The Dark Lady

The other man is Enrico Robinson, born in 4201 G.E. He became a prizefighter in 4220 G.E., changed his name to Crusher Comanche in 4221 G.E., relocated to Northpoint in 4224 G.E., and died of internal injuries received during a prizefight in 4235 G.E.”
    “Do these artists share any single trait or experience in common with each other, or with the four that I mentioned earlier?”
    “No.”
    “It didn't take you very long to determine that,” I noted.
    “I anticipated your question.”
    “Can computers do that?” I asked, mildly surprised.
    “I am so programmed,” it replied. “Although had you not asked it, I would not have volunteered the answer.”
    “I see. May I have hard copies of the illustrations?”
    “Including the Piranus sculpture of Proserpine?”
    “Yes,” I said. “And while you're doing so, can you also give me a biographical sketch of Lucius Piranus?”
    “He was a minor Roman artist, born in 43 A.D., relocated to Crete in 88 A.D., died of natural causes in 111 A.D.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “Is there any other way in which I may serve you?” asked the computer.
    I sighed. “Not at the moment, I am afraid.”
    “I will, of course, keep your request for illustrations of the model and biographies of the artists on file, and whenever I access other library computers and share their memories, I will pursue your quest for further data.”
    “Thank you very much,” I said.
    “It is my function,” replied the computer.
    “Wait,” I said, remembering Abercrombie's other directive. “There is one more thing I would like you to do for me.”
    “Yes?”
    “I need an expanded biographical sketch of Reuben Venzia.”
    “May I please have your Security Access Code?”
    “I do not know what that is.”
    “I can't release information on a living person, other than those who have been officially designated as Public Figures, to anyone without the proper Security Access Code.”
    “Can you at least tell me where to find him?”
    “Certainly. He is sitting 263 feet north-northeast of you.”
    “You mean he's here now?” I exclaimed.
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “I cannot attempt to answer you unless you have a Security Access Code,” responded the computer.
    “Thank you,” I said. “That will be all.”
    The computer darkened again, while I tried to fathom why Venzia should be in this place at this time. Finally I left my cubicle, and as I began walking through the Off-World Section toward the exit, I saw Venzia rise from a table in the main section and begin walking on a course that was designed to intercept me just as I reached the doorway.
    “Leonardo, isn't it?” he said, extending his hand as he approached me.
    I stared at his outstretched hand rather stupidly for a moment, since no human except Tai Chong had ever willingly made physical contact with me. Finally I recalled that it was a sign of greeting, and I took it.
    “That is correct,” I said, utilizing the Dialect of Peers. “And you are Mr. Venzia. I recognize you from the art auction.”
    “Call me Reuben,” he said easily. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
    “I am incapable of metabolizing coffee,” I replied.
    “Choose whatever you want,” said Venzia. “I'd like to talk to you.”
    “That is most generous of you, Mr. Venzia.”
    “Reuben,” he corrected me.
    “Reuben,” I repeated. “I must inform you, however, that I obtain my nourishment at restaurants which cater to non-humans.”
    “Fine,” he said, heading toward the exit. “Let's go.”
    “I have never seen a Man in one of them,” I continued.
    “I'd like to see them try to keep me out,” he said.
    “Very well, then.”
    “I haven't seen you for almost two months,” he remarked as we walked out into the open air. “Have you been off-world?”
    “Yes,” I said, choosing the sidewalk to the slidewalk as I always do. “Although I cannot imagine why you would expect to see me, even had I remained on Far London. After all, we met only once.”
    “Oh, people in the same line of business tend to run into one another, especially on a planet as underpopulated as Far London.” He paused. “How did you like New Rhodesia?”
    I came to a sudden stop and turned to him. “How did you know I went to New Rhodesia?” I asked.
    “An educated guess,” he said. He gestured down the sidewalk. “Shall we continue?”
    I proceeded in silence, pondering his last remark, and uncomfortably aware of the curious stares that we were