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on me and suddenly I realize that I’ve invested quite a lot of self-esteem in her continued good opinion of me. “I mean, I think he may have been a mercenary, working for one of the Powers.”
    â€œThat would be bad.” She lets go of my hands. “Robin?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIs that why you haven’t had a backup since rehab? And why you’re always hanging out in public places with your back to the most solid walls?”
    â€œYes.” I’ve admitted it, and now I don’t know why I didn’t say it before. “I’m afraid of my past. I want it to stay dead.”
    She stands up, leans across the table to take my hands and hold my face, then kisses me. After a moment I respond hungrily. Somehow we’re standing beside the table and hugging each other—that’s a lot of contact with Kay—and I’m laughing with relief as she rubs my back and holds me tight. “It’s all right,” she soothes, “it’s all right. ” Well, no it isn’t—but she’s all right, and suddenly my horizons feel as if they’ve doubled in size. I’m not in solitary anymore, there’s someone I can talk to without feeling as if I might be facing a hostile interrogation. The sense of release is enormous, and far more significant than simple sex.
    â€œCome on,” I say, “let’s go see Linn and Vhora.”
    â€œSure,” she says, partly letting go. “But Robin, isn’t it obvious what you need to do?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œAbout your problem.” She taps her toe impatiently. “Or haven’t the therapists been giving you the hard sell, too?”
    â€œYou mean the experiment?” I lead her back into the Green Maze, cueing my netlink for another firefly. “I was going to say no. It sounds crazy. Why would I want to live in a panopticon society for ten or fifty megs?”
    â€œThink about it,” she says. “It’s a closed community running in a disconnected T-gate manifold. Nobody gets to go in or comes out after it starts running, not until the whole thing terminates. What’s more, it’s an experimental protocol. It’ll be anonymized and randomized, and the volunteers’ records will be protected by the Scholastium’s Experimental Ethics Service. So—”
    Enlightenment dawns. “If anyone is after me, they won’t be able to get at me unless they’re inside it from the start! And while I’m in it I’ll be invisible.”
    â€œI knew you’d get it.” She squeezes my hand. “Come on, let’s find these friends of yours. Do you know if they’ve been approached, too?”
    WE find Linn and Vhora in a forest glade, enjoying an endless summer afternoon. It turns out that they’ve both been asked if they’re willing to participate in the Yourdon study. Linn is wearing an orthohuman female body and is most of the way out of rehab; lately she’s been getting interested in the history of fashion—clothing, cosmetics, tattoos, scarification, that sort of thing—and the idea of the study appeals to her. Vhora, in contrast, is wearing something like a kawaii pink-and-baby-blue centaurform mechabody: she’s got huge black eyes, eyelashes to match, perfect breasts, and piebald skin covered in Kevlar patches.
    â€œI had a session with Dr. Mavrides,” Linn volunteers diffidently. She has long, auburn hair, pale, freckled skin, green eyes, upturned nose, and elven ears: her historical-looking gown covers her from throat tofloor. It’s a green that matches her eyes. Vhora, in contrast, is naked. Linn leans against Vhora’s flank, one arm spread lazily across her back to toy idly with the base of the fluted horn that rises from the center of Vhora’s forehead. “It sounds interesting to me.”
    â€œNot my cut.” Vhora sounds amused, though it’s hard to judge.