will drop the spell. You are among friends here.'
'I don't know. I don't know what I want. It's been so confusing. I just want to get things under control.' 'I want to help you do just that. Here. Look.' He had dropped his spell. He was huge, bigger than she was. His Tendai- Barca flowed to support his increased size; panels expanded, slumped, and thickened as the chair reshaped itself to accommodate him. His fur was stark white, as pure as polar snow. The skin of his broad face and powerful hands was dark and glossy with health. Once she might have shrunk from his visage, but now she was as monstrous as he. But then, he didn't consider himself monstrous. Or did he? He hid beneath a spell. Or was that true, either? What did he see when he looked in a mirror? The smooth Oriental features of Mr. Dan Shiroi or the
