it had felt like I was guessing with too much certainty at somebody's private thoughts.
"Can you read my mind?"
"That's not quite it. I get the feel of how you think, not what you're thinking. Morris, I don't like the idea of being a political prisoner."
'Well, we can talk that over later." When my bargaining position is better, Morris meant. When I don't need the bartender's good will to con the Monk. "What's important is that you might be able to read a Monk's mind. That could be crucial."
"And maybe he can read mine. And yours."
I let Morris sweat over that one while I set drinks on Louise's tray. Already there were customers at four tables. The Long Spoon was filling rapidly and only two of them were Secret Service.
Morris said, "Any ideas on what Louise Schu ate last night? We've got your professions pretty well pegged down. Finally."
"I've got an idea. It's kind of vague." I looked around. Louise was taking more orders. "Sheer guesswork, in fact. Will you keep it to yourself for awhile?"
"Don't tell Louise? Sure-for awhile."
I made four drinks, and Louise took them away. I told Morris, "I have a profession in mind. It doesn't have a simple one or two word name, like teleport or starship captain or translator. There's no reason why it should, is there? We're dealing with aliens."
Morris sipped at his drink. Waiting.
"Being a woman," I said, "can be a profession, in a way that being a man can never be. The word is housewife, but it doesn't cover all of it. Not nearly."
"Housewife. You're putting me on."
"No. You wouldn't notice the change. You never saw her before last night."
"Just what kind of change have you got in mind? Aside from the fact that she's beautiful, which I did notice."
"Yes, she is, Morris. But last night she was twenty pounds overweight. Do you think she lost it all this morning?"
"She was too heavy. Pretty, but also pretty well padded." Morris turned to look over his shoulder, casually turned back. "Damn. She's still well padded. Why didn't I notice before?"
"There's another thing.-By the way. Have some pizza."
"Thanks." He bit into a slice. "Good, it's still hot. Well?"
"She's been staring at that pizza for half an hour. She bought it. But she hasn't tasted it. She couldn't possibly have done that yesterday."
"She may have had a big breakfast."
"Yah." I knew she hadn't. She'd eaten diet food. For years she'd kept a growing collection of diet food, but she'd never actively tried to survive on it before. But how could I make such a claim to Morris? I'd never even been in Louise's apartment.
"Anything else?"
"She's gotten good at nonverbal communication. It's a very womanly skill. She can say things just by the tone of her voice or the way she leans on an elbow or-"
"But if mind reading is one of your new skills..."
"Damn. Well. . . it used to make Louise nervous if someone touched her. And she never touched anyone else." I felt myself flushing. I don't talk easily of personal things.
Morris radiated skepticism. "It all sounds very subjective. In fact, it sounds like you're making yourself believe it. Frazer, why would Louise Schu want such a capsule course? Because you haven't described a housewife at all. You've described a woman looking to persuade a man to many her."
He saw my face change. "What's wrong?"
"Ten minutes ago we decided to get married."
"Congratulations," Morris said, and waited.
"All right, you win. Until ten minutes ago we'd never even kissed. I'd never made a pass, or vice versa. No, damn it, I don't believe it! I know she loves me; I ought to!"
"I don't deny it," Morris said quietly. "That would be why she took the pill. it must have been strong stuff; too, Frazer. We looked up some of your history. You're marriage-shy."
It was true enough. I said, "If she loved me before, I never knew it. I wonder how a Monk could know."
"How would he know about such a skill at all? Why would he have the pill on him? Come on, Frazer, you're the Monk expert!"
"He'd
"Can you read my mind?"
"That's not quite it. I get the feel of how you think, not what you're thinking. Morris, I don't like the idea of being a political prisoner."
'Well, we can talk that over later." When my bargaining position is better, Morris meant. When I don't need the bartender's good will to con the Monk. "What's important is that you might be able to read a Monk's mind. That could be crucial."
"And maybe he can read mine. And yours."
I let Morris sweat over that one while I set drinks on Louise's tray. Already there were customers at four tables. The Long Spoon was filling rapidly and only two of them were Secret Service.
Morris said, "Any ideas on what Louise Schu ate last night? We've got your professions pretty well pegged down. Finally."
"I've got an idea. It's kind of vague." I looked around. Louise was taking more orders. "Sheer guesswork, in fact. Will you keep it to yourself for awhile?"
"Don't tell Louise? Sure-for awhile."
I made four drinks, and Louise took them away. I told Morris, "I have a profession in mind. It doesn't have a simple one or two word name, like teleport or starship captain or translator. There's no reason why it should, is there? We're dealing with aliens."
Morris sipped at his drink. Waiting.
"Being a woman," I said, "can be a profession, in a way that being a man can never be. The word is housewife, but it doesn't cover all of it. Not nearly."
"Housewife. You're putting me on."
"No. You wouldn't notice the change. You never saw her before last night."
"Just what kind of change have you got in mind? Aside from the fact that she's beautiful, which I did notice."
"Yes, she is, Morris. But last night she was twenty pounds overweight. Do you think she lost it all this morning?"
"She was too heavy. Pretty, but also pretty well padded." Morris turned to look over his shoulder, casually turned back. "Damn. She's still well padded. Why didn't I notice before?"
"There's another thing.-By the way. Have some pizza."
"Thanks." He bit into a slice. "Good, it's still hot. Well?"
"She's been staring at that pizza for half an hour. She bought it. But she hasn't tasted it. She couldn't possibly have done that yesterday."
"She may have had a big breakfast."
"Yah." I knew she hadn't. She'd eaten diet food. For years she'd kept a growing collection of diet food, but she'd never actively tried to survive on it before. But how could I make such a claim to Morris? I'd never even been in Louise's apartment.
"Anything else?"
"She's gotten good at nonverbal communication. It's a very womanly skill. She can say things just by the tone of her voice or the way she leans on an elbow or-"
"But if mind reading is one of your new skills..."
"Damn. Well. . . it used to make Louise nervous if someone touched her. And she never touched anyone else." I felt myself flushing. I don't talk easily of personal things.
Morris radiated skepticism. "It all sounds very subjective. In fact, it sounds like you're making yourself believe it. Frazer, why would Louise Schu want such a capsule course? Because you haven't described a housewife at all. You've described a woman looking to persuade a man to many her."
He saw my face change. "What's wrong?"
"Ten minutes ago we decided to get married."
"Congratulations," Morris said, and waited.
"All right, you win. Until ten minutes ago we'd never even kissed. I'd never made a pass, or vice versa. No, damn it, I don't believe it! I know she loves me; I ought to!"
"I don't deny it," Morris said quietly. "That would be why she took the pill. it must have been strong stuff; too, Frazer. We looked up some of your history. You're marriage-shy."
It was true enough. I said, "If she loved me before, I never knew it. I wonder how a Monk could know."
"How would he know about such a skill at all? Why would he have the pill on him? Come on, Frazer, you're the Monk expert!"
"He'd
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