"And you found it to your taste?"

He really did seem to be concerned that she be pleased. Maybe he wasn't so bad. She gave him a friendly smile, but she remembered her fangs and closed it down. "The meal was quite tasty. My com- pliments to your corporate chef. I don't believe that IVe ever had meat with quite so delicate a flavor."

Garcia's smile grew wider. "Yes, it is a specialty. I will be sure to communicate your compliments."

Garcia escorted her across the landing field to a waiting helicopter. They climbed aboard and madea short flight over Mexico City. Their destination was a compound on the north side of the plex. The GWN monogram that she had seen on the uniforms of Gar- cia's minions at the airport gleamed on the side of the eighty-story skyscraper at the center of the enclosed blocks.

Oozing charm, Garcia took her on a whirlwind tour of the facilities. GWN was an obviously successful corporation. Most of the plants were devoted to food processing and nutrient farming; labels on container- ized cargo lots told her that GWN shipped worldwide.

She wondered briefly what brands belonged to the firm. Comestibles weren't the corporation's only prod-

54.

Robert N. Charretteuct. Several impressive structures were dedicated to information technologies and small, high-tech manu- facturing plants. The combination wasn't surprising; no megacorporation could survive without at least dabbling in the Matrix and data technology. If all of this belonged to Mr. Shiroi, as Garcia implied, her benefactor was a powerful man.

They had just left a building where cheap simsense players were being assembled, and were walking through a section of employee tenements, when a tele- corn box on a street corner called Garcia's name. He excused himself, leaving her to stand in the heat.

OflF- shift employees, who had been gathered on the front stoops to take in the afternoon sun, suddenly found business elsewhere, but not before she had seen their fearful glances in her direction. Garcia returned.

"Ah, Mr. Shiroi will see you now, if you wish. But there is no hurry. Plenty of time for you to freshen up or partake of some refreshment, if you wish."

She shook her head. Freshening up was something for norms. Make-up on her face would be a travesty, andshe didn't have a curry comb for the fur. Let Mr.

Shi- roi see her as she was, because that's what he got.

"You are not hungry yet?"

"No. I'm not hungry at all."

"That is understandable. After the change one's ap- petites are often erratic. It is best to trust your feel- ings. Your body will know when you need sustenance.

One should not overdo."

Garcia took her to an elevator, holding the door open as he tapped a code into the keypad. He wished her well and stepped back, letting the doors slide shut.

The car rose silently, with very little sensation of mo- tion. After a few moments, the doors opened on a lavish office. Chill air swept into the car, cooling her comfortably.

The walls were a pale, pale blue. She might have .

55.

taken them for white if not for the pure alabaster of the deep pile carpet. The room was huge, but its fur- nishings were few, and they were dominated by the presence in one corner of a carved column. The stackof stylized faces on it stretched at least three meters; it didn't reach the ceiling yet seemed to fill the room.

Two-thirds of the way across the chamber, a dark wood desk stood between her and the tinted window-wall.

Behind the desk, in an oddly shaped chair, sat Mr.

Shiroi.

"Ah, Janice," he said as he noticed her. "It is good to see you again."

He was smiling, with pleasure she thought. Why he should do that, she didn't know. She wasn't pleasant to see. She felt awkward and out of place.

"Wish I thought so, Mr. Shiroi."

His smile faded a bit and his eyes filled with con- cern. "You must learn to accept what you are, since there is no way to change it. Denial only prolongs the pain. I do not wish to see you in pain. And please, call me Dan."

She slowly walked across the room, since that was expected. When he indicated the chair in front of the desk, she sat. She started as the soft grey upholstery shifted beneath her.

"Just relax. It will settle down," he said. There was a hint of amusement on his face.She didn't like being laughed at. Forcing herself to ignore the squirming chair, she waited. The cushions slowed their wriggling and finally stopped. She was surprised at how comfortable it was. She was almost as surprised that the chair seemed to fit her oversize body. Shiroi must have read her reaction on her face.

"You have just had your first experience with a Tendai-Barca Glove Lounger. They are always a little unnerving the first time, but, if you will excuse the

56.

Robert N. Charrette .

57.

pun, one adjusts quickly. I doubt you will find better seating anywhere in the world."

She calmed her breathing, relaxing. The chair shifted again to accommodate her. Perhaps heranger at his amusement was out of place. Anyone feeling a chair writhe under their butt would look comical.

She still wasn't comfortable mentally, though. He had had her brought halfway around the world. Surely, it wasn't all for the sake of this small joke?

"What do you want, Mr. Shiroi?"

"There is no more reason to be abrupt than there is to distrust my motives, Janice." He took her bad man- ners in stride. She even thought she detected a hint of sadness behind his soft voice. "I want to help you find yourself. I want you to accept a place in my organi- zation. If you choose to follow your own path, I will understand, but it is my hope that you will find us congenial. It is very lonely being on your own. It could also be dangerous."

"Trying to scare me, Mr. Shiroi?"

He laughed. "No. The outside world holds enough terrors for our kind. We need not prey upon ourselves.

And I do wish that you would call me Dan."

"Dan. You say 'our kind.' / know you and Garciaare like me, but your employees don't know it because you hide behind illusions, or whatever it is you do so that they see you as norms. Why? Why do you hide what you are?"

"Why?" he asked. All trace of his humor sank be- neath an expression of seriousness. "You should not have to ask that. You have seen yourself in the mirror, Janice. You have seen how the norms react to you.

That is the answer. Do you wish to deal with the un- reasoning fear all day, every day?"

Of course she didn't. Who would? She had felt the fear and hate too often when she was just an ork.

Orks were common. She didn't like to think what was in store for her as a rare, more monstrous metahuman.

Against that dread, her objection seemed petty.

"I don't like pretending to be something other than what I am!"

He swiveled his chair ninety degrees, presenting her with a profile. She watched his chest rise and listened as he let the air out in a long sigh."We all wear masks and pretend to be something other than ourselves, do we not? The norms do it.

Even you did it before your change." He swiveled back to face her, cutting her off before she could object.

"Were you not a different person with your peers than when you were with your family? How about when you dealt with your corporate superiors? Every set of peo- ple with whom we interact sees a different person, a different facet of ourselves. This magical disguise is like that, a mask of necessity. In our case, it hides the physical reality. Beneath the masks we are still our- selves. The illusion is simply necessary grease for the machine of social interaction. Nothing more.

Having spent so much time in the Imperial Japanese Empire, surely you are familiar with the need to smooth rela- tions between people."

At the mention of Japan, she shivered. The chair shifted in response.

"I am sorry. I should not have mentioned Japan."He watched her for a while, saying nothing. She was glad; she didn't know what to say. He was right, of course. It still seemed . . . odd that someone could make the metaphorical masks a reality. If a magical spell could be called reality. She taxed the Tendai- Barca, seeking to get into a physically comfortable po- sition, while it was her mental state that unsettled her.

He, of course, noticed.

"If you will be more comfortable, I will drop the spell. You are among friends here."

58.

Robert N. Charrette "I don't know. I don't know what I want. It's been so confusing. I just want to get things under control."

"I want to help you do just that. Here. Look."

He had dropped his spell. He was huge, bigger than she was. His Tendai-Barca flowed to support his in- creased size; panels expanded, slumped, and thick- ened as the chair reshaped itself to accommodatehim.

His fur was stark white, as pure as polar snow. The skin of his broad face and powerful hands was dark and glossy with health. Once she might have shrunk from his visage, but now she was as monstrous as he.

But then, he didn't consider himself monstrous. Or did he? He hid beneath a spell. Or was that true, either?

What did he see when he looked in a mirror? The smooth Oriental features of Mr. Dan Shiroi or the wide nose, deep-set eyes, and fangs of his metatype?

"Now that the mask is down, anyone can see that I am of the same metatype as you. Believe me when I say that I understand what you are going through.

Be- tween us there need be no false fronts. Illusions are for the norms."

A sudden stir of bitterness swirled across her mind, rippling through what she realized had been a growing sense of fellowship. He might be her metatype, but he was still something she was not. "Even if I accepted your philosophy, Dan, I couldn't do what you do.

I'm mundane.""And how do you know that with such certainty?

You cannot be totally without talent if you pierced our illusions."

Once again his expression held a hint that he knew something that she did not. She felt uneasy under that knowing gaze. She felt more disquieted by the grow- ing belief that he meant her well, that he really was interested in her.

She heaved herself up out of the chair, staggering a little when it released her more easily than she had .

59.

expected. Pacing around the desk, she made her un- steady way to the window-wall. Beneath her spread the panorama of the towers of Mexico City. The spires of man's arrogance, lofting above one of the largest cities on earth while the bases of those towers lay hidden in smog. Hidden too were the people who thronged the Atzlan capital. People . . . she wasn't one of them anymore. This city couldn't be her home. Cities wereplaces for people and people had cast her out.

Would she ever have a home now?

She had been beginning to think that she might find one with Shiroi ... no, Dan. But now she saw that slipping away as well. He thought she was just like him, but she knew better. She was incapable of doing what he could, and she knew it all too well.

She owed him for his kindness. His manner was so accepting, his interest in her welfare so clear. The least she could do was to tell him how she knew that she had none of the magic. She turned around to find that he had risen from his chair. He stood a step away, concern and anxiety plain on his face. She smiled sheepishly.

"I've never told anyone, Dan. None of my friends.

Not even my brother. I was embarrassed to tell any- one." He reached out a long arm and rested a hand on her arm. She drew strength from the comforting touch. "I was tested for magical ability once."

"By whom?"

"The Hoboken Institute. They are a very reputable firm.""Perhaps they made a mistake."

"That's what I told myself at first. When I was growing up, I always wanted to be a magician. I never told anyone, of course, because my dad was dead set against magic. He called it all nonsense and tricks.