Free This Perfect Day by Ira Levin Page B

mention it,” and “You’re welcome, Chip,” and “Glad to be of help.” Something sounded strange, and then—as Snowflake led him from the room—he realized what it was: the not-being-said of “Thank Uni.”
    They walked slowly, Snowflake holding his arm not like a nurse but like a girl walking with her first boyfriend.
    “It’s hard to believe,” he said, “that what I can feel now and see now—isn’t all there is.”
    “It isn’t,” she said. “Not even half. You’ll find out.”
    “I hope so.”
    “You will. I’m sure of it.”
    He smiled and said, “Were you sure about those two who tried and didn’t make it?”
    “No,” she said. Then, “Yes, I was sure of one, but not of the other.”
    “What’s step two?” he asked.
    “First get through step one.”
    “Are there more than two?”
    “No. Two, if it works, gets you a major reduction. That’s when you really come alive. And speaking of steps, there are three right ahead of us, going up.”
    They went up the three steps and walked on. They were back in the plaza. It was perfectly silent, with even the breeze gone.
    “The fucking’s the best part,” Snowflake said. “It gets much better, much more intense and exciting, and you’ll be able to do it almost every night.”
    “It’s incredible.”
    “And please remember,” she said, “that I’m the one who found you. If I catch you even looking at Sparrow I’ll kill you.”
    Chip started, and told himself not to be foolish.
    “Excuse me,” she said; “I’ll act aggressively toward you. Maxi-aggressively.”
    “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m not shocked.”
    “Not much.”
    “What about Lilac?” he said. “May I look at her?”
    “All you want; she loves King.”
    “Oh?”
    “With a pre-U passion. He’s the one who started the group; first her, then Leopard and Hush, then me, then Sparrow.”
    Their footsteps became louder and resonant. She stopped him. “We’re here,” she said. He felt her fingers picking at the side of the bandage; he lowered his head. She began unwinding, peeling bandage from margins of skin that turned instantly cool. She unwound more and more and finally took the cotton from his eyes. He blinked them and stretched them wide.
    She was close to him and moonlit, looking at him in a way that seemed challenging while she thrust bandage into her medicenter coveralls. Somehow she had got her pale mask back on—but it wasn’t a mask, he saw with a shock; it was her face. She was light. Lighter than any member he had ever seen, except a few near-sixty ones. She was almost white. Almost as white as snow.
    “Mask neatly in place,” she said.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “That’s all right,” she said, and smiled. “We’re all odd in one way or another. Look at that eye.” She was thirty-five or so, sharp-featured and intelligent-looking, her hair freshly clipped.
    “I’m sorry,” he said again.
    “I said it’s all right.”
    “Are you supposed to let me see what you look like?”
    “I’ll tell you something,” she said. “If you don’t come through I don’t give a fight if the whole bunch of us get normalized. In fact, I think I’d prefer it.” She took his head in both hands and kissed him, her tongue prying at his lips. It slid in and flickered in his mouth. She held his head tight, pushed her groin against his, and rubbed circularly. He felt a responsive stiffening and put his hands to her back. He worked his tongue tentatively against hers.
    She withdrew her mouth. “Considering that it’s the middle of the week,” she said, “I’m encouraged.”
    “Christ, Marx, Wood, and Wei,” he said. “Is that how you all kiss?”
    “Only me, brother,” she said, “only me.”
    They did it again.
    “Go on home now,” she said. “Don’t touch scanners.”
    He backed away from her. “I’ll see you next month,” he said.
    “You fighting well better had,” she said. “Good luck.”
    He went out into the plaza and