believe in the equivalence of life forms.”
“It seems not,” said Brenner.
“Then you are a species chauvinist,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner said nothing, but was furious.
“And so perhaps it is appropriate that you, too, have been sent to Abydos,” smiled Rodriguez.
“Perhaps,” said Brenner.
“Have you never wondered what it would be like, to breathe freely, to walk free, to fulfill yourself, to be yourself, as what you really are, truly?”
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“Good night,” said Rodriguez.
“About the directress,” said Brenner.
“Yes?” said Rodriguez.
“I think you owe me an apology, on her behalf,” said Brenner, “for how you spoke of her.”
“I do not understand,” said Rodriguez.
“Having to do with your offensive remarks about “curves” and “collars” and such.”
“Oh,” said Rodriguez.
“I really feel you should apologize.”
“Look there,” said Rodriguez. “There on the plating at your feet, in that exact place.”
“Yes?” said Brenner, puzzled, complying.
“Imagine her there now, in a slave collar, perhaps in chains, if you like, at your feet, stripped.”
Brenner, startled, stared down at the plating.
“Is she in chains?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner, hesitantly.
Rodriguez laughed.
Brenner reddened, angrily.
“Now,” said Rodriguez, “she lies at your feet, docile, curled up, in her chains.”
“Stop!” said Brenner.
“She is a woman,” said Rodriguez. “Let them lie there, at your feet, in the shadow of your whip, knowing they must obey. They will lie there, and purr with contentment.”
“Stop! Stop!” said Brenner.
“What is wrong?” asked Rodriguez.
“I will not have you uttering such words!”
“Are her lineaments, so soft and well turned, so luscious, not of interest to you?”
“I must not think such thoughts!” cried Brenner.
“Why?” asked Rodriguez. “Do they make you uncomfortable? Do they make you too conscious of your manhood?”
“I am not a man,” cried Brenner, “or not in what I take to be your dreadful sense! I must not be a man, not in that terrible sense! No! I am a person! I must be a person! Manhood, in your sense, is an anachronism, belonging to more primitive times, less enlightened eras. It is now, in that sense, as you well know, outlawed.”
“Yet in you, deny it as you will,” said Rodriguez, “is a man.”
“No,” wept Brenner.
“And in the old sense, that which you find so frightening, that of pride and power.”
“No!” said Brenner.
“Accept it, fulfill it, and relish it,” said Rodriguez.
“No, no!” said Brenner.
“You find these things reprehensible, objectionable?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes!” said Brenner.
“But the pupils of your eyes are dilated,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner turned swiftly away, that Rodriguez could not see his face, or body.
“Well,” said Rodriguez. “Dream of the directress, and as you would have her.”
“No,” said Brenner. “No!”
“Good night,” said Rodriguez, and, releasing the webbing, moved lightly across the plating, toward the exit from the lounge.
“Doubtless you will dream of her!” cried Brenner, clinging to the webbing, like a rope in the sea.
Rodriguez turned about, at the exit, and, one hand on the handle of the panel, grinned. “Perhaps,” he said, “but I think not. I have others in mind who I think would be even more interesting subjects of such dreams.”
“Monster,” said Brenner.
“And surely you, too, might do better than the directress,” he suggested, “not that she is bad, in her essentials, you understand.”
“Monster, monster!” said Brenner.
Rodriguez spun lightly about, preparing to leave.
“Rodriguez!” called Brenner.
Rodriguez, his feet a bit from the floor, turned back. “Have you had such women,” asked Brenner, “women in such a way.
“Such women, women in such a way?” asked Rodriguez.
“You know what I mean!” said Brenner.
“Slaves, female slaves?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes!” said Brenner.
“Of course,” said Rodriguez. “They are common, on various worlds.”
“But the women of Home World do not even know of such things, do they?”
“I would suppose that most do not,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner regarded him.
“There are, of course,” said Rodriguez, “some such, even on Home World.”
“Impossible!” said Brenner.
“Kept secretly, of course,” said Rodriguez.
“Impossible,” insisted Brenner.
“Their chains are as real as those of the girls on Megara, kept as prizes, awarded in the games,” said Rodriguez.
“Impossible,” repeated Brenner.
“Not everything on the home world is on the surface,” said Rodriguez.
“What are slaves like?” asked Brenner.
“Once you have tried one,” said Rodriguez, “you will never be content with anything less.”
Brenner swallowed, hard. He knew that the home world, and such worlds, were notorious for the low quality of their female companionship.
“And,” said Rodriguez, “I have little doubt that even the directress, properly embonded, and brought under suitable discipline, might prove to be not without interest.”
Brenner regarded him, aghast.
“It would certainly shake up her frigidity at any rate,” he said.
“Please,” protested Brenner.
“Consider her at your feet, begging, with tears of need in her eyes,” he said.
“Stop!” said