Part 19 (1/2)

While the Omans could not understand this purely Terran reasoning, they accepted the decision without a demurring thought. ”Who, then, are the two its to simulate?”

”No stipulation; roll your own,” Hilton said, and glanced at Karns.

”None of these Oman women are really hard on the eyes.”

”Check. Anybody who wouldn't call any one of 'em a slurpy dish needs a new set of optic nerves.”

”In that case,” the Omans said, ”no delay at all will be necessary, as we can make do with one temporarily. The Sory, no longer Sora, who has not been glad since the Tuly replaced it, is now in your kitchen. It comes.”

A woman came in and stood quietly in front of the two men, the wafted air carrying from her clear, smooth skin a faint but unmistakable fragrance of Idaho mountain syringa. She was radiantly happy; her bright, deep-green eyes went from man to man.

”You wish, sirs, to give me your orders verbally. And yes, you may order fresh, whole, not-canned hens' eggs.”

”I certainly will, then; I haven't had a fried egg since we left Terra.

But ... Larry said ... _you_ aren't Sory!”

”Oh, but I am, sir.”

Karns had been staring her, eyes popping. ”Holy Saint Patrick! Talk about simulation, Jarve! They've made her over into Lawrence's 'Innocent'--exact to twenty decimals!”

”You're so right.” Hilton's eyes went, half a dozen times, from the form of flesh to the painting and back. ”That must have been a terrific job.”

”Oh, no. It was quite simple, really,” Sory said, ”since the brain was not involved. I merely reddened my hair and lengthened it, made my eyes to be green, changed my face a little, pulled myself in a little around here....” Her beautifully-manicured hands swept the full circle of her waistline, then continued to demonstrate appropriately the rest of her speech:

”... and pushed me out a little up here and tapered my legs a little more--made them a little larger and rounder here at my hips and thighs and a little smaller toward and at my ankles. Oh, yes, and made my feet and hands a little smaller. That's all. I thought the Doctor Karns would like me a little better this way.”

”You can broadcast _that_ over the P-A system at high noon.” Karns was still staring. ”'That's all,' she says. But you didn't have _time_ to ...”

”Oh, I did it day before yesterday. As soon as Javvy materialized the 'Innocent' and I knew it to be your favorite art.”

”But d.a.m.n it, we hadn't even _thought_ of having you here then!”

”But I had, sir. I fully intended to serve, one way or another, in this your home. But of course I had no idea I would ever have such an honor as actually waiting on you at your table. Will you please give me your orders, sirs, besides the eggs? You wish the eggs fried in b.u.t.ter--three of them apiece--and sunny side up.”

”Uh-huh, with ham,” Hilton said. ”I'll start with a jumbo shrimp c.o.c.ktail. Horseradish and ketchup sauce; heavy on the horseradish.”

”Same for me,” Karns said, ”but only half as much horseradish.”

”And for the rest of it,” Hilton went on, ”hashed-brown potatoes and b.u.t.tered toast--plenty of extra b.u.t.ter--strong coffee from first to last. Whipping cream and sugar on the side. For dessert, apple pie _a la mode_.”

”You make me drool, chief. Play that for me, please, Innocent, all the way.”

”Oh? You are--you, personally, yourself, sir?--renaming me 'Innocent'?”

”If you'll sit still for it, yes.”

”That is an incredible honor, sir. Simply unbelievable. I thank you! I thank you!” Radiating happiness, she dashed away toward the kitchen.