“I know, but…”

“May I say something?” It was Hak’s voice.

Ponter looked down at his left forearm. “Sure.”

“You know I usually stay out of these things,” said the Companion. “But there is a factor you are not considering.”

“Oh?”

Hak switched to Ponter’s cochlear implants. “You may wish me to say this in private.”

“Nonsense,” said Ponter. “I have no secrets from Adikor.”

“Very well,” said Hak, switching back to the external speaker. “Scholar Vaughan is recovering from a traumatic experience. Her emotions and behavior of late may be atypical.”

Adikor tipped his head. “What traumatic experience? I mean, I know that eating a meal Ponter has helped prepare can be pretty devastating, but…”

“Mare was raped,” said Ponter. “Back in her own world. Just before I came there.”

“Oh,” said Adikor, immediately sobering. “What did they do to the guy who raped her?”

“Nothing. He got away.”

“How could he possibly—”

Ponter raised his left arm. “No Companions. No justice.”

“Marrowless bone,” said Adikor. “What a world they must live in.”

The next day, Mary walked down the corridor of the laboratory building, stepping aside to make room for one of the spindly robots that darted about the corners of Neanderthal society. She wondered for a moment about the economics of this world. They had AI, and they had robots. But they also had what amounted to cab drivers; clearly not all jobs that could be automated had been automated.

Mary continued on, until she came to the room Lurt was working in. “Were you planning to take a break anytime soon?” asked Mary, knowing how much she herself hated to be interrupted when work was going well.

Lurt glanced at the display on her Companion, presumably noting the time. “Sure,” she said.

“Good,” said Mary. “Can we go for a walk? I need to talk.”

Mary and Lurt stepped out into the daylight. Lurt adopted the posture Mary had seen frequently now amongst Neanderthals, slightly tipping her head forward so that her browridge provided maximal shading for her eyes. Mary held one hand above her own flat brow, trying to achieve the same effect. Although she had weightier matters on her mind, having forgotten her FosterGrants back on the other side was getting to be a nuisance. “Do your people have sunglasses?” asked Mary.

“If they need them. We have them for our daughters, too.”

Mary smiled. “No, no, no.” She pointed up. “Sunglasses. Glasses that are tinted to block out some of the sunlight.”

“Ah,” said Lurt. “Yes, such things are available, although we call them”—she had spoken continuously, but there was a pause in the translation, as Mary’s Companion considered how to interpret what Lurt had said—“snow-glare shields.”

Mary understood immediately. Browridges were all well and good for shielding against light from above, and although the broad face and wide nose probably helped shield the deep-set eyes from light reflected off the ground, there would still be times when tinted glasses would be useful.

“Is it possible I could get a pair?”

“You need two of them?” asked Lurt.

“Um, no. We, ah, we refer to glasses in the plural—you know, because there are two lenses.”

Lurt shook her head, but it was in a good-humored way. “You might as well refer to a pair of ‘pants,’ then,” she said. “After all, they have two legs.”

Mary decided not to pursue that. “In any event, is it possible to get a ‘snow-glare shield’ for me?”

“Certainly. There is a lens grinder just over there.”

But Mary hesitated. “I don’t have any money—any way to pay for them. I mean, for it.”

Lurt gestured at Mary’s forearm, and, after a moment Mary realized that she was indicating the strapped-on Companion. Mary presented her forearm to Lurt’s inspection. She pulled a couple of the tiny control buds on it, and watched as symbols danced across its display.

“As I thought,” said Lurt. “This Companion is tied to Ponter’s account. You may acquire anything you wish, and he will be billed for it.”

“Really? Wow.”

“Come, the lens grinder’s shop is over here.”

Lurt crossed a wide strip of tall grass, and Mary followed. She felt a certain guilt spending Ponter’s money, given what she wanted to talk to Lurt about, but she was getting a headache, and she didn’t want to have so sensitive a conversation within earshot of Lurt’s coworkers. No, more than that: Mary was becoming savvy in the ways of Neanderthals. She knew that when they were indoors or when the wind was still, a Neanderthal could tell much about what the person she was with was thinking or feeling simply by inhaling his or her pheromones. Mary felt disadvantaged, and naked, under such circumstances. But there was a good breeze today, and while she and Lurt walked, Lurt would have to take Mary’s words at face value.

They entered the building Lurt had indicated. It was a large facility, made out of three shaped trees close enough together that their branches intertwined into a single canopy overhead.

Mary was surprised by what she saw. She’d expected some alternate-world LensCrafters, devoted to eyewear, but so much of the eyewear business was driven by mercurial fashion in frames, and the Neanderthals, with their conserving natures, didn’t go in for fads. Also, with a smaller population, infinite specialization of work apparently wasn’t possible. This lens grinder made all manner of optics. Her shop was filled with what were clearly telescopes, microscopes, cameras, projectors, magnifying glasses, flashlights, and more. Mary tried to take it all in, sure that Lilly, Kevin, and Frank would barrage her with questions about it when she returned to the Synergy Group.

An elderly Neanderthal woman emerged. Mary tested herself, trying to identify the female’s generation. She looked to be getting on to seventy, so that would make her—let’s see—a142. The woman’s eyes went wide at the sight of Mary, but she quickly recovered. “Healthy day,” she said.

“Healthy day,” responded Lurt. “This is my friend Mare.”

“Yes, indeed,” said the 142. “From the other universe! My favorite Exhibitionist has been catching glimpses of you ever since you arrived.”

Mary shuddered.

“Mare needs a snow-glare shield,” said Lurt.

The woman nodded and disappeared into the back of her shop for a moment. When she returned, she was holding a pair of dark lenses—dark blue, they seemed to be, not the green or amber Mary was used to—attached to a wide band that looked liked the elastic out of a pair of Fruit of the Looms. “Try these on,” she said.

Mary took the offered lenses, but wasn’t sure exactly how to wear them. Lurt laughed. “Like this,” she said, taking the contraption from Mary and stretching the elastic until she was able to get it easily over Mary’s head. “Normally, the band would fit in here,” said Lurt, running her finger along the furrow between her own prominent browridge and forehead. “That would keep them from slipping down.”

And, indeed, the band did seem to want to slip down. The lens maker clearly realized this. “Let me get you one for a child,” she said, disappearing into the back.

Mary tried not to be embarrassed. Gliksins had tall heads; Neanderthals had long ones. The woman returned with another pair, one with a less generous elastic band. These seemed to fit snugly.

“You can flip the lenses up or down, as needed,” said the woman, demonstrating for Mary.

“Thank you. Umm, how do I…?”

“Pay for it?” provided Lurt, smiling. “Just walk out of the shop; your account will be billed.”

That was one way to deal with shoplifters, thought Mary. “Thank you,” she said, and she and Lurt headed outdoors again. With the lenses down, Mary found it much more comfortable, although the blue cast to everything made her feel even colder than she already did. As she and Lurt walked along, Mary broached the topic she wanted to talk about.