Logan's Search by William F Nolan Read Free Book Online Page B

received official comp-notification of acceptance for Godbirth,” Logan said, keeping his tone level. A display of temper would achieve nothing; displayed emotion brought no profit here.
    “That is correct. You received notification.”
    Logan leaned forward, boring in. Logic. The computer could not refute logic. “How can I receive notification of a ritual that does not exist? Please explain that.”
    “It is not possible to render explanations relating to nonexistent data,” said the calm computer-voice. “But the notification exists!”
    “The notification exists. That is correct. But the data relating to it is nonexistent.” 
    “But if you admit sending me a—” Logan sighed, letting the sentence die. “Your question is unclear. Please clarify or I cannot offer you a reply.” 
    “Never mind,” said Logan. “The question is canceled.”
    No wonder Francis didn’t say much to him about Godbirth. Logan had assumed that Francis knew a great deal about the ritual, but obviously that assumption was incorrect.
    He stood up to leave.
    “We hope you have gained wisdom and satisfaction from your visit with us,” said the computer-voice. “Our services are always available to you, and you are always free to ask whatever questions may—”
    It was still talking as Logan muttered an obscenity and left the chamber. 
    He had gained nothing here but frustration.

    The dancer moved with hypnotic grace, weaving sinuous flame patterns through the crowd, creating a body-symphony in rippled yellow fire.
    Logan inhaled her sharply erotic fragrance, released as flames slowly consumed the potent skin cosmetic she wore.
    “Striking, isn’t she?” asked Jessica, sitting close to him in the fiery dark.
    “Yes, she’s that, all right,” agreed Logan, watching the dancer weave a flame ring around their table. Her smile dazzled through a halo of fire-blazed blue.
    “She seems to know you.”
    He nodded. “She’s Phedra 12. We’ve had sex.”
    “She must be a marvelous lover,” said Jessica. “Such exquisite body control.” 
    Logan said nothing to this.
    They were in the Hastings firegallery, and the partygoers around them were having a fine time, proud of netting the famous Logan 3 for their group. Society status symbol. Instant celebrity prize.
    As Phedra danced away, deeper into the crowd, Jessica leaned close to Logan. Her eyes appraised him coolly. “You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?”
    “I shouldn’t be here.”
    “Tell me why. Don’t you like me?” She pressed her right leg against his. “I thought you liked me.”
    Logan failed to respond. Jessica’s blatant sexuality sickened him. He’d hunted down her brother and should be held responsible, in her eyes, for Doyle’s violent death. Yet here she was, in a daring fullslash partysuit, preening to him, soliciting his lust, totally cold to what had happened to her brother. In a perverse sense, his part in Doyle’s death seemed to make him more attractive to her.
    It was all wrong. Distorted.
    Coming here tonight had been painful for Logan. Moving through the pleasure-gorged crowds of Arcade, assaulted by the mad cacophony of lights and sounds and colors, he was struck anew by the horrible emptiness of it all. Pleasure now, and death waiting beyond the lights.
    For Logan, Arcade encapsulated the basic sickness of this society—just as it had in his own world prior to the final destruction of the Thinker. Pleasure without freedom. Pleasure without hope. A mockery. A lure to dull the mind, to lead the citizen into Sleep…
    “I’d better leave,” said Logan. “I’m not much good at parties.”
    Jessica stood up. “All right, I’ll go too. Will you take me back to my unit?”
    Suddenly, abruptly, they moved together and she was in his arms. The clean scent of her shining hair reached him, the subtle perfume of her skin.With soft fingers, she touched his face, leaned to kiss him, her lips fierce and hot on his.
    In Jessica’s