‘On Tertius.'

‘Where's Ontershus? Canada? Hmm, you say you have a money problem. What'll you take for Pixel, cash in hand? My little girl would love him:

(I didn't swindle him. I could have but I didn't. Pixel can't be sold - he can't stay sold - because he can't be locked up. For him, stone walls do not a prison make.)

‘Oh, I'm sorry! I can't sell him; he's not mine. He's a member of the family of my grandson - one of my grandsons - and his wife. But Colin and Hazel would never sell him. They can't sell him; they don't own him. No one owns him; Pixel is a free citizen:

‘So? Then perhaps I can bribe him. How about ir, Pixel? Lots of horse liver, fresh fish, cat nibbles, all you want. Plenty of friendly girl cats around and we'll leave your spark plugs right where they are. Well?'

Pixel gave the restless wiggle that means ‘Let me down,' so I did. He sniffed the doctor's legs, then brushed against him. ‘Nnnow?' he enquired.

Dr Ridpath said to me, ‘You should have accepted my offer. I seem to have acquired a cat.'

‘I wouldn't bet on it, Doctor. Pixel likes to travel but he always comes back to my grandson Colin. Colonel Colin Campbell. And his wife Hazel.'

For the first time Dr Ridpath really looked at me. ‘"Grandson." "Colonel." Miss, you're hallucinating.'

(I suddenly realized how it looked to him. Before I left Tertius, Ishtar had given me a booster treatment-it had been fifty-two years - and Galahad had given me a cosmetic refresher and had overdone it. Galahad likes ‘em young, especially redheads - he keeps my twin daughters permanent teenagers, and now we three look like triplets. Galahad cheats. Except for Theodore, Galahad is my favorite husband, but I shan't let anyone find out.)

‘Yes, I must be hallucinating,' I agreed. ‘I don't know where I am, I don't know what day this is, I don't know what became of my clothes or my money or my purse, and I don't know how I got here... save that I was in an irrelevancy bus for New Liverpool and there was an accident of some sort. If Pixel were not still with me, I would wonder if I were me.'

Dr Ridpath reached down; Pixel allowed himself to be picked up. ‘What was that bus you mentioned?'

‘A Burroughs shifter. I was on Tellus Tertius at Boondock on time line two at Galactic year 2149, or Gregorian 4368 if you like that better. I was scheduled for New Liverpool in time line two, where I was to base for a field trip. But something went wrong.'

‘Ah, so. Hmm. And you have a grandson who is a colonel?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘And how old are you?'

‘That depends on how you count it, Doctor. I was born on Earth in time line two of the Fourth of July, 1882. I lived there until 1982, one century minus two weeks, whereupon I moved to Tertius and was rejuvenated. That was fifty-two years ago by my personal calendar. I've had a booster just recently, which made me younger than I should be-I prefer to be mature rather than girlish. But I do have grandchildren, lots of them.'

‘Interesting. Will you come down to my office with me?'

‘You think I'm out of my head.'

He was not quick to answer. ‘Let me put it this way. One of us is hallucinating. Tests may show which one. Besides that, I have an exceptionally cynical office nurse who can, without tests, almost certainly spot which one of us has slipped his clutch. Will you come?'

‘Yes, certainly. And thank you, sir. But I've got to find some clothes first. I can't very well leave this room until I do.' (I wasn't certain that this was true. That crowd that had just left obviously did not have the attitudes on ‘indecent exposure' that were commonplace in Missouri when I was born. On the other hand, where I now lived on Tertius nudity at home was unremarkable and it didn't cause any excitement even in the most public places - like overalls at a wedding: unusual but nothing to stare at.)

‘Oh. But Festival is about to start.'

‘"Festival?" Doctor, I'm a stranger in a strange land; that is what I've been trying to say.'

‘Uh - Our biggest holiday is about to start. Starts at sundown, theoretically, but there are many who jump the gun. By now the boulevard out front will have quite a percentage of naked people, already drunk and looking for partners.'

‘Partners for what?' I tried to sound innocent. I'm not much for orgies. All those knees and elbows -

‘What do you think? It's a fertility rite, my dear girl, to ensure fat crops. And fat bellies for that matter. By now, any virgins left in this fair city are locked up.' He added, ‘But you won't be bothered simply going with me to my office... and I promise I'II find you some sort of clothing. A coverall. A nurse's uniform. Something. Does that suit you?'

‘Thank you, Doctor. Yes!'

‘If I were you and I was still jumpy, I would look for a big beach towel in that bathroom, and make a caftan out of it. If you can, do it in three minutes. Don't dilly-dally, dolly; I've got to get back to the grind.'

‘Yessir!' I hurried into the bathroom.

It really was a bathroom, not a refresher. When I had searched the suite for clothing, I had noticed a stack of Turkish towels in there. Now I looked more closely and spotted two that bulged fat in that stack. I worked one out and unfolded it. Eureka! A towel fit for a rich South American, one at least six feet long and three feet wide. A razor blade from the medicine chest placed a slit big enough for my head span down the center. Now to find something, anything, to tie around my waist.

While I was doing this, a human head appeared in front of - in place of, rather - the hairdryer. A head female and rather pretty. No body. During my first century this would have made me jumpy. Today I'm used to realistic holos.

‘I've been trying to catch you alone,' the head said in an organlike baritone. ‘I speak for the Committee for Aesthetic Deletions. We seem to have caused you some inconvenience. For that we are truly sorry.'

‘You should be! What became of that baby?'

‘Never mind the baby. We'll be in touch.' It flickered.

‘Hey! Wait!' But I was talking to the hairdryer.

Dr Ridpath looked up from scratching Pixel's chin. ‘Five minutes and forty seconds.'

I'm sorry to be late but I was interrupted. A head appeared and spoke to me. Does that happen often around here? Or am I hallucinating again?'

‘You really do seem to be a stranger here. That's a telephone. Like this - Telephone, please!'

A head appeared in a frame that had contained a rather dull still life, a male head in this case. ‘Your call, sir?'

‘Cancel.' The head blinked out. ‘Like that?'

‘Yes. But a girl.'

‘Of course. You're female and the call reached you in a bathroom, so the computer displayed a head matching your sex. The computer matches lip movements to words... but the visual stays an impersonal animation unless you elect to be seen. Same for the caller.'

‘I see. A hologram.'

‘Yes. Come along.' He added, ‘You look quite fetching in that towel but you looked still better in your skin.'

‘Thank you.' We went out into the hotel corridor; Pixel cut back and forth in front of us. ‘Doctor, what is "The Committee for Aesthetic Deletions"?'

‘Huh?' He sounded surprised. ‘Assassins. Criminal nihilists. Where did you hear of them?'

‘That head I saw in the bathroom. That telephone.' I repeated the call, word for word, I think.

‘Hmm. Interesting.' He did not say another word until we reached his office suite, ten storeys down on the mezzanine.

We ran across several hotel guests who had ‘jumped the gun'. Most were naked save for domino masks but several wore full masks - of animals or birds, or abstract fantasy. One couple were dressed most gaudily in nothing but paint. I was glad that I had my terry cloth caftan.

When we reached Dr Ridpath's office suite, I hung back in the waiting-room while he went on into an inner room, preceded by Pixel. The doctor left the door open; I could hear and see. His office nurse was standing, her back to us, talking ‘on the telephone' - a talking head. There appeared to be no one else in the suite. Nevertheless I was mildly surprised to find that she had joined the epidemic of skin; she was wearing shoes, minipanties, a nurse's cap, and had a nurse's white uniform over one arm as if caught by the phone while she was undressing. Or changing. She was a tall and slender brunette. I could not see her face.