“Do I look all right?” she asked, turning slowly. Women only ask that when they know the answer. She was wearing something black, tight, expensive, with matching hat and even more expensive jewelry. “Are you sure that this can’t be detected?” she asked, touching the tiny diamond brooch pinned at her throat.

“Only under a microscope—and you would have to know what to look for,” I said. “The center diamond is the lens. I usually wear it as a shirt dress stud. I’ve added the jeweled setting to make it into a more exotic piece of jewelry so that you can wear it. The diamond lens focuses the image onto a series of nanoformed recording molecules that are carried beneath the lens by Brownian movement, which is energized by body heat so there is no detectable power source. Don’t worry about the light level since, like the human eye, it can perceive as little as one photon of light energy. What you see, it will see—and record.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like it before.” “Nor has your boss, Inskipp,” James said proudly. “It’s one of Dad’s inventions.” “However all this turns out you can keep it,” I said. “I’ll give you the developing and printing module later.” “It’s the only one in existence,” Bolivar said.

“I—I don’t quite know how to thank you.” The emotion in her voice was not faked, that was certain. She left quickly.

Moments later we saw her stroll across the street and walk through the door of the church.

A heavy tropical rain was falling, lit by sudden flashes of lightning; thunder rumbled. The Church of the Seekers of the Way was blurred, its outline barely visible through the wet glass. The image from the camera was clear enough, but standing at the window I could see little or nothing. Sybil had been inside the building with Slakey for over an hour. The room was closing in on me.

“I’m going out,” I said, pulling on a billed cap with the logo Cocaine—Cola spelled out on the front.

“You’ll get soaked,” Bolivar said. “It’ll look suspicious if you lurk about near the church,” James added. I twisted my lip in a sneer.

“Thanks for the solicitude—but your old Dad is not quite senile yet. This cap not only advertises a repulsive drink, it also contains a hydro—repeller field—and I was lurking unseen near churches before you were born.”

When they didn’t even smile at my strained witticism I knew that they were as uptight as I—was. I needed the air. The hotel lobby was empty—of human life that is. The managerbot bowed and dry—wiped its gloved hands for me. The doormanbot pulled open the door as I approached and drops of rain blew in dotting it’s metal features.

“A filthy night, sir,” it smarmed. “But it will be a sunny day for sure tomorrow, begorra.” “Is that what you are programmed to say whenever it rains?” I snarled. “Yes, sir, a filthy night, sir, but it will be a sunny day for sure tomorrow, begorra.”

My nerves must be going if I was trying to have a conversation with a mindless robot. I went out, bone—dry of course as the electrostatic field repelled the raindrops. Angelina….

The pain in my chest, my throat, was real. I had been putting all thought of her out of mind—or I wouldn’t have been able to function. But she was there at the edge of my consciousness all of the time. I let her in for the moment, relished the memory. Remembering how many times she had saved my life; keeping weapons tucked in with the twins in their baby carriage had been most important more than once. With what joy we had held up banks, relished the excitement—not to mention the money. And the way we saved the universe together, defeating all of those slimy monsters! Memories, memories. We had had our low moments, but at this moment I wanted to be like the inscription on the sundial. And record only the sunny hours. And the fun…

I cut off this train of thought. Feeling sorry would not help—only action could get her back. That was why I was here, the boys as well, and this was the reason why Sybil was possibly risking her life. This was going to work. It had to work.

My walk was not without a purpose; I had seen a cafe just across the square from the Church of the Seekers of the Way.

It had a rowof tables outside protected by an awning. And a hydro—repeller field as well I realized as I entered; this field and mine flickered with glints of light where they interacted. I touched the brim of my cap and turned mine off, sat at a table with a clear view of the church.

“Welcome, welcome, sir or madam,” the table candle said as its wick flickered and lit up.

“Sir, not madam.” “How can we be of service… sir not madam?”

The world was full of moronic robots and computers tonight. “Bring beer. Big, cold.”

“Delighted to be of service, sir not madam.”

The table vibrated, then a hatch slid back and the beer emerged. I reached for it but could not lift it. “Two kropotniks, fifty,” a colder mechanical voice said. I pushed three coins into the slot and the clamp on the glass was released. “Thank you for the tip,” the voice said, keeping my change. I drowned my incipient growl with a swig of beer.

The rain lashed down on the square, thunder rumbled in the distance. An occasional car swished by; the door to the Church of the Seekers of the Way remained closed. The beer was flat.

I waited.

Time passed. I finished the first beer and ordered another one.

“Two kropotniks, seventy,” the table said.

“Why? The last beer was two fifty.”

“That was during the happy hour. Pay.” I fed in the exact amount this time and the glass was released. “Cheapskate,” the computer muttered and emitted an electronicraspberry

The rain finally slackened, stopped, and one of Vulkann’s three moons appeared briefly through a gap in the clouds. Then there was flicker of movement across the way and three women emerged from the church. They talked together for a moment before separating. Sybil came towards me and I felt a certain relaxation; at least she was safe. She did not look at me but must have been aware of my presence because she turned and entered the cafe. I took a few minutes to sip my beer. She did not appear to have been followed. I finished my drink, put the glass down and went inside. She was in one of the rear booths with a cocktail glass before her; she nodded slightly and I went to join her. She took a large swallow, then a second one—and sighed. “Jim, that was an experience I find difficult to describe. There were three of us and we joined Father Marablis—or Father Slakey—I’m beginning to be unsure of a lot of things. There were no machines that I could see. He talked to us for a bit then touched his hand to my forehead. Something happened. I can’t tell you what. I didn’t black out or anything like that. I can only repeat what Viviia VonBrun said—it was indescribable. But I can clearly remember what happened next. We were walking through a field of very short grass, following Marablis. He stopped and pointed upwards and at the same moment I heard the sound of chimes, most distinctly. He was pointing to a white cloud that drifted towards us. The chimes, the music, was coming from the cloud and when I heard it I felt, well, an elation of some kind. Some sort of spiritual upwelling. Then—and don’t laugh—I swear I saw a little flying creature behind the cloud. Just a glimpse.”

“A bird?”

“No… a tiny pink baby with little wings on its shoulders. Then it was gone and it was over.”

“Just like that?”

“I—I just don’t know. I remember that Marablis touched my arm, turning me, and! was back in that room in the church again along with the other women. I felt, well just sad, as though I had lost something very previous.”

There was little I could say. She had a distant look in her eyes, looking at something I could not see. A tear ran down her cheek and she sniffed, wiped at it and smiled. “Sorry. I’m not being much help. I know it has to be a con of some kind. I don’t believe in day trips to Heaven. But something did happen to me. My emotions, they are real.”