Free Ballroom of the Skies by John D. MacDonald

oiled anthracite. He wore lemon-yellow bathing trunks, and had a glass in his hand.
    He waved casually. “How’s it going, Karen? Come on out. Who’s your friend?”
    They went out by the pool. “Don’t you recognize him, Mig? It’s Dake Lorin.”
Is this going to be one or two credits? I broke down a Stage Two.
    Miguel reached up with a languid hand. “Nice to know you, Mr. Lorin.”
I suppose you were too busy congratulating yourself to scan properly. Take another look and see why it’s only one credit for not seeing the obvious.
    “I was telling Dake how you always liked his stuff, Mig.”
All right, so I missed it. But when you assign two and they assign five, it keeps you busy. I see what you mean. Carelessness. Something about a fingernail.
    “I’ve missed your column, Mr. Lorin. Used to get a charge out of it, the way you hacked at everybody.”
Yes, they should have had somebody there ready with an illusion, checking to see if Lorin accepted the doll.
“Have a drink, folks? Sit down.”
    They took poolside chairs. “Gee, I’d go for a collins. How about you, Dake?”
Are you getting what I’m getting, Miguel? He’s balanced on the edge. It’s a little beyond his credibility, and he is wondering about his own sanity.
    Miguel pushed a button. The servant appeared almost at once. He gave the orders.
So we must be very careful, girl. A little push might send him over the edge. Once we use him, maybe we can run a check and see. But I don’t think he’d make it. Rigidity there. Father image. Streak of the Puritan. Somber messiah. They seldom check through. Too dependent on the nature of reality.
    “Hasn’t Mig got a nice place here, Dake?”
Don’t forget the quota. He might do very nicely.
    “I guess I could be classified as unemployed right now, Mr. Larner,” Dake said. “I’ve been working for the government for a year. And today my … superior died. A bit suddenly. It was sort of unofficial employment, so I guess that ends it.”
    “Weren’t you working for Branson?” Miguel asked.
    “Why, yes! How did you know that?”
    “I got sources. I have to keep in touch. AnythingBranson did might effect imports and exports. And anything that effects those, changes my income. You got any plans, Mr. Lorin?”
    “I’m writing a newspaper article for Thursday publication.”
    “Hot?”
    “It would have been hotter if Mr. Branson hadn’t died. It will probably be classified as a Disservice to the State.”
    “Putting your head in the noose, eh?”
    “I suppose you could call it that. It just seems … more important than what can happen to me. Trouble, though, is that it’s critical of Darwin Branson. He’s the man who died today.”
    “You need a place to work?”
    “Thanks, no. A man is letting me use an office.”
    “If it doesn’t work out, I got a place here you can use. A nice setup.”
Do you want to fix Kelly, girl? Now that we have him here I want him to stay.
    “This would be a nice quiet place to work, Dake,” Karen said.
Let Dale do it. I’ve been outside too long. It made hash of my nerves, Miguel. See how restless he is getting? He wants to leave.
    “I changed my mind, Karen,” Miguel said. “This is easier. I just put him under full control.”
    She looked quickly at Lorin, saw the automaton rigidity of his posture, the eyes in trance.
But how can you
…
    “Aloud, please. Para-voice is an insidious habit on tour. The easiest way to keep him here is to take full control. Let him believe he went back to Kelly and Kelly changed his mind and gave him a refund of his money, and backed out. Then we’ll release him up above in the lobby with the idea he has come here to take up my offer. It just seems simpler. Ready now, and I’ll turn him over to you. Take him to one of the rooms upstairs and give him the complete memory pattern of seeing Kelly and coming back here at, say, nine this evening. Leave him in stasis up there and then you can rest and take him up to the