Love? Love? Love? was it? was it?

And moved? moved?

"Thank you." he said to the guard. "You're welcome, ser."

They walked on. He reached the point of decision, at the corner by the lift, and said, "I suppose there's no real reason to go to our apartment, is there?"

"I suppose the vid will show up eventually," Grant said. "It probably got switched over to the new system anyway."

"We'd better try the route," Justin said. "Find out what we're into."

They took the lift down to the tunnels. C corridor had always had a nook in it. They'd seen it on a fairly frequent basis since they'd come to Wing One. Two days ago he'd swear it had still had a nook in it.

Today it had a clean new doorway with a card slot and no labeling whatsoever except: id and keycard required.

He shoved his card in. The door opened. They went through. Another guard, in the gla.s.s-enclosed foyer, sat at a desk. The guard said pleasantly, "Justin Warrick, Grant ALX. Your keys. Your apartment is upstairs on the third floor, number 2. Your office will be on the first floor, number 28. Take the lift."

"My keycard," he said, and the guard returned it. "Use the new card in the lift, ser."

"Right," he said, and he and Grant went into the lift. Grant hit 3, and they rose fast.

"With authority," Grant commented. And the door let them out into a corridor with gray carpetgray carpet, with a ripple of blue threading down its length. Abstract pictures hung at intervals, each one a bright color that played off the last one.

The place smelled of paint and plaster. And they walked. It was ghostly quiet. Deserted.

"Are we the only ones here, I wonder?" he asked.

"Not a sound," Grant said.

"I can understand the suddenness," he said. "Her security requirements. But, G.o.d &"

"It is certainly a surprise," Grant said.

On the a.n.a.logy of other moves, it would likely be thorough & and might include the rented vid. If there was a vending chit forgotten at the bottom of a drawer, he had every confidence that it was going to be swept up, installed in a neat box of "we don't know where this goes" items, but it would be there. Anything that seemed like personal property was likely going with them.

It wouldn't, howevera stray and irritated thought, from experience include the electronic list in the minder, all his phone numbers and addresses. He remembered the color-coded office supplies.

And his minder file was precisely the sort of thing a security operation was going to peel out and go over with a microscope before they gave it back to himbut if he asked nicely they might stream it onto the new minder, in the new place, for his convenience.

That prospect annoyed him, in advance of the event, no matter that there wasn't a thing in it he cared if they knew.

"They've moved our office again," Grant commented.

"And, d.a.m.n it all, we just got the pictures hung!"

"They might move them, too," Grant said. "Or not. Maybe they've provided some."

High-handed security touched off old twitches, no question, visions of little rooms and endless questions.

But this Ari was not the enemy, and she was keeping herself alive, and presumably taking care of those she deemed close to her. It was just one more step toward a life that, nervous as it made him, wasn't going to be the quiet life he'd tried to make for himself and Grant. It wasn't going to be inconspicuous, or safeprobably he lacked all power to do any d.a.m.ned thing in his career henceforward but serve as her backup, checker, and sounding board, but h.e.l.l, he wasn't ambitious. He'd survived this far. That had, all along, been the name of the game. Never mind the job cla.s.sification. Never mind personal aspirations. Just stay alive.

They walked. Doors on the left and right, very widely s.p.a.ced. "Big apartments," he said to Grant. There was number 10, 8, 6all evens in this hall. And a corner.

Number 1, a blue-green door, occupied an enormous stretch of hall, and right across from it "Number 2," Grant said.

There was a red door on the right, number 4, then, occupying the middle, number 2, a bright green one, and beyond that, finishing that corridor before another bend, gold number 3 and blue number 5.

"Right across from her," he said tentatively. "Who are 3, 4 and 5, I wonder?"

"I have no notion," Grant said, and used his new keycard on the door. It shot open.

The lights came on, brightened overhead, a high-ceilinged corridor with the illusion of mid-afternoon sky overheadit drew the eye up, in total startlement, made one think, nervously, that it was a skylight.

But it went on brightening. There was the sound of water splashing, somewhere. And down the hall, beneath itstatuary, and pictures, old ones, cla.s.sic ones.

Living room at the left. New furniture. Medium green couch. Abstract carpet pattern in rust browns. Cla.s.sy. Goldtone metal edge on the coffee table in front of it. Big wall sculpture in bra.s.s and rust brown enamel, an explosion of angles. He just stood there, half-blocking Grant's entry, until he realized that fact and walked all the way in.

Dining room, beyond that, in bra.s.s and gla.s.s, tiled floor like stone. A stream of water ran noisily down one wall, with a splashing sound that carried into the living room and the foyer.

"My G.o.d," he said.

"Rather pleasant place," Grant said.

"We don't possibly earn this much," he said.

"It seems we do now," Grant said. "And I'm sure, for whatever reason, we're worth it to someone."

He drew a breath, headed back through the apartment to the bedroom.

Correction: bedrooms. There were three, one green, one rust and reds, one blue. And an office or study, in lighter green.

"What in h.e.l.l are we supposed to do here?" Justin asked, turning from one bedroom to the other, in the hall. "Is it multiple choice?"

"This must be the main one," Grant said, and walked into the largest-looking bedroom, the blue one.

Justin followed. Beyond was a bathroom beyond the size a public gym might need. Sunken tub. Shower. Exercise equipment. He didn't even go in. He just turned full circle, saw a bed in a mirrored nook, mirrored ceiling.

"Good G.o.d." He was embarra.s.sed.

Grant walked over and touched the switches by the bed. Room lights went down. Water ripple made the whole area look underwater. "Dramatic," Grant said.

It was. Grant stood bathed in that light. He was still moderately appalled, as Grant apparently hit another switch. It became firelight, playing games on the bed, and in the mirrors on either hand.

Third was flashing neon. A blare of music.

Grant cut it off, startled, and, after two tries, went back to firelight. It was an interesting aesthetic effect. It might be, if nerves could quit insisting the building might be afire.

"I think she means well," Grant said.

"I can't imagine where they got this thing," he said. "G.o.d, what does she think we are?"

He walked midroom, where there was a bureau. A vase of fresh flowers of mixed colors sat propping a note card.

Dear Justin, it read, it read, I hope you like it. I hope it's not too gaudy, but you'd said all along you wanted color. You're safe here. Staff will do cleaning once a day, or oftener if you need them: you don't have to maintain anything, or cook if you don't want to. The minder has the call b.u.t.ton. Wing staff will clean for you: they're all going to be high security. And there's going to be a restaurant downstairs on 1 sometime next week, so they'll cater for you, at any hour: I wouldn't presume to install domestic staff for you, but if you and Grant decide you need some, and Wing staff isn't enough, you only have to ask. Guards a.s.signed, specifically to Apartment 2 security are Mark BM-18 and Gerry BG-22they're general Alpha Wing security, but they're two you pa.s.sed on, and if there's a general emergency, their first priority is you and Grant, so know who they are, and they'll just look out for you in general. Your accesses are a subset of Base One, officially now, registered that way, so you don't have to pretend to be Callie or Theo any more. All Library is open to you, and any security situation in the Wing will be at least as transparent to you as to any of my staff except my bodyguard, if you just query Base One, so if you ever get worried you or Grant can access it immediately from any handheld anywhere in Reseune. I know you're careful with codes. I hope you like it. I hope it's not too gaudy, but you'd said all along you wanted color. You're safe here. Staff will do cleaning once a day, or oftener if you need them: you don't have to maintain anything, or cook if you don't want to. The minder has the call b.u.t.ton. Wing staff will clean for you: they're all going to be high security. And there's going to be a restaurant downstairs on 1 sometime next week, so they'll cater for you, at any hour: I wouldn't presume to install domestic staff for you, but if you and Grant decide you need some, and Wing staff isn't enough, you only have to ask. Guards a.s.signed, specifically to Apartment 2 security are Mark BM-18 and Gerry BG-22they're general Alpha Wing security, but they're two you pa.s.sed on, and if there's a general emergency, their first priority is you and Grant, so know who they are, and they'll just look out for you in general. Your accesses are a subset of Base One, officially now, registered that way, so you don't have to pretend to be Callie or Theo any more. All Library is open to you, and any security situation in the Wing will be at least as transparent to you as to any of my staff except my bodyguard, if you just query Base One, so if you ever get worried you or Grant can access it immediately from any handheld anywhere in Reseune. I know you're careful with codes.

Have I ever mentioned you and Grant kept me honest when I was a kid? You still do. You never flattered me, never lied to me. Please talk to me first if you ever have a problem. That means you'll never cross up something I'm doing. Meanwhile I just feel safer and more comfortable if you're across the hall. I don't know why that is, but it's so.

The minder is primed with all the Alpha Wing service numbers as well as all your old ones. You can go anywhere you ever went. Just guard those keycards with your lives.

Grant, keep him out of trouble. I love you both so much. And I'll be so happy if you like this place, but you can change anything you want to change, anything at all.

Ari.

He walked back, sat down on the side of the bed. Just sat, and looked up at Grant, thinkingthey'd never get back to their plain, ordinary apartment, their little place where they'd been alternately safe and scared as h.e.l.l.

This place wasn't the ongoing penance of the posh black and white apartment. It was comfortable. Extravagant beyond belief. "It's nice," Grant said.

"G.o.d, if that music cycles on in the middle of the night," he said, "I'll teleport."

"Well," Grant said, "there's probably a manual somewhere in System. We can look. Maybe we can change the programming."

Justin gave a rueful laugh. And looked around him soberly then, all but overwhelmed.

"Why are we possibly this important to her?"

"You're asking the azi, born-man."

"It's justevery ratchet up the scale, we're increasingly in the target zone, if anything ever goes wrong."

"I think that's always been a given, from way back. Hasn't it?"

"I suppose it was. Is. Will be."

"It's probably very wise to put us behind her security wall. You'd easily be a target, if someone aimed at her. And I think, if you want my opinion, she'd be a different Ari if she lost you. I think she knows that very well."

"I don't know why," he said.

"I do," Grant said, "but I'm not going to tell you."

"You're a help."

"She absolutely trusts you, and considering who you are, that's probably quite a scary situation for her."

"I don't have to be here for that. We had our arrangement. She can trust me anywhere."

"You're a vulnerability. She's sealing up her armor."

That, he saw. He could all but hear the clanks of doors shutting. Figuratively.

She was growing up. The place was a fortress. Total security, her own guard & "She's preparing to take Reseune," he said. "She's preparing not to be caught the way Denys was." He recalled the paintings outsidedifferent from anything that had hung anywhereuncertain they were art, or just for color, but they had an effect. They dragged the eye from one to the next, took hold and led, one to the next.

He remembered that night in Ari Senior's apartment, when he'd had an injudicious drink and found himself changed, yanked sideways, away from Jordan, in ways he still couldn't overcome. That hallway. The paintings on Ari's walls.

He'd admired one. A painting of trees that weren't woolwood. He'd been terrified of his situation, fascinated by the intricate, fine-scale art. Set off balance by the luxury.

Overload. That was what he was getting, in this place. Wild angles. Water. Art that went sideways and splashed wild color, vastly different from anything in Wing Oneanything he'd ever seen. But it was an Ari kind of thing, the paintings. It played psychological games. They were stark. Potent. Expensive.

"She's becoming Ari," he said. "We're seeing it now. This may be the beta version, but this is power, not just wealth. This wing isn't just decorated. If somebody did it for her, they know her. They painted her in this place. This is power. This just hits you in the gut."

"In some ways," Grant said, "she's alpha azibut with an emotional dimension I certainly don't understand." Grant's eyes traveled up and around. "Then I see this place. The ceilings, way off scale. The way colors. .h.i.t you. The waterfall in the living room" His voice trailed off. Justin made the little caution sign. If they'd been bugged before, they were surely bugged now. "The waterfall is CIT. Pure CIT. But it's pleasant."

"The sky arch in the foyer. Like being outside. That's a psychological difference, isn't it?" He took the warning, took a deep breath. "Maybe a big difference in our Ari. Who knows?"

"I'm sure we're going to find out," Grant said.

"Are you all right here?" Grant asked him then, quietly. "Are you all right with this?"

Sometimes Grant functioned as his Supervisor. He did a mental check. "I think so," he said. It didn't feel like home. It wouldn't, for a while. "We had apartment design A. apartment design B, and C. And pick one of three, over in Ed. This is certainly something else, isn't it?"

"It's not black and white," Grant said.

"You know what bothers me here? The black and white place was a place where we stayed. This onethis one just gets right under your skin, doesn't it? I like the colors. Like the look. She read me. Read both of us, didn't she? She did, or somebody sure did."

"I'm not that difficult," Grant said.

"That's what you think," he said, and thought about their growing up together, and thought about Jordan, who never, ever could get in here to see where his son lived.

Jordan. Step by step, he won't like this, he won't live with it, he's going to blow, sooner or later.

He's doing those sets knowing she's going to check them, and there'll be something wrong, because he'll find out about this place, and it'll eat him alive. He doesn't like unknowns. Doesn't like anything that's been happening. And when she does take over "What are you thinking?" Grant asked.

"That Jordan's going to be p.i.s.sed about this arrangement."

"We can't fix it."

"May be. But I'm a stupid, emotional born-man and I want to fix it. And he's a d.a.m.ned fool. He's writing those sets. He'll foul them in some particularly subtle way to try her. Just to try her. And if she bounces them back with no comment, he'll just try again."

"At least he has a focus," Grant said, and that was true.

"I don't think she's shown anybody yet what she can do," he said absently. "I don't think she knows herself what she can do. Jordan's going to try the limits. h.e.l.l, maybe it's good for both of them."

"Maybe," Grant said.

"All those other numbers up and down the hall. And this is the third floor. Who else has she targeted, do you think? Who else decorates her universe?"

"Amy Carnath," Grant said. "Sam Whitely. Probably Madelaine Stra.s.sen. Maybe Yanni."

"The kids. Yanni. And us. Oh, that's going to be a well-matched social set."