Abduction (14 page)
Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Onbekend, #Unabridged Audio - Fiction, #Suspense & Thriller
"You experienced what we went through?" Suzanne questioned.
"I did," Sufa said. "But it was a long, long time ago. Several lifetimes, actually." "Excuse me?" Suzanne said. She assumed she'd not heard correctly. The phrase
several lifetimes
didn't make any sense.
"Come!" Sufa said. "We have to get you settled. The questions must wait." She took Suzanne's arm. Together they climbed the few steps from the walkway and entered the cottage. Suzanne stopped just beyond the door, awestruck by the decor. In sharp contrast to the black exterior, the interior was almost exclusively white: white marble, white cashmere, and multiple mirrored surfaces. It reminded Suzanne of the living quarters where she had so recently slept but on a much more lavish scale. An added feature was an azure pool that stretched from inside the room to the outdoors. The pool was fed by a waterfall that cascaded out of the wall. "The room doesn't please you?" Sufa questioned with concern. She'd been watching Suzanne's face and mistook her wonderment for dissatisfaction. "Whether I like it or not is hardly the question," Suzanne said. "It's unbelievable." "But we want you to be comfortable," Sufa said. "What about the others?" Suzanne asked. "Are their quarters anything like this?" "They are identical," Sufa said. "All the visitors' cottages are the same. But if there is something else you might need, please tell me. I'm sure we can provide it." Suzanne's eyes moved to the enormous circular bed, which was on a raised marble dais at the center of her quarters. A large canopy was draped above it. From its circumference hung gathered bundles of sheer white fabric.
"Perhaps you could tell me what you feel is lacking," Sufa said. "Nothing is lacking," Suzanne said. "The room is breathtaking." "Then you do like it," Sufa said with relief. "It's stunning," Suzanne said. She reached out and touched the marble wall. Its surface was polished to a mirrorlike perfection, and it felt warm as if heated by inner radiation. Sufa stepped over to a cabinet that lined the wall to the right. She gestured down its length. "Inside here you have media consoles, extra clothing, reading material in your language, a large refrigerator with a selection of refreshments, personal toilet articles that you'll recognize, and just about anything else you might need."
"How do I open it?" Suzanne asked.
"Just use a voice command," Sufa said simply. She pointed at one of two doors on the wall opposite the cabinetry. "Personal facilities are through there."
"I did," Sufa said. "But it was a long, long time ago. Several lifetimes, actually." "Excuse me?" Suzanne said. She assumed she'd not heard correctly. The phrase
several lifetimes
didn't make any sense.
"Come!" Sufa said. "We have to get you settled. The questions must wait." She took Suzanne's arm. Together they climbed the few steps from the walkway and entered the cottage. Suzanne stopped just beyond the door, awestruck by the decor. In sharp contrast to the black exterior, the interior was almost exclusively white: white marble, white cashmere, and multiple mirrored surfaces. It reminded Suzanne of the living quarters where she had so recently slept but on a much more lavish scale. An added feature was an azure pool that stretched from inside the room to the outdoors. The pool was fed by a waterfall that cascaded out of the wall. "The room doesn't please you?" Sufa questioned with concern. She'd been watching Suzanne's face and mistook her wonderment for dissatisfaction. "Whether I like it or not is hardly the question," Suzanne said. "It's unbelievable." "But we want you to be comfortable," Sufa said. "What about the others?" Suzanne asked. "Are their quarters anything like this?" "They are identical," Sufa said. "All the visitors' cottages are the same. But if there is something else you might need, please tell me. I'm sure we can provide it." Suzanne's eyes moved to the enormous circular bed, which was on a raised marble dais at the center of her quarters. A large canopy was draped above it. From its circumference hung gathered bundles of sheer white fabric.
"Perhaps you could tell me what you feel is lacking," Sufa said. "Nothing is lacking," Suzanne said. "The room is breathtaking." "Then you do like it," Sufa said with relief. "It's stunning," Suzanne said. She reached out and touched the marble wall. Its surface was polished to a mirrorlike perfection, and it felt warm as if heated by inner radiation. Sufa stepped over to a cabinet that lined the wall to the right. She gestured down its length. "Inside here you have media consoles, extra clothing, reading material in your language, a large refrigerator with a selection of refreshments, personal toilet articles that you'll recognize, and just about anything else you might need."
"How do I open it?" Suzanne asked.
"Just use a voice command," Sufa said simply. She pointed at one of two doors on the wall opposite the cabinetry. "Personal facilities are through there."
Suzanne walked over to stand next to Sufa and faced the cabinet. "What exactly do I say?"
"Whatever it is you're looking for," Sufa explained. "Followed by an exclamatory word like 'please' or 'now'."
"Food, please!" Suzanne said self-consciously. No sooner had she uttered the words when one of the cabinet doors opened to reveal a sizable refrigerator well stocked with containers of liquid refreshment and solid food of varying consistency and color.
Sufa bent over and glanced inside. She shuffled through some of the contents. "I might have known," she said, standing back up. "I'm afraid you have just the standard selection, even though I requested some specialty items. But it doesn't matter. A worker clone will get you anything you might desire." "What do you mean, 'worker clone'?" Suzanne asked. The term sounded ominous. "Worker clones are the workers," Sufa said. "They do all the manual work in Interterra." "Have I seen a worker clone?" Suzanne asked. "Not yet," Sufa said. "They prefer not to be seen until they are called. They favor their own company and their own facilities."
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but it was not in the way Sufa surmised. Suzanne nodded because she knew that in most situations of bigotry, the dominant group always attributed attitudes to the oppressed which made the oppressors feel better about the oppression. "Are these worker clones true clones?" Suzanne asked. "Absolutely," Sufa said. "They've been cloned for ages. Their primary origin was from primitive hominids, something akin to what you people call Neanderthals." "What do you mean, we people?" Suzanne said. "What makes us different from you besides the fact that you are all so gorgeous?"
"Please . . ." Sufa begged.
"I know, I know," Suzanne repeated with frustration. "I'm not supposed to ask any questions, but your answers to even simple questions always demand some explanation." Sufa laughed. "It's confusing you, I'm sure," she said. "But we're just asking you to be patient. As we've intimated, we've learned from experience that it is best to go slowly with the introduction to our world."
"Which means you have had visitors like us in the past," Suzanne said. "For sure," Suzanne said. "We've had many over the last ten thousand years or so." Suzanne's mouth slowly dropped open. "Did you say ten thousand years?"
"Whatever it is you're looking for," Sufa explained. "Followed by an exclamatory word like 'please' or 'now'."
"Food, please!" Suzanne said self-consciously. No sooner had she uttered the words when one of the cabinet doors opened to reveal a sizable refrigerator well stocked with containers of liquid refreshment and solid food of varying consistency and color.
Sufa bent over and glanced inside. She shuffled through some of the contents. "I might have known," she said, standing back up. "I'm afraid you have just the standard selection, even though I requested some specialty items. But it doesn't matter. A worker clone will get you anything you might desire." "What do you mean, 'worker clone'?" Suzanne asked. The term sounded ominous. "Worker clones are the workers," Sufa said. "They do all the manual work in Interterra." "Have I seen a worker clone?" Suzanne asked. "Not yet," Sufa said. "They prefer not to be seen until they are called. They favor their own company and their own facilities."
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but it was not in the way Sufa surmised. Suzanne nodded because she knew that in most situations of bigotry, the dominant group always attributed attitudes to the oppressed which made the oppressors feel better about the oppression. "Are these worker clones true clones?" Suzanne asked. "Absolutely," Sufa said. "They've been cloned for ages. Their primary origin was from primitive hominids, something akin to what you people call Neanderthals." "What do you mean, we people?" Suzanne said. "What makes us different from you besides the fact that you are all so gorgeous?"
"Please . . ." Sufa begged.
"I know, I know," Suzanne repeated with frustration. "I'm not supposed to ask any questions, but your answers to even simple questions always demand some explanation." Sufa laughed. "It's confusing you, I'm sure," she said. "But we're just asking you to be patient. As we've intimated, we've learned from experience that it is best to go slowly with the introduction to our world."
"Which means you have had visitors like us in the past," Suzanne said. "For sure," Suzanne said. "We've had many over the last ten thousand years or so." Suzanne's mouth slowly dropped open. "Did you say ten thousand years?"
"I did," Sufa said. "Prior to that we had no interest in your culture."
"Are you suggesting--"
"Please," Sufa interrupted. She took a deep breath. "No more questions unless they are about your accommodations. I have to insist."
"All right," Suzanne said. "Let's get back to the worker clones. How do I call one?" "A voice command," Sufa said. "It's the same for most everything in Interterra." "I just say 'worker clone'?" Suzanne asked. " 'Worker clone' or just 'worker,' " Sufa said. "Then, of course, it has to be followed by an exclamatory word that you feel comfortable with. But the phrase has to be said as a true exclamation." "I could do it right now?" Suzanne asked. "Of course," Sufa said.
"Worker, please," Suzanne said. She maintained eye contact with Sufa. Nothing happened. "That wasn't enough of an exclamation," Sufa explained. "Try it again." "Worker, please!" Suzanne cried.
"Much better," Sufa said. "But it doesn't have to be so loud. It's not the volume that counts. It's the intended meaning. Humanoids have to know without equivocation that you want them to appear. Their default mode is not to come, so as to be less bothersome." "Did you mean to use the term
humanoid
?" Suzanne asked. "Of course," Sufa said. "Worker clones look very humanlike although they are a fusion of android elements, engineered biomechanical parts, and hominid sections. They are half-machine, half-living organisms who conveniently take care of themselves and even reproduce." Suzanne stared at Sufa with an expression that was a combination of dismay and disbelief. Sufa interpreted it as fear.
"Now, don't worry," Sufa said. "They are very easy to deal with and are inordinately helpful. In fact, they are truly wonderful creatures as you will undoubtedly discover. Their only minor drawback is that, like their particular hominid forebears, they are unable to speak--but they will understand you perfectly." Suzanne continued to stare. Before she could ask another question, one of the doors opposite the cabinets opened and in walked a statuesque woman. Suzanne realized she'd been expecting a grotesque automaton, but the woman before her was hauntingly beautiful with classical features and blond hair, alabaster skin, and dark, penetrating eyes. She was wearing black satin coveralls with long sleeves. "Here is a fine example of a female worker clone," Sufa said. "You'll notice she is wearing a hoop earring. They all wear them for some reason I've never understood, although I believe it has something to do with pride or lineage. You'll also notice that she is rather comely, as are the male versions. But most
"Are you suggesting--"
"Please," Sufa interrupted. She took a deep breath. "No more questions unless they are about your accommodations. I have to insist."
"All right," Suzanne said. "Let's get back to the worker clones. How do I call one?" "A voice command," Sufa said. "It's the same for most everything in Interterra." "I just say 'worker clone'?" Suzanne asked. " 'Worker clone' or just 'worker,' " Sufa said. "Then, of course, it has to be followed by an exclamatory word that you feel comfortable with. But the phrase has to be said as a true exclamation." "I could do it right now?" Suzanne asked. "Of course," Sufa said.
"Worker, please," Suzanne said. She maintained eye contact with Sufa. Nothing happened. "That wasn't enough of an exclamation," Sufa explained. "Try it again." "Worker, please!" Suzanne cried.
"Much better," Sufa said. "But it doesn't have to be so loud. It's not the volume that counts. It's the intended meaning. Humanoids have to know without equivocation that you want them to appear. Their default mode is not to come, so as to be less bothersome." "Did you mean to use the term
humanoid
?" Suzanne asked. "Of course," Sufa said. "Worker clones look very humanlike although they are a fusion of android elements, engineered biomechanical parts, and hominid sections. They are half-machine, half-living organisms who conveniently take care of themselves and even reproduce." Suzanne stared at Sufa with an expression that was a combination of dismay and disbelief. Sufa interpreted it as fear.
"Now, don't worry," Sufa said. "They are very easy to deal with and are inordinately helpful. In fact, they are truly wonderful creatures as you will undoubtedly discover. Their only minor drawback is that, like their particular hominid forebears, they are unable to speak--but they will understand you perfectly." Suzanne continued to stare. Before she could ask another question, one of the doors opposite the cabinets opened and in walked a statuesque woman. Suzanne realized she'd been expecting a grotesque automaton, but the woman before her was hauntingly beautiful with classical features and blond hair, alabaster skin, and dark, penetrating eyes. She was wearing black satin coveralls with long sleeves. "Here is a fine example of a female worker clone," Sufa said. "You'll notice she is wearing a hoop earring. They all wear them for some reason I've never understood, although I believe it has something to do with pride or lineage. You'll also notice that she is rather comely, as are the male versions. But most
importantly, you'll find her amenable to your wishes. Whatever you want, just tell her and she will try to
do it, short of injuring herself."
Suzanne stared into the woman's eyes; they were like dark pools. Her facial features were as sculptured and attractive as Sufa's yet they bore no expression. "Does she have a name?" Suzanne questioned. "Heavens no," Sufa said with a chuckle. "That certainly would complicate things. We wouldn't want to personalize our relationship with workers. That's part of the reason they have never been engineered to speak."
"But she will do what I ask?"
"Absolutely," Sufa said. "Anything at all. She can pick up your clothes, wash them, draw your bath, restock your refrigerator, give you a massage, even change the temperature of the water in your pool. Whatever you want or need."
"At the moment I think it would be best if she left," Suzanne said. She shuddered imperceptibly. The idea of someone being half alive and half machine was disquieting. "Go, please!" Sufa said. The woman turned and left as quietly as she'd appeared. Sufa looked back at Suzanne. "Of course, next time you call for a worker clone it will most likely be a different one. Whoever is available comes."
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but she didn't. "Where do they come from?" "Underground," Sufa said.
"Like in caves?" Suzanne asked.
"I suppose," Sufa said vaguely. "I've never been down there nor do I know anyone else who has. But, enough about worker clones! We have to get you over to the dining hall for your meal. Would you like to swim or bathe? It's entirely up to you, but there isn't an overabundance of time." Suzanne swallowed. Her throat was dry. Given everything she'd been presented with, she found it difficult to make even a simple decision. She looked over at the pool. Its color, now more aquamarine than azure, was as inviting as its gently flickering surface. "Maybe a swim would be a good idea," Suzanne said. "Excellent," Sufa answered. "There are fresh clothes in the cabinet. And shoes, too, I might add." Suzanne nodded.
"I'll wait for you outside," Sufa said. "I have a feeling it would be good for you to be alone for a few minutes to catch your breath."
"I think you are right," Suzanne said.
do it, short of injuring herself."
Suzanne stared into the woman's eyes; they were like dark pools. Her facial features were as sculptured and attractive as Sufa's yet they bore no expression. "Does she have a name?" Suzanne questioned. "Heavens no," Sufa said with a chuckle. "That certainly would complicate things. We wouldn't want to personalize our relationship with workers. That's part of the reason they have never been engineered to speak."
"But she will do what I ask?"
"Absolutely," Sufa said. "Anything at all. She can pick up your clothes, wash them, draw your bath, restock your refrigerator, give you a massage, even change the temperature of the water in your pool. Whatever you want or need."
"At the moment I think it would be best if she left," Suzanne said. She shuddered imperceptibly. The idea of someone being half alive and half machine was disquieting. "Go, please!" Sufa said. The woman turned and left as quietly as she'd appeared. Sufa looked back at Suzanne. "Of course, next time you call for a worker clone it will most likely be a different one. Whoever is available comes."
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but she didn't. "Where do they come from?" "Underground," Sufa said.
"Like in caves?" Suzanne asked.
"I suppose," Sufa said vaguely. "I've never been down there nor do I know anyone else who has. But, enough about worker clones! We have to get you over to the dining hall for your meal. Would you like to swim or bathe? It's entirely up to you, but there isn't an overabundance of time." Suzanne swallowed. Her throat was dry. Given everything she'd been presented with, she found it difficult to make even a simple decision. She looked over at the pool. Its color, now more aquamarine than azure, was as inviting as its gently flickering surface. "Maybe a swim would be a good idea," Suzanne said. "Excellent," Sufa answered. "There are fresh clothes in the cabinet. And shoes, too, I might add." Suzanne nodded.
"I'll wait for you outside," Sufa said. "I have a feeling it would be good for you to be alone for a few minutes to catch your breath."
"I think you are right," Suzanne said.
CHAPTER TEN
The dining room was situated in a building similar in size and shape to the cottages but without a bed. It was also open to the exterior but faced the dramatic central pavilion rather than the expansive lawns and fern thickets. Its long central table was like the one in the decon area's living quarters. The deeply cushioned chaises looked the same, too.
The group had arrived from their separate lodgings at about the same time, in distinctly different moods about their circumstances. Richard and Michael pointedly refused to acknowledge any misgivings. They were completely exhilarated, like two children let loose in the theme park of their dreams and intent on taking advantage of every available perquisite. Perry was also excited about the possibilities inherent in this new world, but he remained outwardly cooler than the giddy divers. Suzanne was still more confused than excited. She continued to toy with the notion that they were experiencing a kind of collective hallucination according to their own predilections. In contrast to everyone else, Donald was sullen, convinced as he was that the whole construct was an elaborate, purposeful delusion toward some nefarious end.
The conversation centered on the saucer ride and the marvels of their accommodations. Richard and Michael were the most animated, particularly after they learned that Suzanne's worker clone had been female. Richard hinted at the desires that might be sated by such a pliant creature. Suzanne was appalled, and let him know in no uncertain terms. "Try to act like you're from a civilized race!"
The food was similar to the fare they had had in the decon quarters, with the same curious variation in perceived taste although it was presented in elaborate, self-serve courses. It was brought out by two extremely handsome men in black satin, long-sleeved overalls that zipped up the front. Each was wearing a hoop earring.
Suddenly Donald threw his gold fork with some force onto his gold platter. The clatter was surprisingly loud in the marbled room as it reverberated off the stone walls. Richard was caught in midsentence, describing the plunge he took in his pool, with his mouth stuffed with what he insisted was a dollop of hot fudge sundae. Suzanne jumped from fright and dropped her own fork with somewhat less of a clatter, emphasizing to herself how tense she was. Michael choked on what he was experiencing as sweet potato pie.
"How can you people eat under these circumstances!" Donald shouted. "What circumstances?" Richard asked, his mouth still brimming with food. His eyes darted rapidly around the room, fearful that the place had been invaded. Donald leaned toward Richard. "What
circumstances
?" he repeated with accentuated derision while shaking his head in scornful wonderment. "The thing I've never been able to understand about saturation divers is whether they have to be stupid in order to be willing to do it, or whether it's the pressure and inert gas that destroys the handful of brain cells they may have had when they started." "What the hell are you talking about?" Michael asked, taking immediate offense. "I'll tell you what I'm talking about," Donald snapped. "Look around you! Where the hell are we? What are we doing here? Who are these people dressed up like they're going to a college toga party?"
The dining room was situated in a building similar in size and shape to the cottages but without a bed. It was also open to the exterior but faced the dramatic central pavilion rather than the expansive lawns and fern thickets. Its long central table was like the one in the decon area's living quarters. The deeply cushioned chaises looked the same, too.
The group had arrived from their separate lodgings at about the same time, in distinctly different moods about their circumstances. Richard and Michael pointedly refused to acknowledge any misgivings. They were completely exhilarated, like two children let loose in the theme park of their dreams and intent on taking advantage of every available perquisite. Perry was also excited about the possibilities inherent in this new world, but he remained outwardly cooler than the giddy divers. Suzanne was still more confused than excited. She continued to toy with the notion that they were experiencing a kind of collective hallucination according to their own predilections. In contrast to everyone else, Donald was sullen, convinced as he was that the whole construct was an elaborate, purposeful delusion toward some nefarious end.
The conversation centered on the saucer ride and the marvels of their accommodations. Richard and Michael were the most animated, particularly after they learned that Suzanne's worker clone had been female. Richard hinted at the desires that might be sated by such a pliant creature. Suzanne was appalled, and let him know in no uncertain terms. "Try to act like you're from a civilized race!"
The food was similar to the fare they had had in the decon quarters, with the same curious variation in perceived taste although it was presented in elaborate, self-serve courses. It was brought out by two extremely handsome men in black satin, long-sleeved overalls that zipped up the front. Each was wearing a hoop earring.
Suddenly Donald threw his gold fork with some force onto his gold platter. The clatter was surprisingly loud in the marbled room as it reverberated off the stone walls. Richard was caught in midsentence, describing the plunge he took in his pool, with his mouth stuffed with what he insisted was a dollop of hot fudge sundae. Suzanne jumped from fright and dropped her own fork with somewhat less of a clatter, emphasizing to herself how tense she was. Michael choked on what he was experiencing as sweet potato pie.
"How can you people eat under these circumstances!" Donald shouted. "What circumstances?" Richard asked, his mouth still brimming with food. His eyes darted rapidly around the room, fearful that the place had been invaded. Donald leaned toward Richard. "What
circumstances
?" he repeated with accentuated derision while shaking his head in scornful wonderment. "The thing I've never been able to understand about saturation divers is whether they have to be stupid in order to be willing to do it, or whether it's the pressure and inert gas that destroys the handful of brain cells they may have had when they started." "What the hell are you talking about?" Michael asked, taking immediate offense. "I'll tell you what I'm talking about," Donald snapped. "Look around you! Where the hell are we? What are we doing here? Who are these people dressed up like they're going to a college toga party?"
For a few minutes there was silence. Everyone avoided Donald's glare. They had been scrupulously
avoiding such questions.
"I know where we are," Richard said finally. "We're in Interterra." "Oh, jeez," Donald exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "We're in Interterra," he repeated. "That explains everything. Well, let me tell you, it tells us nothing. It doesn't tell us where we are or what we're doing here or who these people are. And they now have us conveniently isolated in separate living quarters."
"They said they would tell us all we want to know," Suzanne said. "They asked us to be patient." "Patient!" Donald mocked. "I'll tell you what we're doing here . . . . We're prisoners!" "So what!" Richard said.
Silence reigned again. Michael put down his fork, chastened by Donald's outburst. Richard resumed enjoying his dessert, brazenly staring Donald down. Suzanne and Perry just watched, as did the mute worker clones.
Richard took another large bite of his dessert. With his mouth still full, he said, "If we're prisoners, I want to see how these people treat their friends. I mean, just look at this place. It's fantastic. If you don't want to eat, Fuller, don't! Me, I like this stuff, so screw you!" Donald leaped to his feet with the intention of lunging across the table at Richard. Perry intervened before punches could be thrown.
"All right, you two," Perry yelled. "Stop baiting each other! Let's not fight amongst ourselves. Besides, you're both right. We don't know squat about the what, where, and why we're here, yet we're being treated well. Maybe even too well."
Perry let go of Donald's arm when he felt the man relax and glanced over at the immobile worker clones, wondering if this mild outburst bothered them. But it didn't. Their faces were as immobile and blank as they had been throughout the meal. Donald followed Perry's line of sight while straightening his tunic. "You see what I mean," he growled. "They even have jailors keeping tabs on us while we eat." "I don't think that's the case," Suzanne said. Then in a louder voice, she added, "Workers, go, please!" Without any acknowledgment of Suzanne's command the two worker clones disappeared through one of the three doors leading from the dining lodge. "So much for the watchful eyes of the attendants," Suzanne said. "Ah, that doesn't mean a thing," Donald said. His eyes roamed the chamber. "There's probably hidden mikes and camcorders all over this room." "Hey," Michael said. "Looking at this dish and fork, I've been wondering. Is this stuff real gold or what?"
avoiding such questions.
"I know where we are," Richard said finally. "We're in Interterra." "Oh, jeez," Donald exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "We're in Interterra," he repeated. "That explains everything. Well, let me tell you, it tells us nothing. It doesn't tell us where we are or what we're doing here or who these people are. And they now have us conveniently isolated in separate living quarters."
"They said they would tell us all we want to know," Suzanne said. "They asked us to be patient." "Patient!" Donald mocked. "I'll tell you what we're doing here . . . . We're prisoners!" "So what!" Richard said.
Silence reigned again. Michael put down his fork, chastened by Donald's outburst. Richard resumed enjoying his dessert, brazenly staring Donald down. Suzanne and Perry just watched, as did the mute worker clones.
Richard took another large bite of his dessert. With his mouth still full, he said, "If we're prisoners, I want to see how these people treat their friends. I mean, just look at this place. It's fantastic. If you don't want to eat, Fuller, don't! Me, I like this stuff, so screw you!" Donald leaped to his feet with the intention of lunging across the table at Richard. Perry intervened before punches could be thrown.
"All right, you two," Perry yelled. "Stop baiting each other! Let's not fight amongst ourselves. Besides, you're both right. We don't know squat about the what, where, and why we're here, yet we're being treated well. Maybe even too well."
Perry let go of Donald's arm when he felt the man relax and glanced over at the immobile worker clones, wondering if this mild outburst bothered them. But it didn't. Their faces were as immobile and blank as they had been throughout the meal. Donald followed Perry's line of sight while straightening his tunic. "You see what I mean," he growled. "They even have jailors keeping tabs on us while we eat." "I don't think that's the case," Suzanne said. Then in a louder voice, she added, "Workers, go, please!" Without any acknowledgment of Suzanne's command the two worker clones disappeared through one of the three doors leading from the dining lodge. "So much for the watchful eyes of the attendants," Suzanne said. "Ah, that doesn't mean a thing," Donald said. His eyes roamed the chamber. "There's probably hidden mikes and camcorders all over this room." "Hey," Michael said. "Looking at this dish and fork, I've been wondering. Is this stuff real gold or what?"
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