purpose of the program was to produce a superior being who would eventually become their queen.
"These people, the Aridnii, have been in conflict with a race of arachnids for the last thousand years. During a battle between the two groups, the breeding area was overrun and the undeveloped pupa—their queen to be—was stolen by the arachnid warriors. The insectoids were unable to rescue their precious offspring, though many attempts were made. They didn't succeed because the arachnids could predict exactly how they would attack. A thousand years of warfare had taught each race all there was to know about the other.
"As time passed, the loss of the special offspring was sapping the Aridnii's will to fight, even to survive. They were on the verge of succumbing, not as individuals, but as an entire race. That was when my company was contacted. My staff and I spent many time cycles studying the situation.
"It was peculiar. Even though the insectoid race was going under, the arachnids were not attacking. This was odd, after all it looked like the logical time for them to mount an all-out attack. Many opportunities for mentally devastating psychological tactics existed. Yet they were doing none of these things. They were in fact amazingly quiescent.
"Can you guess what the problem was, Mr. Holt-Fennimore?"
William spouted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Well, sure, Mr. Carson. No game. No game equals no survival."
Mr. Carson sat up in his chair with a start. "Whauugg!" Then he rattled off something in a strange language. "And you said you had nothing to offer. You have stated, in a few seconds, a problem which took us months of your time to understand. Then it took more time to work out a solution."
It seemed simple enough to William. "So how did you teach the arachnids the concept of game and no-game?" he asked.
Mr. Carson laughed happily. "Ahhh..William, I'm going to enjoy finding a place for you. Indeed, how did we solve the problem? We found a philosopher who was bored." He chuckled cheerfully.
"He was from a university planet where he'd been teaching dull juveniles the basics of logic and various philosophical concepts for many years. He was literally dying of boredom. What he wanted, what he needed, was a way to put some of his vast learning into practice. He needed to see the application of his theories create effects in a real environment. He was beginning to doubt the reality, the worth of his own existence.
"I arranged for him to be attached to a group of itinerant entertainers, which we then put into the area under arachnid control. They planned to perform for the ruler of the arachnid forces. Our research indicated that the leader of this force loved games, particularly games involving numbers.
"Our man taught the ruler all the games he knew. In the process he saw to it the ruler never lost, won easily every time. At first the ruler thought this was fine. Then he became resentful.
"Our man was very calm during all this and asked him what was wrong. Of course, the ruler thought it was no fun winning all the time." Mr. Carson paused to give his ear a particularly energetic tug.
"The philosopher maneuvered the ruler into a discussion of the nature of games, and during their many talks the ruler realized that in taking the insectoid's queen, he had created a no-game condition which threatened the survival, not only of the insectoids, but also his own race. Instinctively, he and his own people knew this, which explained why, since the capture, the arachnids had made no overt moves against the other race. The philosopher and the ruler worked out a way by which our man would secure the pupa and return it to the insectoids. The ruler made it appear as though it was accomplished by a clandestine raid, about which he and his people knew nothing, with the philosopher acting as intermediary.
"So you see, William, client and employee both got something they wanted and needed. The philosopher was revitalized. He had an example of his philosophy in action to back up the workability of the theories he taught. The insectoids got their pupa back, and a future—a game—was restored. Our last report from the area was that the two races are fighting again, happily strengthening the survival characteristics of their breeding males, insuring the survival of each race."
"That's a hell of a story, Mr. Carson, but I can't believe things always work out so well for all your clients and employees."
"Of course not. But our success rate is very high, or we wouldn't be in business," he said.
Well, why not? William thought to himself. "I'm sure not surviving worth crap now. I'm not happy with my lot. If it takes something as crazy as this to find a solution, what the hell, I've got nothing to lose."
"There are several possibilities, William. It hasn't been decided which of these will be for you. We're going to send you back to Miss Annie-Brown's apartment now. It'll be a week or so before we're ready to make you an offer. I suggest you terminate all activities that would prevent you from leaving and prepare yourself for notification. If there are further questions, call Miss Annie-Brown." He sat and rubbed his small hands together in a very human gesture.
"This has been a most enlightening evening. I look forward to seeing you again before your assignment. I have a good feeling about this, Mr. Holt-Fennimore."
"Uh...thank you, Mr. Carson."
The chair disappeared into the floor, the characteristic hum started up and William was banged back down to the Bellefourche Towers. Beam me down, Scotty, was his last thought.
When William was in underwater demolition, they went on twenty mile underwater exercises, after which he was physically whipped. That's how he felt when he found himself back in Miss Annie-Brown's bedroom sitting on the cool ceramic plate.
She was waiting with her hand held out. As he stepped over the softly pulsating tubes his knees were trembling. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He looked at Miss Annie-Brown closely. She looked the same—delicious. When she noticed him looking at her, she smiled gently.
"I imagine you know this is not my true form?" she said when they got back to the couch in the sitting room.
It was sad. "Yes, I do now. I knew you were too good to be true."
"Mr. Holt-Fennimore, you say very poetical, sweet things. I thank you most sincerely." Her expression was utterly feminine, and he was barely able to resist the desire to touch her, if only in some small way.
She was still wearing her belt. She reached down and pressed one of the studs. She, well...the area she occupied began to change, and there she was as he had first seen her, about five-foot seven.
She took the belt off. It was amazing. There was no difference in her appearance except the seven inches. The same shiny black hair and lavender eyes. The same great...ah well, no use thinking about that.
"I've always wondered if people who live on other planets would look like people from Earth, or maybe like Mr. Carson. Considering how many stars there are in the galaxy, I'm not surprised there'd be people like you and him."
She brought over another bottle of Dom Perignon and filled two glasses. Then she giggled charmingly. "I wouldn't care if this were a planet full of Droggish-Fermed, I would forgive all for the wonderful creation of champagne."
"Hear! Hear!" What the hell's a Droggish-Fermed? he wondered.
"William," something in her voice got his attention immediately. "When men and women like each other on this planet, how do they...demonstrate this...affection?" she asked.
William blushed, and she noticed it immediately.
"I don't mean to embarrass you, William. I'm just naturally curious."
As he learned later, like women of Earth, those from distant planets weren't always completely up-front with their intentions.
They were sitting on the divan, and somehow she was very close. He didn't know how she managed it, but sitting there next to him she didn't seem taller. He thought the temperature control must be on the blink, it was awfully warm in there.
"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, Miss Annie-Brown," he lied. "We have many ways. Maybe