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Confident that lunch would present mysteries but no terrors, Duncan did his best to enjoy himself. On the whole he succeeded. He bravely tackled everything set before him, rejecting about a third after one nibble, tolerating another third, and thoroughly appreciating the remainder. As it turned out, there was nothing that he actively disliked, but several items had flavors that were too strange and complicated to appeal to him at first taste.

Cheese, for example that was a complete novelty. There were about six different kinds, and he nibbled at them all. He felt that he could get quite enthusiastic about at least two varieties, if he worked on it. But that might not be a good idea, for it was notoriously difficult to persuade the Titan food chemists to introduce new patterns into their synthesizers.

Some products were quite familiar. Potatoes and tomatoes, it seemed, tasted much the same all over the Solar System. He had already encountered them, as luxury products of the hydroponic farms, but had always found it difficult to get enthusiastic about either, at several so lars a kilogram.

The main dish was-well, interesting. It was something called steak and kidney pie, and perhaps the unfortunate name turned him off. He knew perfectly well that the contents were based on high-protein soya; Washington had confessed that this was the only item not actually

produced on the farm, because the, technology needed was too elaborate. Nevertheless, he could not manage more than a few bites. It was too bad that every time he tried to take a mouthful, he kept thinking of the phrase “kidney function” and its unhappy associations. But the crust of the pie was delicious, and he polished off more than half of it.

Dessert was no problem. It consisted of a large variety of fruits, most of them unfamiliar to Duncan even by name. Some were insipid, others very pleasant, but he felt that all were perfectly safe. The strawberries he thought especially good, though he turned down the cream that was offered with them when he discovered, by tactful questioning, exactly how it was made.

He was comfortably replete when Mrs. Washington produced a final surprise-a small wooden box containing a wax honeycomb. As long as he could remember,

Duncan had been familiar with that term for lightweight structures; it required a mental volte face to realize that this was the genuine, original item constructed by Terran insects.

“We’ve just started keeping bees,” explained the Professor. “Fascinating creatures, but we’re still not sure if they’re worth the trouble. I think you’ll like this honey-try it on this crust of new bread.”

His hosts watched him anxiously as he spread the golden fluid, which he thought looked exactly like lubricating off. He hoped that it would taste better, but he was now prepared for almost anything.

There was a long silence. Then he took another bite-and another.

“Well?” asked George at last.

“It’s-delicious-one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m so pleased,” said Mrs. Washington. “George, be sure to send some to the hotel for Mr. Makenzie.”

Mr. Makenzie continued to sample the bread and honey, very slowly. There was a remote and abstracted expression on his face, which his delighted hosts attributed to sheer gastronomical-pleasure. They could not possibly have guessed at the real reason. Duncan had never

been particularly interested in 124 food, and had made no effort to try the occasional novelties that were imported into Titan. The few times that any had been pressed upon him, he had not enjoyed them; he still grimaced at the memory of a reputed delicacy called caviar. He was therefore absolutely certain that never before in his life had he tasted honey.

Yet he recognized it at once; and that was only half the mystery. Like a name that is on the tip of the tongue, yet eludes all attempts to grasp it, the memory of that earlier encounter lay just below the level of consciousness. It had happened a long time ago-but when, and where? For a fleeting moment he almost took seriously the idea of reincarnation. You,

Duncan Makenzie, were a beekeeper in some earlier life on Earth…. Perhaps he was mistaken in thinking that he knew the taste. The association could have been triggered by some random leakage between mental circuits.

And anyway, it could not possibly be of the slightest importance…. He knew better. Somehow, it was very important indeed.

HISTORY LESSON

Of all the old cities, it was generally agreed that Paris and Washington offered the best combination of beauty, culture, history-and convenience Unlike such largely random aggregations as London and Rome, which had defied millennia of planning, they had been adapted fairly easily to automatic transportation. Could he have risen from his tomb in Arlington, the luckless Pierre Charles

L’Enfant would have been proud indeed to have discovered how well he had laid the ground for a technology centuries in his future.