"He didn't say."

She looked at Eathen carefully, trying to decide whether he was lying. But, of course, there was really no way of knowing. And why should he lie?

The phone rang. Anna waved at Eathen, indicating he should answer it. She remained in the living room, lost in thought, until he returned.

"Yes?" she said. "Who is it?"

"Samuel Astor, Anna. He wishes to speak to you right away."

"Tell him I'm not here. Tell him I've thrown myself into the ocean."

"He says it's very urgent."

"Oh, no," she said, but went to answer the phone.

Nine.

Am I reverting? Anna Richmond wondered, as the elevator continued to ascend the outer wall of the building. Is this what it is like?

Eathen was standing beside the outer glass wall of the elevator, his gaze riveted by the unfolding panorama of the great city. He pointed at some famous object, spoke its name, but Anna shook her head; she didn't want to know anything. A terrible tenseness gripped her muscles. She knew she was shaking like a tall building in an earthquake. Maybe this building. Any building. There hadn't been an earthquake in the city for more than fifty years. One was supposed to be due anytime. No, she thought, nearly uttering the word aloud. I can't do it. I don't want to.

"Anna, is something wrong?" Eathen asked, turning away from the glass wall. She sensed his radiated concern-strong, more so than ever before. "Can I help?"

She shook her head. "I'm all right."

The long trip was the cause. She ought to have known better-really. It had been weeks and weeks since she was last out of the house, but still it wasn't until they'd boarded the hovercraft-crammed with the crush of morning commuters-that she'd realized how much worse it was now. The people who surrounded her were no longer separate identities to be recognized, probed, or ignored. Instead, each now had the appearance of some unavoidable mass of thought and feeling-a vast, bulky object-that seemed to crowd around her physically, pressing down with a heavy weight, forcing any thoughts of her own out of her mind. When they reached the city, it was worse, and Eathen had led her to the waiting cab as if she were blind or crippled. Here in the building it was better. There was only herself-which she could bear-and Eathen's faint radiations. Vaguely, she could sense others in the building as the elevator soared past floor after floor of tiny apartments. But they wouldn't let her stay in this cozy elevator forever. She recognized this. They were going to make her leave again.

"Are you sure-?" Eathen began.

"Yes." She cut him off sharply. "I told you I'm fine."

Now the elevator stopped. Anna wobbled dangerously as the doors parted. She peered out into a bright, wide corridor.

"This isn't right," she said, shaking her head.

"No." Eathen pointed at the indicator upon the elevator control panel. It registered 58. "I thought you told me apartment 5890."

"I didn't." Was there any point to lying now? She sighed. "All right---I did."

"Then this is it."

"Yes. Yes, I see." She drove herself forward-out of the elevator-into the corridor. Behind, the doors clanged shut with nasty finality. The elevator zipped away, speeding downward. The gaping hole in the wall through which they had entered closed like a healing wound.

Eathen pointed: "This way, I believe."

She stood her ground, refusing to budge. "I want you to stay here."

"Stay?"

"It's none of your business."

"But-" She sensed his concern.

Reaching out, she touched his arm warmly. "I'm sorry, Eathen, but this is an assignment." She tried to smile. "If Astor knew I'd let you come, he would take my head. You shouldn't know about any of this."

"But I-"

"Look, all I'm going to do is tell her what I'm supposed to tell her about Alec. They don't want her to worry. So it won't take more than a couple seconds."

"You should have just called her. There was no need to make you come down here."

"I wanted to come. It's better in something like this to stand face-to-face." Again, she touched his arm in a reassuring way. Oh, why was all this necessary now? Just last night-she had finally played for him some of her music- his feelings had finally been aroused. Was it necessary that they quit now? What was more important? Astor's silly plot, or the creation of a new race? "Look," she cried, spreading her arms over her head. "I'm not even armed. I won't hurt her."

"I never thought you would." Eathen smiled. She had taught him that-smiling-but the gesture still seemed cold; there was no feeling on the other side of the lips.

"Of course not," she said.

With obvious hesitation, he stepped back and stood against the wall. "I'll wait here."

"Good. And-I won't be long."

"No."

"I'll be right back."

"Yes."

She meant every word she said but took only a few steps-turning a corner so that Eathen could not see-before she collapsed in a fit of silent giggling. She lunged against the soft, padded wall, restraining herself tightly, avoiding making any sound that would bring Eathen running. But what was so funny? Why was she laughing like this? She didn't know, and maybe that was what was funny. Then slowly, piece by piece, like the reconstructed parts of a jigsaw puzzle, she reformed herself, regained control. She straightened up. She moved away from the wall and stood as stiff as a soldier. She marched off down the corridor.

"I'm fine," she whispered to herself. "I'm not going to do anything wrong."

Apartment 5890 fitted neatly into a snug corner.

She knocked on the door.

A moment later: "Who is it?"

She answered boldly: "Anna Richmond."

The door opened instantly. The face that appeared confirmed all Anna's expectations: Sylvia Mencken was indeed a beautiful woman. And her radiations-Anna stepped back: there weren't any.

She wasn't-she couldn't be-she was a human being. So how-?

"Won't you come in," Sylvia said.

"Yes, yes," said Anna, hurrying past. The apartment was a blank, impersonal place-a pair of rooms, with the bed occupying a sunken place in the first. Anna moved around - and found a chair against one wall. Across the room, hanging straight in the middle of her gaze, was some horrendous old painting: shallow-faced children with huge staring eyes confined by barbed wire.