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The dome was a dark mass, marked only by a locater beam on the top. It was formed of bubblene, of
course, but of a thickness not seen elsewhere in the System. Only beneath the liquid oceans of Earth
were residences placed under similar pressure, and there were few of those on Earth because it was so
much easier to utilize the land surfaces and the shallow waters. Here on Venus there was no choice.
We entered the ponderous lock, and my claustrophobia abated somewhat. It was possible to imagine that
this was a normal city, spinning in the atmosphere of Jupiter or Saturn or Uranus, beset by less than ten
bars pressure. But I remained somewhat dazed, and really was not alert. My clearest memory of that
approach is our arrival at the compact suite provided, where Forta dialyzed me. It seemed that every
second event in my life had become the dialysis!
Forta arranged to drop Doppie off at the Earth embassy, as she was now off duty until we departed for
Mercury. I'm not sure how they managed the transfer; I was out of it, sleeping, being baby-sat by Smilo.
When I woke, Doppie was gone and so was Forta. Instead, a new woman was with me: Coral.
Coral had been my bodyguard. She was oriental that is, of Saturn derivation and expert in personal
defense. I had always felt secure when she was with me, though of course there were threats she had not
been able to protect me from. She had been young and most attractive when she came to me, and when I
separated from my wife she had been among those who had taken me as lover. She was healthy and
athletic, and versed in the sexual lore of the East, and her liaisons had been a delight. When I saw her, I
was gratified, for I knew that there would be marvelous times coming.
Of course it was Forta in another emulation. But she was so good at it that I simply accepted this
manifestation as reality, maintaining only a technical reservation in my mind. The real Coral was now in
her fifties, still attractive but not of the caliber she had been in her youth. This one was closer to thirty,
and she virtually shone with health and vigor.
I watched as she removed her clothing, marveling yet again at the perfection of the emulation. Height,
mass, skin color and tone, mannerisms I doubt that anyone but me could have told her from the
original, and I was half unsure. The body was compact and full, not at all like Forta's. How did she
manage that? By the signals, of course; she was projecting Coral, and so I received Coral, and my mind
filled in the details that I knew were there. We seldom truly see others; we see our images of them,
which do not necessarily correspond closely to the realities. Never before Forta had I appreciated how
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thoroughly this imaging process operates. Perhaps this is what makes helmet love so realistic: it
activates the images we already possess, or the capacity to accept images in lieu of realities. Sometimes
we much prefer those images.
Naked, she smiled at me. Then she came to me, and undressed me in the way Coral had, efficiently yet
erotically.
Smilo yawned and retreated to his nest. The games that human beings played bored him. Now, if there
had been another healthy tigress available, such as the one he had courted on Earth...
Some of the oriental sexual positions are heroic in the performance, but in deference to my weakness
Coral did not lead into any of these. She merely put me supine on the bed and straddled me, so that I
could see and touch her fine breasts and the rest of her without impediment while she made love to me. I
really did not have to do anything, just relax and enjoy it, but I felt as if I were participating positively.
At my age, there was no swift climax, but this had the advantage of giving me greater time to appreciate
the act. Age does not necessarily diminish sexual pleasure; not if a person's partner is understanding.
Intimately connected, I was enjoying this to the full.
Then the phone rang.
"Ignore it!" I rapped, afraid she would jump up and leave me stranded in mid-act.
But it was persistent. "It may be important," she said.
"Then I'll answer it," I snapped. "You stay put."
She did, but she abated her stimulation, merely containing my member in a state of stasis. I spoke to the
phone, "Orient on me, head only," I told it.
The holo pickup swung across to hover above my head. I knew that it would project only what I had
defined; phones were reasonably sophisticated appliances. There would be no evidence of my other
activity, or even of my nakedness. "Tyrant here," I said. "I am resting at the moment."
The pickup disappeared into its projected image. It was the President of Atalanta, one of the more
important planetary figures. Venus did mine iron, and was one of the more important System sources of
it, though not in a class with Mars. However, there were a number of other strategic metals here, too,
and the project needed them. I was here to deal; it behooved me to be polite, despite my predicament of
the moment. "I apologize for disturbing you, Tyrant," the President said diffidently. There was a small
pause in the words; he was speaking Egyptian, and there was an ongoing machine translation.
"Quite all right," I said graciously. "I expected to encounter you more formally at a later hour. I would
have prepared." For my hair was mussed, and of course it was evident that I was horizontal, not vertical;
the pillow framed my head.
"Indeed, you shall," he said quickly. "I should not have bothered you at this time. Perhaps if you transfer
me to your secretary, we can make the arrangements."
Everything had to be scripted just so! We couldn't just talk. I understood that but this request was
distinctly awkward at the moment. "I think she is on another mission now," I said cautiously, trying to
see through his image to Forta's face, but unable. "I regret "
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