Yuen-Mong's Revenge (39 page)

 
     
"Yes. Tell me what’s involved."

 
     
"I would first make hand drawings of you."

 
     
"Why not video recordings?"

 
     
"I may make that too, but a sculpture isn’t intended to be a perfect
reproduction, but the artist’s vision of the model and that can already be
expressed by the hand drawing."

 
     
"I understand. You want to get started?"

 
     
"Now?"

 
     
"Yes, or don’t you have the time now?"

 
     
"Oh, you are such a woman of action. I would dither about for
weeks."

 
     
Yuen-mong had already begun removing her clothing. "Where do you
want me to stand and in what pose?"

 
     
"Over near the window — nobody will be able to see you. Could you
stand as if you were shooting an arrow from a bow? … Oh, you’re not
depilated." Mai blushed deeply.

     
"Depilated? I have shaved my underarms and legs. I noticed other
women seem to do that." She saw Mai gaze at her pubic hair and looked
down to it. "You mean women remove the hair here too?"

 
     
"Yes, all do," Mai murmured and looked away.

     
"But why? I like my black curls. They give me a sense of modesty."

 
     
"I’m sorry, Yuen-mong. I was just shocked. I have never seen a
woman with hair. But I think you’re right. It looks good and you’re so
beautiful. You have the body of an athlete. I’ll quickly record it to remind
me of details and then I’ll draw you."

 
     
She took video shots from various angles and made three rough
sketches on a drawing pad. Half-an-hour later she was finished. Yuen-mong got dressed again and then inspected the sketches. She liked what
she saw, and was surprised by the strength she saw in her muscles.

     
"Oh, I wish I could draw like this," she exclaimed.

     
Mai blushed. "You should see my father. He draws one line that is
perfect, while it takes me half-a-dozen to bring out the same effect."

 
     
"Yes, I admired the charcoal drawings in his office. That girl is you,
right?"

 
     
"Yes, when I was five… It’s a pity he doesn’t paint anymore. He was
very talented. I got my artistic side from him."

 
     
They arranged that Mai would tell her when she needed to pose for the
detailed sculpting in two to three weeks time. She promised to fashion a
bow and an arrow similar to the ones she had used on Aros.

* * *

When she returned home, Atun told her that he had received the signal
that Vishnu had been entered illegally.

     
"Should we go there and inspect it?" she asked.

     
"No, there’s no hurry. We behave as if we didn’t know. Anyway
there’s nothing there for them. But we can expect a break-in here any day
now."

 
     
They received the signal the next day that their apartment had been
entered, but not Anouk’s, while all three of them were on an excursion
on Lake Carda, In fact, they had arranged that trip in a highly visible
manner by buying the tickets in person the day before.

     
On their return, whenever moving around, Atun inspected their apartment in an inconspicuous manner that did not give away what he was
doing. During that time, they talked mainly about how they had enjoyed
the trip and that they should do more of this sort of leisure activity. He
finally spotted two small microchip disks, one attached to the underside
of their apartment comunit in their lounge, the other under the bedframe
in their bedroom. A more thorough search revealed no other ones.

     
"So they only installed listening devices, no video equipment which
is a relief," he said when they were both in the bathroom.

 
     
"Will you remove them?"

 
     
"No, we will leave them —"

 
     
"— and if we want to talk without being overheard, we have to do it
in here or the kitchen, if we whisper?"

 
     
"Here yes, but not in the kitchen. These devices are highly sensitive.
They pick up whispers. We must close the door even here. And no noise
anymore when we make love."

 
     
"Why? I don’t care if they hear us. In fact, why don’t we record it and
then play it several times a day?"

 
     
"I believe you would do that," he said laughing, grabbing her in a hug.

* * *

Later that same week they went to their first concert at the Foundation
Concert Hall. Although the invitation was for Foundation members only,
Yuen-mong was determined that Atun would come along too. She had
decided to openly flirt with expulsion.

     
"Do you think this is a good idea, to provoke them?"

 
     
"Yes, it’s a diversionary tactic. They’ll then get preoccupied by my
misbehavior."

 
     
"But you might get expelled."

 
     
"I doubt they’ll dare as long as I’m in the good book with the old man.
Anyway, once instantcom has been demonstrated, they’ll ask you to join.
Don’t they invite famous inventors to become members?" she replied
with a twinkle in her eyes.

     
"Yuen-mong, you amaze me anew every day."

 
     
"And I plan to continue doing that."

 
     
They again walked up through the park. To her surprise, the ushers at
the entrance did not check tickets. She assumed that nobody would even
think of violating Foundation rules. They met Syd Twan in the entrance
hall, and for a moment his face turned into a frown and then he smiled at
her.

     
"What a pleasure to see you again, Yuen-mong. I have missed you. I
wondered what has kept you so quiet." He quickly glanced at Atun.
"Good evening to you too, Mr. Caruna."

 
     
"You worried in vain, Syd," she replied and sensed how her smile
stirred him up.

     
"Will you join me and my friends in my stall?"

 
     
"Thank you, Syd, but I would rather not compromise you." She
winked.

     
He responded with a short laugh and said: "That’s considerate of you.
See you after the concert. I hope you will enjoy this performance. It’s a
galactic premier, conducted by Master Mendel himself."

 
     
"Who is Mendel?" she asked Atun as they went to the nearest hall
entrance.

     
"Mendel is one of the leading contemporary composers. He’s famous
for his extreme disharmonies."

 
     
When they walked down the aisle to find a seat near the front, the
young aristocrat who had called her a cripple came walking up, his wrist
in a cast. She again noticed how all women stepped dutifully aside to let
him pass. He came to a sudden halt in front of her, his face contorting
with hate. For a second, she wondered what he was going to do, and so
must have many of the spectators. She could feel their minds focused on
her, as a momentary hush descended on the hall. But then he stepped
aside and let her pass.

     
"Thank you," she said with a smile and continued walking down.

     
She had no doubt that at that moment she had become the topic of
conversation of most people in the hall. They found seats in the third
row, a young couple between them and the aisle.

     
"You’re Yuen-mong Shen. I recognized you," the false blonde woman
said and blushed instantly. "I apologize," she murmured.

     
"No reason to apologize. Yes, I’m Yuen-mong and this is my companion, Atun Caruna."

     
"Sorry, I’m usually not that maladroit. I’m Moira Grant and this is my
husband, George. Pleased to meet you."

 
     
They nodded to each other.

     
"Is this your first concert here?"

 
     
"My first concert ever, except for the concerts of the dawn birds on
Aros," Yuen-mong replied with a chuckle.

     
"You may then find Mendel’s music somewhat strange and taxing.
The concert next week might have been a better introduction. The famous
flautist Anco Molena will play classical pieces; in fact it’s the first of a
series of three evenings. I like him very much."

 
     
The lights dimmed at that point, and silence fell on the spectators as
the conductor walked to the podium and bowed several times to the
polite applause of the audience. He struck her as a proud, vain man, and
his mental emanations confirmed that.

     
He tapped the baton on the lectern impatiently several times to get the
full attention of the musicians and then raised the baton for the first beat.
As the first striding discords hit her, she contracted involuntarily,
startled. It felt like the shrieks of a hundred craws, going from one jarring
discord to others in a random pattern. It was as if it gave sound to the
chaotic mind pattern of the savages. She had to restrain herself from not
putting her hands over her ears to shield herself. She looked at the title
in the program: ‘The Dawn of the Universe.’
Creating order from chaos?
she wondered, expecting the dissonances to resolve gradually into
harmonies.

     
After a while she was able to disassociate herself from the music and
tune in on the minds of the people around her. With a few exceptions,
what she found was distress, anxiety, even outright fear.
Why do people
suffer through this?
she asked herself.

     
The dissonances did not lessen, instead became more strident. She
endured the cacophony until the end of the first movement. While the
hall resounded with polite clapping and the composer displayed a
condescending smile, barely acknowledging the applause, she whispered
to Atun: "Let’s go," and got up.

     
"You can’t leave before the intermission," he whispered alarmed.

     
"Then watch me."

 
     
She smiled at Moira who, taken aback, moved her legs aside, and she
squeezed through to the aisle, Atun followed her hurriedly. All eyes were
on them as they started walking up the aisle. The applause petered out abruptly, and the conductor’s face displayed outrage. But her action
triggered an unexpected response. First a few and then more and more,
mainly young people got up, most waiting for them to pass before
entering the aisle. By the time they left the hall, at least a third of the
audience was on the move.

     
"You did it again, Yuen-mong. This will be a scandal."

 
     
"Apparently wholeheartedly approved by a lot of the audience," she
replied.

     
As they walked out of the building, she noticed many people smiling
at her and felt their positive vibes. On the steps, Syd Twan caught up
with them.

     
"Yuen-mong, may I invite you to a drink with soft, soothing music.
My car is down there."

 
     
"That would be pleasant. Are you game, Atun?"

 
     
"Yes, I think I need something to recover from this double whammy.
First the assault of that music and then your act of defying all etiquette."

 
     
"But young man that took courage, a courage that only Yuen-mong
can muster," Syd replied, smiling at her.

     
"Atun is not mad at me, Syd. In fact, I know he is relieved not to have
his ears tortured any further. And he is used to my erratic actions."