The title floated in the shimmer-door: Public Affairs Department / Arts Division. Above the title glowed the Company insigne: three intersecting, electric blue tetrahedrons. Most of the offices were empty; it was late in the day. But in the rear office, a young man and two women were standing beside the arts director's desk.
"This is what you'd be working on," Pali George said, clicking a switch. A large holo-image glowed to life in the air before her desk. It was an abstract figure of milky white light, swirling and twisting within a background of darkness. "This is a sketch I put together myself, using some graphics routines and file shots of stardrive effects. Obviously I'm no artist, but it should give you the general idea."
She turned to the dark-haired young man, a gnostic designer named Sage DeWeiler, who was seeing the image for the first time. There was no immediate reaction on his face except the nervousness that had been there from the start. Pali glanced at her assistant, Kyd Metango, but she too was watching Sage. Kyd was a petitely slender woman with sparkling green eyes and blond hair cut in a rakish wave, longer on the right side than the left. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Sage.
Pali looked back at the wiry young man, who was scratching his neck thoughtfully. He spoke without turning. "A sculpture, you say?"
Pali sighed patiently. "Right," she repeated. "A kinetic light-sculpture composed of a quark-matrix field. It'll float in orbit near one of the space cities. Picture us standing where people would be, looking out at it."
Sage nodded. "It'll be big, then." He turned, squinting at her.
Pali bobbed her head in assent. "It'll be big." Kyd, she thought, I hope you know what you're doing. It had been Kyd's idea to borrow Sage from the records department as their gnostic designer. Kyd claimed he was brilliant—or at least had potential. Pali's impression, based on prior encounters, was that he was flat-out lazy. Nevertheless, she'd promised to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't know what the structure to project it will look like," she said. "That's one thing we need to learn. But the idea is to use the stardrive components to create a self-maintaining energy field. We'll commission an artist to design the actual sculpture, and of course we'll need a physicist to help determine if it can really be done."
"What do you think?" Kyd asked Sage.
For a moment, he simply continued staring at the twisting image, scratching his head. Pali and Kyd exchanged impatient glances; Kyd made a covert gesture of encouragement. "You won't need a physicist," Sage said suddenly, turning.
"I beg your pardon?" Pali blinked in surprise. "We're talking about doing something pretty sophisticated here." She had described the idea once to a Company physicist, who had told her that it might work, but then again, it might not. Who was Sage to tell her—?
"Sure, but the physicists won't know any more about it than the gnostic system," Sage said. "Whatever you need, the system can handle it."
Pali's gaze traveled to Kyd, who raised her eyebrows in mystification. "Are you sure of that?"
"Sure I'm sure." Sage sounded irritated. "You know, everyone thinks we have all these genius scientists. But it's really the system that does half their work. Most of their work. They'd be lost without it."
"Are you saying"—Pali cleared her throat—"that you can get the gnosys to handle the entire theoretical analysis for us?"
"Sure." He frowned at the holo. "Be a pretty big job, though. I don't know if I really . . ." His words trailed off and he shrugged listlessly.
Kyd prompted him. "What, Sage?"
He mumbled something inaudible. Kyd prompted him again, and he answered with, "What's this for again?"
Pali closed her eyes and opened them slowly. "It's for our arts fulfillment," she said, striving for patience. "You know about that, right?" Of course he did. But there was no need to tell him the whole thing: that her department had just two weeks to commit thirty million in grants before the Company was in violation of the arts-fulfillment laws—and that it was only in desperation, with no time to find outside applicants, that she'd even considered putting forward her own proposal.
"Uh-huh," Sage said.
"Well, this is just preliminary. We'd be borrowing you from your department until it's more fully developed and—ultimately, we hope—approved."
Sage rubbed his eyes, nodding. Kyd asked softly, "Do you think you might like to work on it, Sage?"
He looked up as though startled to find himself the object of the question. He blushed a little. "Well, I—"
Kyd added, "You did say that things were slow down in records."
"Well . . . it's mostly self-maintaining now."
"Because you set it up that way," Kyd pointed out. "Did you know, Pali, that Sage redesigned the whole system down there?"
Sage's face reddened. "I was just making my job easier."
"Well, it showed initiative," Kyd said. "And I think you could handle this job too, if you wanted to. Do you want to?"
The young designer looked down at his hands and swallowed. "I—well—" He softened under Kyd's gaze. "I guess so," he murmured finally.
Pali blinked in wonder. She'd been sure that he would say no. She was never going to understand the effect that Kyd had on men. Maybe it was those green eyes of hers—men seemed to fall for them instantly. Maybe it was pheromones. Whatever, it worked. She cleared her throat. "Shall we consider you on board, then—at least for now?"
Sage nodded. When Pali put out her hand, he shook it limply. "I think I'd better be going," he said.
"All right. Thanks for coming by." Pali watched as Sage trailed out of the office. She took a deep breath and stared at the holo-sketch as Kyd closed the door and came back to stand beside her. "Kyd, I do hope you're right about him," she murmured.
"Pali, I know he's a little—"
"Honestly, Kyd!" She turned to the younger woman. "I've never seen anyone so—" She groped for words. "I mean, he didn't exactly stampede us with his enthusiasm."
"He's just insecure and a little unmotivated. But I really think it's just a matter of—"
"I know, I know. Lighting a fire under him."
"Well, yes." Kyd tipped her head, gazing at Pali earnestly. Her blond hair fell to one side, brushing across her eyes until she straightened her head. "And he knows more science than you would think, from where he works. He has no corporate ambitions—but he has talent."
Pali laughed and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay! Anyway, we've hired him, so let's just hope he works out. You can be his handler." The smile fell from her lips as she walked behind her desk and stared at the view there of the city, from high in the Company tower.
"Pali, what's wrong?"
Pali shook her head. "It's nothing."
"Bull. You're upset."
Pali sighed. "You haven't been in the department-heads meetings lately. Those bastards. They wouldn't release the funds before, when it might have helped. But now they're making it all our problem. Suddenly all they care about is that the Justice Department is waiting to lower the boom because they haven't spent the money."
"Well, they can hardly blame you," Kyd said.
Pali let the comment pass. Of course they could blame her; they were already blaming her. They had no appreciation for how long it took to put together a program like this. She chuckled bitterly. "If this project is a flop, you may be the new Arts Director." She turned to Kyd. "I'm not even sure if they'll consider this proposal."
"They should. It'd be a great public-relations move. Company-made components in a huge orbital sculpture? It's perfect."
"But it's not exactly by the book."
"You mean because it's your proposal, instead of an outside submission?" Pali nodded. Kyd ran her fingers through her sandy blond hair. It fell back without a strand being misplaced. "That shouldn't matter, Pali—as long as there's an outside artist and it's a public piece."
"Ah, they're rule-worshipers," Pali murmured, and at once wished that she hadn't. She was starting to let her worry turn into self-pity: bad sign.
"Pali?" Kyd was gazing at her, a finger against her cheekbone. Her eyes seemed to glow, intent and warm. A grin was spreading across her face. "Pali, that's not the only thing we're talking about, is it? I think this is something that you just plain want to do. For yourself. Am I right?"
Pali reached out and switched off the holo without answering. Suddenly she didn't feel much like the director here. Was this what it felt like to the artists who came, hats in hand, looking for fulfillment grants?
"Grab it while you can," Kyd said. "It's your dream."
Pali gazed back at the city. Wouldn't it be nice if this project earned her a genuine sixtieth-floor window instead of a holo-view? Well, which do you want? she thought—status, or something to tell your children someday? She broke off that thought and turned again. "All right. Yes. If we can sell it, I damn well want to do it."
"Good!" Kyd said, beaming. "Well, buck up—we're on our way. We've already got ourselves a gnostic designer."
"Now we just need Russell's approval for research time, and an artist."
Kyd chuckled. "Pali, can we start that in the morning?"
Pali looked at the time, and her eyes widened. "My God, you're right! Let's go home!"
* * *
Pushing aside the remains of her chicken wings and curry, Pali sat back on her couch and nervously twirled a half-full wineglass and stared at Chagall's painting of "The Circus Rider" on her mantel-screen. It wasn't what she needed right now, she decided. She reached for the screen controller and flipped on the vispy. She tried and rejected a variety of drama and music channels; finally, in irritation, she switched it off and left the wall a mirror. Raising her wineglass, she squinted through the pale, faintly golden liquid. She took a sip and shrugged. It was cheap California Chablis. She could afford better, but had succumbed to a rush of frugality. With her job in jeopardy . . .
Stop it, she thought. If you think defeat, you're halfway there already. She could find a new job if she had to—she had the experience. But her anxious stomach thought otherwise.
Then why so scared? Kyd was enthusiastic, wasn't she? Granted, Kyd had only been working for her a few months, but she had good sense and Pali trusted her, and sometimes you just had to go with your instincts. So what was wrong? Are you upset because you don't have a man to call for approval? Is that it? Because Jonathan couldn't handle your commitment to your job, and before that David . . .
Stop it! She drank the rest of her wine in an angry gulp. Maybe there was more truth there than she cared to admit. Trapped by some damn-fool expectation that she'd never been able to rid herself of. Rising suddenly, she padded across the hardwood floor into the kitchenette and dropped her dishes into the 'clave. Well, there was one man she had to check it out with, and that was Russell Thurber, her department head. If he didn't approve the gnostic research, the project would be stillborn. But she was pretty sure she could handle Russell. Good old compulsive Russell. They hadn't been very good lovers together, but she could still count on him.
She returned to the living room, turned on the console, and punched up her access to the Company's gnostic library. "System, show me that list of available artists."
As she waited, she gazed at her reflection in the mirrored wall. She sighed, smoothing her hair. Pali, you have no cause to complain, she thought. And it was true; she was an attractive woman—she had a warm, full face, and her flowing auburn hair was the envy of the department; and even if she thought her figure a tad matronly (at thirty-nine?), even in her worst moments she still liked her deep brown eyes. She couldn't help thinking of Kyd, though—Kyd who was in her thirties, too, but had the looks and energy of a woman ten years younger. There was something about Kyd that set her apart, some special appeal . . .
She caught herself and shook her head. Quit chasing after your youth, she thought—you're never going to catch it.
* * *
"Kyd, when you have a minute, could I see you?" Pali said, passing through the outer office late the next morning.
"Sure, Pali—what's up?" Kyd broke away from three other workers and followed Pali into her office.
"Well, Russell gave me the approval," Pali said with satisfaction.
"Great! When do we get started?"
"As soon as possible." Pali sat down at her desk and switched on her console. "I've been trying to come up with an artist. The gnosys recommends this guy. Ever heard of him?"
Kyd peered across at the screen. "Ramo Romano? I don't think so. Who is he?"
"A light-sculptor with gnosys experience. Good artistic credentials." Pali's finger traced down the screen. "Madison, Wisconsin, Library. Beijing Best Western. Cultural Center lobby in Rio—I know that one—it's beautiful." She cleared her throat uneasily. "But his business credentials are terrible. He's a prima donna. He keeps getting fired from jobs."
"Great."
"But according to the gnostic search, his work comes closest to what we want. And he lives here in the city."
"Okay. What do you want me to do?"
"Would you mind looking him up? Talking to him?"
"Sure." Kyd caught the look in Pali's eye. "What?"
"Well—" Pali cleared her throat. "You notice that he doesn't have an agent, and there's no address listed for him."
"Sounds like he doesn't want work very badly."
"Apparently he's well off, and his attitude is—if you want to see me, come do it on my terms. Meaning, in one of his hangouts." Pali was uneasy with what she was about to suggest. "You don't have to do this. But I thought . . . Well, you might be more comfortable than I would be, anyway."
"Where do I have to go?" Kyd asked cautiously.
"There's a place here in the city called the Lie High Club. Do you know it?"