Starplex

Glass dipped his head. "I do not remember Clarissa. I do not remember her at all. I have no idea what happened to her. If she, too, became an immortal, then perhaps she still exists, and perhaps I can find her.

I have loved a thousand other humans over the years; a paltry number by many people's standards, but sufficient for me. But there is no doubt that Rissa must have been very, very special to us; that's apparent in the way you speak of her."

Glass paused, and Keith had the eerie feeling that eyes — invisible in that smooth transparent egg of a head — were seeking out his own, seeking the truth behind them. "I can read you, Keith. When you told me earlier to move along, to pick another topic, it was obvious what you were hiding, what you have been contemplating." A beat of silence; even the forest simulacrum around them held its peace. "Don't hurt her, Keith. You will only hurt yourself."

"That's the advice?" asked Keith.

Glass lifted his shoulders slightly. "That's it."

Keith was quiet for a time. Then: "How will I remember that? You said you were going to wipe my memories of this meeting."

"I will leave that thought intact. You will indeed have no memory of me, and you'll just think it came from yourself — which, of course, it did, in a way."

Keith thought for a time about what the appropriate reply was.

Finally, he said, "Thank you."

Glass nodded. And then, sadly, he said, "It's time for you to go."

There was an awkward moment during which they stood and looked at each other. Keith started to extend his hand, but then let it drop to his side. Then, after a second of hesitation, he surged forward, and hugged Glass. To his astonishment, the transparent man felt soft and warm. The embrace lasted only a few seconds.

"Perhaps someday we'll meet again," said Keith, taking a step back now. "If you ever feel like popping through to the twenty-first century for a visit…"

"Perhaps I will. We are about to start something very, very big here. I told you at the outset that the fate of the universe is in question, and I — meaning you, too, of course — have a key role to play in that. I gave up being a sociologist ages ago. As you might guess, I've had thousands of careers over the millennia, and now I'm a — a physicist, you might call it. My new work will eventually necessitate a trip to the past."

"Just remember our full name, for God's sake," said Keith. "I'm listed in the Commonwealth directory, but you'll never find me again if you forget."

"No," said Glass. "This time I promise I will not forget you, or the parts of our past you have shared with me." He paused. "Good-bye, my friend."

The forest simulation, along with its motionless sun, daytime moon, and four-leaf lucky clovers, melted away, revealing the cubic interior of the docking bay. Keith started walking toward his travel pod.

Glass stood motionless in the bay as it opened to space.

More magic; he needed no space suit. Keith touched a key, and his pod moved out into the night, the six-fingered pink nebula that had once been Sol staining the sky on his left, the robin's-egg-blue dragon receding behind him. He flew the pod toward the invisible point of the shortcut, and as he made contact, he felt a faint itching inside his skull. He had just been thinking about — about something…

It was gone now, whatever it had been.

Oh, well. The ring of Soderstrom radiation passed over the pod from bow to stern, and Keith's view was filled with the sky of Tau Ceti, Grand Central Station visible off to his right, looking odd in the dim red light from the newly arrived dwarf star. As he always did when he came here, Keith amused himself for a few seconds finding Boetes, then locating Sol.

He nodded once and smiled. Always good to know that the old girl hadn't gone nova…

Chapter XXIII

Keith had always thought Grand Central Station looked like four dinner plates arranged in a square, but today, for some reason, it reminded him of a four-leaf clover floating against the stars. Each of the leaves or plates was a kilometer in diameter and eighty meters thick, making the station the largest manufactured structure in Commonwealth space.

Like Starplex's own much-smaller central disk, the outward facing edges of the plates were studded with docking-bay doors, many of them bearing the logos of Earth-based trading corporations. The computer aboard Keith's travel pod received docking instructions from Grand Central's traffic controller, and flew him in toward a docking ring adjacent to a large corrugated space door bearing the yellow-script symbol of the Hudson's Bay Company, now in its fifth century of operation.

Keith looked around through the travel pod's transparent hull. Dead ships were floating across the sky. Tugs were arriving at the docking bays hauling wreckage. One of the station's four plates was completely dark, as if it had taken a major hit during the battle.

Once his pod was secured, Keith exited into the station.