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Duncan obeyed, despite an almost irresistible impulse to see what was really happening to the extraordinary object he held. He felt completely disoriented, because it seemed that the sense of touch-the most reliable of all man’s messengers from the external universe-was betraying him.

For the very texture of the egg was constantly changing. It no longer felt like metal; unbelievably, it was furry. He might have been fondling some small woolly animal-a kitten, perhaps…. But only for

seconds. The egg shivered, became 262 hard and rough-it was made of sandpaper, coarse enough to grate the skin … the sandpaper became satin, so smooth and silky that he wanted to caress it. There was barely time to obey the impulse when … the egg was liquefying and becoming gelatinous. It seemed about to ooze through his fingers, and Duncan had to force himself not to drop it in disgust. Only the knowledge that this could not really be happening gave him strength to control the reflex … . it was made of wood; there was no doubt of that, for he could even feel the grain … . before it dissolved into myriads of separate bristles, each so sharp and distinct that he could feel them prickling his skin…. And there were sensations that he could not even name, some delightful, most neutral, but some so unpleasant that he could scarcely control his revulsion. At last, when within his cupped palms Duncan felt the unique, the incomparable touch of human skin, curiosity and amazement got the better of him. He opened his hands; the silver egg was completely unchanged, though now it felt as if it were carved from soap.

“What in heaven’s name is it?” he cried.

“It’s a tacto id You haven’t heard of them?”

“No.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? It does to the sense of touch what a kaleidoscope does to vision. No, don’t ask me how it works-something to do with controlled electrical stimulation.”

“What’s it used for?”

Must everything have -a -purpose? It’s just a toy’a novelty. But I had a very good reason for showing it to YOU.”

“Oh, I know. “The latest from Earth.”

Calindy gave a wistful smile; she recognized that old ~arch phrase. It brought back vividly to both of them those days together on Titan, a lifetime ago.

“Duncan,” she said, so quietly that he could barely hear the words, “do you think it was all my fault?” They were now sittin igy two meters

apart on the divan, and he had to twist his body to face her. The woman he saw now was no longer the selfassured executive and impresario he had met on the Titanic, but an unhappy and uncertain girl. He wondered how long the mood of contrition would last, but for the moment it was genuine enough.

“How can I answer that?” he replied. “I’m still completely in the dark. I don’t know what Karl was doing on Earth, or why he came here.”

This was only partially true; Karl’s Minisec had begun to reveal its secrets. But Duncan was not yet prepared to discuss those with anybody, least of an with Calindy.

She looked at him with an air of faint surprise and answered: “Do you mean to say that he never told you-in fifteen years?”

“Told me what?” said Duncan.

“What happened on that last night aboard Mentor.”

“No,” replied Duncan, with painful slowness. “He never talked about it.”

After all these years, that betrayal was still a bitter memory. He knew now, of course, that it was absurd for two young adults like Karl and

Calindy, obsessed by their own grief, to have given any thought to the feelings of the boy who adored them both. He could not blame them now; but in his heart he had never forgiven them.

“So you didn’t know that we used a joy machine.”

“Oh, no!”

“I’m afraid so. It wasn’t my idea. Karl insisted, and I didn’t know any better. But at least I had sense enough not to use it myself. Well, only at very low power … “They were illegal even in those days. How did one get aboard Mentor?”

“There were a lot of things on Mentor that no one ever knew about.”

“I’m sure of that. What happened?”

Calindy got to her feet again and began to pace nervously to and fro. She avoided Duncan’s eyes as she continued.

“I don’t like to think about it. Even now, it frightens me, and I can understand why people get hopelessly addicted. I’m sure your fingers

have never 264 touched anything as-well, I suppose -palpable is the only word-as that tacto id The joy machine is just the same; it makes real life seem pale and thin-and Karl, remember, used it at full power. I told him not to, but he laughed. He was confident that he could handle it …… Yes, thought Duncan, that would be just like Karl. Though he had never seen an emotion amplifier, one was kept under proper supervision at the Oasis