The girl had big, myopic eyes. "Our contract ended sixteen days ago." She took a cigarette from inside her kimono. "Protector Sordman, could I just talk to you?" "Certainly," Sordman said. Lee and George went to a coffee house on the next floor down. "I want to talk to just you," the girl said. "I feel safe with you. You make me feel right." "It goes with being a Talent," Sordman said. "Either we like people and let them know it or we crack." "I know it's all right to tell you things. I love Joe. I broke the rules for him. I didn't avoid him for three months the way you're supposed to. I went everywhere I knew he'd be. I had to see him." Sordman stroked his beard. Mentally, he cuddled her in his arms and murmured comfort to her. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her body. "Just before our marriage ended, I found out he was seeing Raven English as much as he could. He didn't break the rules. But when we went to dances he always danced with her once or twice. And she and her husband used to meet us in bars. After the contract expired, he couldn't see her much because she and her husband have another six months to go. But there was a dance last week and I saw the two of them disappear into the park. Raven's husband hunted all over for her. He looked horrible. I pitied him." "Who's Raven English?" "She's a sadist. I know she is. She's just the type to do this. She likes to play with men and hurt them. Her poor husband is a nervous wreck. I know she killed Joe, Protector. She hates us!" He stood up. The girl watched him with big eyes. He put his hand on her head. "Sleep is a joy," he said. Unprepared, he couldn't have done that to many people. But she was a woman, which added to his influence, and totally exhausted. * * * * * He got off the vator and looked around for the coffee house. Dozens of people wandered the halls and the shops. As he walked down the hall, some of them looked away or got as far from him as they could. Others ignored him or found his presence reassuring or studied him curiously. A fat woman in a black kimono walked toward him. She had one hand on her hip and her eyes were narrowed and hard. Sordman smiled. He felt her fear and distrust, and her determination not to let such emotions conquer her. "Good afternoon, Protector." "Good afternoon, Citizen Mother." He felt her triumph and her pleasure with herself. His fellow humans often made him gawk in wonder. Some people say we're psychic cripples, he thought. And maybe we are. But we do our work and we enjoy ourselves. And we do dangerous things like putting bases on Venus and falling in love. Surrounded by death and danger, crippled though we are, we go on. He swelled with feeling. People smiled and glanced at each other or hid shyly from the organ chords of his emotion. An old man stepped in front of him. "Monster! Freak!"