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Some of the morphic specialists claimed thatany portion of Urb-stuff within his reach here in the orchard would have sufficed for his purposes. Others felt that the stuff
forming the simulacrum of his wife would naturally resonate most strongly with the patterns he sought. Greenlaw did not quite know whom to believe. Perhaps the wisest course would be to snatch and run now, attain the safety beyond the shuggoths.
But his protective sheath seemed to be working as promised.
Any knowledge he could collect might help the defenders.
And he did so want to see Stroma.
Even her ghost.
The Urb had been right about one thing, however. His time here was limited by his inner reserves.
Moving swiftly, Greenlaw soon left the orchard far behind.
A busy road presented itself. Traffic crawled, hopped and skittered, bound in one direction toward Greenlaw's residence in a luxurious neighborhood of tree towers and zomehomes on the outskirts of the plex.
False, all a sham, Greenlaw kept reminding himself. He felt the neo-emotion known as sehnsucht, a wave of longing for the unattainable, mixed with nostalgi a a nd grief. Harshly, he damped the neomote signal down.
Stepping into traffic, Greenlaw halted a two-rider tumblebug.
The driver was a slim fellow wearing the tattoon of the telecosm maintenance crada.
''What's your trouble, Peej? And why the envirosuit?"
Greenlaw played the Urb's game. "I can't explain now. May I have a ride?"
The cryptohuman formed of Urb-stuff hesitated realistically before agreeing. "Certainly. Hop aboard."
Greenlaw climbed on the tumblebug, and, after allowing a cargo-crawler to pass on the left, its driver took off.
Greenlaw remained silent for the trip-which took less time than running would have and conserved his resources as well-and the driver seemed reluctant to initiate conversation.
Was the Urb toying with him? All it would take to defeat Greenlaw would be to immobilize him in any of a hundred different ways until he either suffocated or opened up. Was the Urb (whose motives no one had ever fathomed) so intent on its simulation that it could not react to Greenlaw's unique presence?
There was no certainty. None.
Greenlaw settled back into his seat.
Finally, they arrived at his destination, the periphery of his residential district.
Greenlaw turned to the driver. "If I were to ram my fist into your chest right now and squeeze your heart to Urb-pulp, you'd die horribly, I'm sure, and quite convincingly.
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