Phaze Doubt

“I think that’s as complicated as I can assimilate,” Lysander said ruefully. He glanced around the large chamber. Sure enough, only the clothed parties were being challenged; the naked ones were ignored. “So you believe that Citizen Blue might employ me, if he has use for my abilities?”

“He sure might!” she said enthusiastically. “I can ask him for you!”

“Is this normal procedure? I understand that I should register for employment, and that if I did not obtain it within three days I would be summarily dismissed from the planet. I admit this is a concern.”

“You register, but Blue will ask for you, if I ask him, maybe,” she said.

“In that case, by all means ask him,” Lysander agreed.

“Oh, this is working out so well!” she said, taking his hand and holding it as they walked side by side.

Lysander was coming to understand better why Alyc’s liaisons tended to be brief. She was quite open, and perhaps possessive, offering her wares too rapidly, so that her store was quickly exhausted. But this was extremely convenient now. He had received instruction in the laboratory, but had no direct experience, so her forward attitude enabled him to learn quickly without a great risk of error.

She brought him to a registration desk at the spaceport. “Check in here, and they’ll give you a three-day permit,” she explained. “Then I’ll take you to Blue.”

He approached the desk. “May I register for employment?”

The naked woman behind the desk glanced at him, bored. “Name and planet of origin?”

“Lysander of Grenadier.”

She glanced at a terminal screen. “Right. Android. Your specialties are games and computer circuitry. Put your eyes to the window.”

She had a detail wrong, but it seemed expedient to let it pass. He was trained in robotic feedback circuitry, which related to programming rather than hardware.

There was a panel with a scanning window. He put his face to it, knowing that the scanner would record his retinal patterns and match them to those of his listed identity. Such identification could be counterfeited only by the replacement of the eyeballs, which was more trouble than the average intruder would care to undertake. Androids were standardized in many respects, including the immune system, so they could take eyeball transplants more readily than full humans could. But all android retinal patterns were registered, so unless the paperwork was in order, a transplant was useless for any purpose other than correcting a defect in vision.

“Are you familiar with local protocol?” the woman asked as he stepped away from the window. The scan had checked, of course.

“I believe so. I go naked, address every Citizen as sir, and do what I’m told.”

“There are details. Are you aware, for example, that magic is operative here?”

“Prestidigitation is a game skill I have developed. It will be interesting to compare local techniques.”

The woman’s mouth turned wry. “This is more than that. Perhaps you should take the indoctrination course.”

“I’m helping him,” Alyc put in. “I’m Alyc, employee of Citizen Blue. May I call the Citizen now?”

“If you wish.” The woman turned a videophone screen toward her.

“Alyc calling Citizen Blue,” she said to the screen.

The clerk’s eyebrow elevated. “You expect him to answer you direct?”

A woman’s face appeared on the screen. Her eyes were green and her hair brown, fading to bleached strands at her shoulders. The lines about her face and neck indicated that she was no young, but she remained beautiful. “You’re back, Alyc!” she said with evident pleasure. “Was it a good trip?”

“Yes, Sheen. But funny wearing clothes. I’m glad to be back Could—could I talk to the Citizen, please?”

The clerk made a tiny shake of her head at this audacity. I was obvious that smart serfs did not push their luck like this.

A man’s face came on the screen. There was no question o his age; he was at least in his fifties, but his eyes were alert The collar of a shirt was visible at the base of the picture; hi was clothed, therefore a Citizen. “Yes, Alyc.”

The clerk’s jaw dropped slightly. She turned away.

“Sir, I met a man on the ship back, and maybe you could hire him.”

The Citizen’s countenance quirked in what was becoming o< Lysander a familiar expression in those who spoke to Alyc: that one assumed when dealing with a child or harmless animal that had intruded on the carpet. “Perhaps. Who is he?”

“Lysander. He knows about computers and games, though—“

“He is present?”

“Right here, sir,” she said eagerly, moving aside so that the Citizen could look at Lysander.

Blue nodded. “No promise, Alyc. But bring him here.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” she exclaimed, actually jumping in he excitement. But the Citizen’s glance at Lysander, as the image faded on the screen, was disconcertingly sharp. This was going to be far more chancy than the registration had been!