She led Helen up a cracked concrete path to a narrow doorway. The dimly lit hallway beyond was elegantly plain. A set of stone steps led up to the first floor. Helen followed Judy up the stairs and along a corridor, where Judy gave a loud knock on a wooden door near the end.
No one home, Helen said.
Hell be asleep, said Judy. The apartments Turing machine will be waking him up as we speak, telling him there is a member of Social Care at the door. Hell take a few minutes to get washed and dressed. Maybe have a shave. Everyone likes to make a good impression with Social Care.
Youre enjoying this, arent you? Helen said, noting Judys self-satisfied smile.
I take pride in my work, Judy said, as do all members of Social Care.
But you like the power it gives you, dont you?
Judy turned her face to Helens, impassive black eyes lost in a white face locking on to hers.
What makes you say that, Helen?
The way youre behaving.
I believe I am acting in the appropriate manner for a member of Social Care.
Im sure you do.
Judy said nothing. There was something unsettling about her black-and-white figure, standing utterly motionless in the silent corridor. Something deliberately unsettling.
Its not that I blame you, Helen said crisply. I might feel the same if I lived like you do: experiencing the real world, not following the safe, comfortable lives of the majority.
Judy measured a silence before answering. Spare me the emotional tourism, Helen. People are whatever they choose to make themselves. Social Care is just here to point them in the right directions.
Helen was taken completely by surprise at the anger that boiled up inside her. She hadnt knownof course twelve hours out of the torture chamber would not be enough to effect any sort of cure. She was taken aback by the venom welling up inside her; she felt that she was standing to one side and listening to herself shouting at Judy.
Dont speak to me like that, you bitch. She had pressed her face close to Judys. I hate that attitude! I hate the way people like you do that! The calm part of her was looking at that smooth white face, those black, black eyes. You teachers and social workers who take on the suffering of their clients for your own. Im the one who was locked up in a torture chamber! Me ! Dont make out that you have a better understanding than I do about the way the world works! You, youvirgin !
She was spitting. Judy stared at her, tiny drops of Helens saliva rolling from her impassive white face, her black hair shimmering softly in the dim light. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, Helens anger vanished. Still Judy stared at her. And stared. And then, one hand reached into the opposite sleeve of her kimono. Down the hallway sounded the gentle click of a door closing, and Helen was abruptly, utterly deflated.
Sorry, she said.
Helen, Judy said, calmly pulling her hand free of her sleeve. I do have a far better understanding than you of how the world works. Maybe, as you work with me, you will come to realize this.
Helen opened her mouth in astonishment at Judys arrogance.
Here, Judy said, before Helen could speak. Walk a klick in my shoes. Take this.
She held out a tiny red pill. Before she could add anything else, the door to the apartment opened.
Peter Onethirteen? said Judy, turning smoothly to face the man who stood in the doorway.
Pleased to meet you, he said eagerly, holding out his hand. He glanced
briefly at Helen, her hand to her mouth as she swallowed the red pills, but his gaze was immediately drawn back to Judy. Helen watched him, intrigued. Judy was right: people always did want to make a good impression with Social Care. She had a flash of embarrassed recognition as she remembered how she herself had acted in similar encounters in the past. Just like the tubby little man who was now inviting them into the hallway. There he went, wringing his hands together, leading them into the lounge, nervously pulling out a canister of real coffee and waving it vaguely in the air, offering to make them both a drink. And look at Judy , thought Helen. Shes using it; shes relying on it, playing with the man . Helen felt nothing but scorn for him.
Sit down, sit down, said Peter Onethirteen. His hair had been allowed to recede, leaving just a little tuft at the front of his head, a fashion that Helen had never liked. He wore a transparent floating gown, his pale green pajamas clearly visible beneath it. He was almost fat, probably just at the upper limit of the EAs acceptable parameters. No doubt his kitchen would be stocked with low-kilojoule supplies, his exercise routine just a little more vigorous than the average persons.
Are you sure you dont want some coffee? he was saying. Its very good, genuine Arabica.
No, thank you, said Judy. Peter Onethirteen, I would like you to cast your mind back fourteen years. You were a crew member of an Inner System ship back then, werent you?
Yes said Peter. Helen didnt need the effect of the little red pill of MTPH to sense the fear that rose in the man. She could see it in his eyes, in the way his frame suddenly stiffened. He placed the coffee container on the kitchen counter and gave Judy a tight smile.