It was the custom of Ennis and Dori to meet outside his office to begin their ‘walkabouts’ in the forests. He would conduct the two of them through the elaborate ‘stepping mirrors’ system pervaded Jahnson’s World.
Today was different. Ennis paused at his desk. “I want to show you something,” he said. He activated a hologram. “This is from Earth. Do you recognize it?”
A holo of a viridian-robed woman holding a torch floated above the desk. “Sure,” said Dori. “The original is out in York Harbor, I mean, the original hologram is. The statue was, what, fifteen hundred years old? Washed away in the great floods, if it hadn’t rusted away before then.”
“Do you know what it represents?” asked Ennis.
“Some ancient warrior goddess, right?” Dori guessed. “Olympia, Britannica, Columbia, Boadicea, one of those.”
“The original was titled ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’, a piece by an ancient Parisian sculptor named Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi,” Ennis explained. “Most interesting is the inscription on base, written by a poetess named Emma Lazarus. She called it ‘The Modern Colossus’.”
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
“I have made a final decision regarding the new Jahnson’s Planet,” Ennis continued. “Before we move the Forests up there, Brande Industries is going to build me three purely residential cities: the cities of Libertas, Lazarus, and Bartholdi, with room for initial populations of fifteen thousand inhabitants each. These are not for my employees; they will be refugee families from the most underprivileged populations of the United Planets. They will, in fact, be the majority on Jahnson’s Planet. The Forests’ employees and guests will make up less than 40% of the population. Ultimately, my hope is that these refugees will become a self-sustaining population, providing a broader economic base for the planet as a whole. And, of course, they will have no liability with regards to Tesoro—that will remain entirely my encumbrance.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to establish a personal Utopia,” said Dori. “Utopian colonies have a pretty poor record in the Galaxy.”
“Not a Utopia. A refuge. A small chance for a small population who would have had no chance otherwise, not even within the United Planets’ booming economy. They will make their own laws; create their own culture and civilization. I am merely providing this small, artificial world as a place to grow.”
Dori remained unconvinced, but any objections were cut off by the pinging of the wallscreen.
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
“Mr. Jahnson,” It was Ennis Jahnson’s second-in-command, Bunny, speaking from the wallscreen, “We seem to have a robot malfunction at Lot Gamma, just outside your office. Olea and I are on our way, but can you slip over there as well? It involves Ambassador Relnic and his wife, who have just arrived from Weber’s World.”
“Sounds just up your alley as well,” said Ennis Jahnson, addressing Dori. “Interplanetary diplomacy. Are you with me?”
It was a quick walk to Lot Gamma, and the problem was obvious. The ambassador, his wife, their chauffeur, and a parking valet droid were clustered around a vehicle, arguing. Bunny and her husband arrived just moments after Ennis and Dori. The Ambassador explained the problem, in tones of profound irritation.
“We are allowing our chauffeur a two-day holiday with our vehicle, while we are here on Jahnson’s World,” he explained. “It is a perfectly ordinary agreement. However, your robot will not allow him to leave without us, insisting that we first ‘empty the vehicle.’ The only contents of the vehicle are the chauffeur's luggage, and I don’t see that he should have to leave it behind in your facility.”
Bunny’s husband approached the chauffeur.
“My name is Olea Sharrik,” he introduced himself. “One of the human employees here on Jahnson’s world.”
“I am Adolpho Agagon,” the chauffeur replied. His Interlac was slightly, but noticeably, inflected.
“¿Habla usted el lenguaje celestial?” asked Olea.
“Pero si. Mi querida abuelita era de Españastro,” replied Adolpho.
“Ah, bien. ¿Cuál es el problema ahora?” asked Olea.
“Él ahora nos permitirá dejar,” Adolpho explained.
“¿Por qué no?” said Olea.
“¡Quien sabe!” said Adolpho, throwing his hands in the air..
Olea quickly queried the parking droid.
“The vehicle cannot be sent to the launching facility with additional guests still aboard,” it explained, simply.
“Mr. Jahnson, we have a Code Eleven-Thirty-Seven,” said Olea. The parking valet ‘bot instantly snapped to attention, moving closer into the runabout. Olea opened a side door, and lifting the rear seat, exposed a luggage hollow. There was no luggage there. It was a young boy. He leaped out the opposite door, only to be met with a bear-hug from Ennis Jahnson.
Bunny spoke calmly over his shoulder. “Let’s go inside, and have a little talk, shall we?”
As Bunny, Ennis, Dori, and the young stowaway walked back to Ennis Jahnson’s office, the parking valet ‘bot bowed respectfully to the ambassador and his wife. “Your chauffeur and vehicle are free to depart. Thank you for choosing Jahnson’s World as your vacation destination.”
“My personal luggage!” cried Adolpho Agaton. “What has happened to it?”
“I would suppose,” said Olea Sharrik, “That it is lying somewhere near where these vehicle was parked on Weber’s World.”
“Well, Thom, you must have had an exciting trip,” remarked Bunny.
“How’d’you know my name?” the boy named Thom asked. He was small, perhaps ten or eleven years old, with pale blue-white eyes and a crop of matted white-blonde hair.
“Young man,” said Ennis Jahnson, “I am a class-one telepath, and my Ms. Chandrasekar is class seven or eight. We have no wish to deep-probe your mind, but be assured, we could do so if we wished. We would much prefer to hear your story from your own lips. The vehicle you were in was last in a port in Weber’s World, but I would wager that that is not your home. I rather suspect you have come a long, long way.”
“A telepath would know if I’m fibbing, right?” he appealed to Dori, his eyes pleading.
“No question,” Dori replied. “But I have known these people for a couple of years, and I believe you can trust them, even if you are compelled to, now.”
“My name’s Thom Greyson,” the boy replied, not taking his eyes off Dori. “I’m from Fronterra, on the outskirts of the United Planets.”
“That’s a Luddite world, isn’t it?” asked Dori.
“My father’s a coal miner,” the boy continued. “Coal is one of the acceptable fuel sources there.”
“A coal-and-steam-powered economy,” Dori remarked. “Lovely.”
“Why did you run away?” asked Ennis.
“Who says…” Thom Greyson paused for a moment. “My Mum and Dad, they wish I wasn’t born. I’m a throwback, a bad seed, they says. I can’t learn, and I won’t learn. Incorrigible, that’s me. So yeah, I ran away. A thousand parsecs, and I’m still running. But now, I guess, you’re going to send me back.”
“Thom,” said Bunny, “I’m a doctor. A real, medical doctor.” The others nodded in agreement. “Please take off your shirt.”
The boy did so, slowly, with obvious reluctance. His back was covered with scars and welts.
“Him as spareth the rod, hateth his son,” Thom quoted.
“Ah,” said Ennis. “The Pentateuchaic Law. So before you were beaten, your father brought you before a tribunal of ten Judges, selected from the Elders of your city, particularly for your case? And they found you guilty, by majority vote, although not unanimously, lest there be no one to speak in your defence? And the Rod of Discipline was administered upon you by the High Priest himself?”
The boy Thom stood wide-eyed. “We… er… we have no priests nort priestcraft on Fronterra…” he quoted.
“Oh, indeed? How is it then that your Law can be administered? I wonder what it was you were punished for? Perhaps you used diverse weights to defraud your neighbohr? No, that seems unlikely at your age. Perhaps you stole a sheep or cow, and were unable to restore fourfold? Perhaps you were insufficiently generous to an impoverished widow or her children, who put up their petition to you?”
“I… my father beats me with his rod, because I am a rebellious and disobedient son, and I… I sassed my Mum.”
“So, evidently, you must have cursed your mother by the ineffable name. A grievous transgression. And no doubt a glutton and a drunkard and a wastrel as well. But you father, I’m afraid, has made an error in judgement. These crimes are not punishable by thirty-nine stripes. Rather, you ought to have been taken without the city, and have been stoned to death. And your mother, herself, ought to have cast the first stone at you. However, you may rest at ease. All of Jahnson’s World is a City of Refuge, and you may safely reside here, without fear of extradition back to Fronterra. I will contact the Science Police on Weber’s World, and make them aware of your father’s actions-- which by any law, are both illegal, and unconscionable. They will contact your Homeworld, and let your parents and the Elders of your community-- or whoever is in charge there-- know that you are safe, and under our care and protection. We need only find you a place to live, and enroll you in school here.”
Dori raised her hand. “He can stay with me. My quarters are quite large, and I have a guest room that we could set up as his personal space,” she said. “I would be more than happy to be appointed his guardian, and to acquaint him with Jahnson’s World.”
Ennis looked thoughtful. “A temporary measure, but on a trial basis, yes, I think that would be acceptable.” He addressed Thom Greyson. “Young man, I am Ennis Jahnson, owner and proprietor of Jahnson’s World, and as far as you are concerned, Supreme Despot. You are to treat Dori Aandraison as your own mother. Better than you treated your own mother, in fact, since she is accepting you as family, knowing that you are a delinquent from the start. You will find freedoms and opportunities here that you could not have imagined on Fronterra. Do not abuse them. You will be given enormous opportunities for education and recreation here. Do not undervalue them. This is your job for the next several years: to learn and to play, which are both much the same thing. Do you understand me?”
“No, sir,” said Thom Greyson.
“I will see that he understands,” said Dori. “Eventually. Now come with me, Thom Love, and I’ll show you to your new living quarters. Coincidentally, my father was a miner, too.”
After they had gone, Bunny looked at Ennis critically. “Your esoteric knowledge never ceases to amaze me,” she said.
“You know my history,” said Ennis Jahnson. “None of this ought to be surprising to you. Now, we need to find out if the Greysons of Fronterra have any other children. Please make inquiries, and let the Science Police know that we are willing to provide refuge for them all, after Child Welfare Services picks them up.”
* * *
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
Thom adapted surprisingly well to life on Jahnson’s Planet, considering he had been raised out on the frontier.
He was surprised at how easily he was accepted at his new school, especially when he learned that virtually all his peers were telepaths. He knew that they could see him as he really was, and yet accepted him anyway.
He was intrigued by the artificial geography of Jahnson’s Planet, and wanted to accompany Ennis and Dori on their tours of the Forests. Scheduling conflicts between his school hours and Ennis Jahnson’s free time made this only a distant future possibility.
He became quite close friends with a Saturnian girl named Sesor Neombre, a music student, who introduced him to both the theremin and lespaul. Fascinated, he was allowed to borrow a theremin from the school for himself, and spent at least the better portion of an hour each day at Dori’s apartments practicing with it.
One evening, Dori and Thom were summoned to Ennis Jahnson’s office. Bunny was also there.
“I have news of your parents,” Ennis Jahnson told him soberly. “It appears that they were involved in a public altercation in a pub on Fronterra in which a number of people were injured. Your father is in a holding cell, awaiting trial, and your mother is presently hospitalized, along with certain others who were seriously injured. Due to the circumstances of the encounter, should one of those seriously injured die, both of your parents could be facing long prison terms. I wish to know your feelings about this. I understand it is a lot to process, so take some time. Until then, my door will be open to you. Contact Bunny if you wish to utilize the resources of Jahnson’s World to contact your parents, or even to return to Fronterra.”
“I can tell you my feelings right now,” said Thom, his white-blue eyes flashing. “I hate them both. I knew something like this was bound to happen eventually. After seeing the kids here on your World, I know that nobody has to be that way. I don’t care what happens to them; and if I could choose different parents, I would.”
“Thom Love,” Dori cried, “You can’t… this isn’t you. I’ve never… have you felt this way all along? Was it really that bad… before?”
“Since I’ve come to Jahnson’s World, I’ve felt like I’m in the Garden of Paradise,” he said. “The day after I got here, the hospital clinic—they undid every scar my father ever gave me. There’s no secrets here—everyone is just themselves. And I see more kinds of people than I ever knew existed. More kinds of being than I ever knew... Sometimes it seems wonderful, but sometimes I’m so angry that a place like Fronterra even exists. I never want to go back there again. I want to live my whole life… here, or anywhere else.”
Ennis Jahnson considered the pale boy gravely. “Nevertheless, our feelings sometimes change, and can surprise us. I sense a great anger in you, and anger sometimes directs itself toward surprising targets. Do not hesitate to come to me, or Bunny, or Dori, with your concerns. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. I would not say I am your friend, Thom, nor your parent, but I do feel a certain responsibility for you, if only because you are here, on Jahnson’s World. And Dori… well, Dori wears her heart on her sleeve, for you and for the whole world to see.”
* * *
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
Dori and Ennis were exploring the Forest of Seven Surprises again, in an area where even Ennis himself had never been.
“Yes, she’s here with me. Let me ask,” Ennis said, suddenly. He turned to Dori. “I am receiving a telepathic message from Thom’s principal. You did drop Thom off as school today, or is he ill? He never showed up for class.”
“I dropped him off,” said Dori, “And he went into the school. Do you think he’s turned around, and is playing truant?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Ennis. “The question is, is it a case of harmless adolescent fun, or should we be worried?”
“I’m worried,” said Dori. “Surely, with a planetful of telepaths, we could locate him if we wanted to?”
“Indeed,” said Ennis, “And I am the man with the authority to order a such a psi-search. You know, we hesitate to violate private thoughts overmuch.”
Dori looked at him imploringly. Ennis Jahnson spoke into the air. “Principal Leclerque, order a planet-wide search for the young man on my authority. Let me know where he is as soon a possible.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Dori. “I want to go back to my apartments. Our apartments. Mine and Thom’s apartments.” They set off at once.
By the time they reached the hotel, Ennis had an answer. It was not good.
Thom was no longer on Jahnson’s World.
“We’re gearing up for a new group of guests,” said Ennis. “We can put out an alert for anyone who has seen him, figure out how he got off-world, but it will take time…”
Now they were in Dori’s apartments. The moment they entered, the wallscreen buzzed.
“Principal Leclerque,” said Ennis Jahnson. The face of a stern, middle-aged woman filled the wallscreen, looking something like a African Mary Poppins. There was a small, pig-tailed girl beside her.
“Mr. Jahnson, Ms. Aandraison. This is Sesor Neombre, one of Thom’s schoolmates. She has something to tell you.”
“Thom was scared,” Sesor explained. “He thought you were planning to send him back to his parents on Fronterra. I told him he was worrying about nothing, but he thought you were waiting for him to change his mind, and if he didn’t—well, you were going to send him back anyway. He knows his parents are on their way to prison, and he thinks, he thinks maybe that’s where he’s going to end up, too. I think, I think he feels like he doesn’t belong here; like he’s happy here, and he thinks, he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be happy.”
“A lot of his stuff is missing,” said Dori. “And my Omnicom. I’ll bet he used it to take my runabout off-planet. Who knows where he’s headed?”
“I think he would go to Weber’s World,” Sesor suggested. “One of the spaceports, probably. Then from there, well, anywhere he could stow away. That’s how he got here. I think, I think, he thinks Weber’s World is… lucky.”
“My father’s old cruiser is faster than the runabout,” Dori said. “Malthusian upgrades. If I can get up there, I can go after him.”
“You’ll be flying blind, on a hunch,” Ennis replied. “We ought to call the SP’s, and report your runabout stolen.”
“No, no, we can’t do that,” Dori insisted. “He barely trusts us as it is… this little stunt shows us how little he trusts us at all. We can’t turn him over to the SP’s. Do you have a telepath capable of operating over interstellar distances?”
“No,” Ennis answered emphatically. “But we do have some Naltorans.”
Arn and Mara Thal were thirty-something Naltorans who had been working in the Forests for over five years. “We can’t tell you where he’s gone, or how to catch up with him,” Mara explained. “We can only tell you if you will.”
“Oh, I will,” said Dori. “The only question is when. If I have to follow him to the wilds of… of… some really wild place, I’ll catch up with him.”
Arn spoke up. “Yes, you will catch up to him on the way to Monster World. And soon.”
“Course correction,” said Dori.
They detected the runabout’s ping about an hour later. “Thom Love,” said Dori, “I know you can hear me. Please come back. You can dock my runabout in the cruiser’s cargo bay if you like, or just navigate back to Jahnson’s World. Please don’t run away. We miss you. I miss you.”
The viewscreen snapped on, Thom’s tear-streaked face filling the picture. “Am I going to jail for stealing the ship?” he asked.
“No, but I am seriously thinking about grounding you from … from something,” Dori answered. “What could you possibly have been thinking?”
“You said… Mr. Jahnson said he wanted me to change my mind, and want to go back and live with my parents. He thinks it’s my fault they started fighting each other again. I can’t go back there; I can’t go back to Fronterra. Please don’t let him send me back.”
“No, Thom, no,” said Dori. “This is a complete misunderstanding. The Schwarzwald Hotel is your home now. I’ll take care of you. Mr. Jahnson is happy to… he feels a responsibility for you, too. It’s your choice, we want to support you. You can stay as long as you like.”
Thom guided the ship into the cargo bay, and Dori set the ship’s course back to Jahnson’s World.
* * *
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
Dori enjoyed showing off Thom socially. He liked his time with the Chandrasekar family, he was like a big brother to the Gideon boys, he found Gemma and her Bokkite family traditions fascinating. He was somewhat awkward and shy around Carroll Hildebrandt, who dwarfed him in both height and personality.
He seemed to do well in school, and was fairly popular and well-liked, both by the teachers and students.
One night after finishing his homework, he came to Dori with a concern.
“I know nearly everyone on Jahnson’s World can read minds,” he said. “And I’m pretty OK with that. Nobody makes it a big deal, and I guess I grew up in a place where people actually watched you a lot more. And I know every telepath is different, but I was wondering: can they also put thoughts into your head?”
“Most of the people here can do mind-speaking,” said Dori. “There is even a formal emergency communications network set up by Mr. Jahnson.”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Thom. “Could somebody… maybe even accidentally, or… or unconsciously, change the way you think?”
“That is certainly possible,” said Dori. “But it is socially unacceptable here. You could change the way people think, too, you know. Let’s suppose you are a bad person. You might target one of your schoolmates, and every time you see them, you might say insulting or demeaning things to them. Now, after a while, they will learn not to like you; but very often, they will also internalize your insults, and begin to think less of themselves. This is particularly true if it is someone in a younger grade, or someone who once looked up to you. It is called ‘bullying’, and you would not do that. Invading another person’s thoughts is also bullying, and it is frowned upon among most telepathic societies.”
“No, that’s not it, either,” said Thom. “Believe me, I understand about bullying. It was not so socially unacceptable back… back on Fronterra. It’s… well, for example, my friend Sesor Neombre was doing a ‘Presentation Speech’ in class the other day. She brought in her pet mice, and talked about how she feeds them, and takes care of them, and plays with them, and what great pets they are. I hate mice. I had to set traps in the sheds, and chase them out of the house, and clean up their droppings all over. They were always nibbling on stuff we then had to throw away. They didn’t even eat that much, but it was always nibble, nibble, nibble, and they were filthy. I hate mice. But while Sesor was talking, I kept thinking how cute and… and sweet her mice were. And I thought maybe I might like to have pet mice like Sesor. Then thinking about it after school, I thought, no, that’s disgusting, how can she even keep filthy mice as pets? Does she give them a bath every day? It was weird, like when she was talking I was… hypnotized, or something.”
Dori smiled. “Thom Love, I think this is something you need to talk to Mr. Jahnson about. You’re growing up, and you’re starting to think differently about girls.”
“Oh, grife, Dori, I know all about that stuff,” said Thom. “We bred goats and pigs, I know how it works.”
“Yes, well, it’s probably pretty straightforward with goats and pigs,” said Dori. “It’s a lot more complicated with people. Complicated mentally, emotionally, socially. You really ought to talk to Mr. Jahnson, or some other adult male you trust, and get a man’s perspective.”
“OK,” said Thom, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“{I should have told him to talk to Carrol Hildebrandt},” thought Dori. “{[i]That would have really opened his eyes[/]}.”
“Well, it appears our friend Thom is an empath,” Ennis Jahnson told Dori. “It explains rather a lot: his inability to behave himself around his sociopathic parents, and his ability to fit in so well here on Jahnson’s World. Unfortunately, I’m afraid we will have to re-locate him. An empath needs a strong emotional center, and that means time alone with his own private feelings. And you are not the sort of person to provide the calm, low-key emotional atmosphere he needs.”
“But he certainly can’t live with a family of telepaths,” Dori said. “Are you thinking of shipping him off-world?”
“Oh, no,” said Ennis Jahnson. “I intend to relocate him to the Enchanted Forest.”
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
When he was introduced to the Albens, Thom took to the old couple in a way Dori could not have imagined.
The ursine Mardruans treated him like their very own grandchild—that is, spoiled him terribly—and he treated them like beloved grandparents.
Old Mr. Albens shared antique, entirely inappropriate jokes with Thom, the two laughing together for hours.
Mrs. Albens would dig up ancient recipes she had not made in years, and send Thom out for the ingredients from their gardens and greenhouses. Thom became quite a gardener in his own right.
Mr. Albens had a collection of old holo-vids dating back fifty years, and presented ‘lectures’ on the holo-vid history, the three binge-watching until the early hours of the morning.
Other nights, Thom would sit and play his theremin, at which he had become quite adept, with the two old bear-people half-listening, half-dozing in their rocking chairs.
For the remainder of the year, he commuted to Schwarzwald for school, as he had made some friends there. He was a normal boy with days filled with school and sports and other extracurricular activities, and his friendship with the children residing in the Enchanted Forest Hotel environs seemed to develop natural as well. In the new year, he would transfer to the Enchanted Forest school.
Dori’s apartments now seemed strangely empty, and the now twice-weekly visits to the Forests of Jahnson’s World with Ennis Jahnson seemed far too few and far between.
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
“I have never shown you my private quarters,” said Ennis, as he and Dori met outside his office one morning. “Have you never wondered where I go when the work is all done?”
“Is your work ever done?” asked Dori. “Have you ever taken a vacation since Jahnson’s World opened?”
“Come with me. I want to show you something,” Ennis said.
He opened the door to his office. Dori expected another trip out through the Gates, but the room was a shocking surprise.
Gone was the office. In its place, a small kitchenette, a dinette, an armoire, and a sleeping couch.
“Your office is your apartment?” Dori asked, astonished. “A man who owns a planet spends his time in a space of—what—ten square meters?”
“I have the run of the planet,” Ennis explained. “Why would I want for myself more than this? The furnishings are recycled through the solid printer; I can have anything I could possibly need in this space.”
“But isn’t’ this life you’ve chosen a little Spartan?” Dori asked.
“I was raised Spartan,” said Ennis. “These quarters are positive luxury, in comparison.”
“Why now? Why reveal yourself to me like this now?” Dori asked.
“I wanted to tell you something else about myself,” Ennis answered. “And this is the best way I could think to do it.”
He took down a small plaque that hung on the wall. On it was a simple inscription.
"Wishes of an Elderly Man, Wished at a Garden Party, June 1914” Sir Walter Alexander Raleigh
I wish I loved the Human Race; I wish I loved its silly face; I wish I liked the way it walks; I wish I liked the way it talks; And when I'm introduced to one I wish I thought What Jolly Fun!
“Is this supposed to be you?” Dori asked.
“It is me,” said Ennis. “More than you could possibly know.”
“Ennis Jahnson,” said Dori, “You are the most unreasonably philanthropic man I know. You nearly bankrupted yourself a couple of years ago, supporting your charities and orphanages. Look at this place!” Her hands pinwheeled about, taking in the tiny room. “You could be living in a mansion, a castle, and you choose to live like this. You hire mistrusted minorities and second-class U.P. citizens, whom you over-pay and under-employ, providing housing and education for their families. How can you say you wish…”
Ennis took the plaque from her hands, made a pass over it, and handed it back to her. In golden letters on a deep emerald-green background, the plaque now read:
The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything. "You people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful.”
Dori gaped at him.
“I am a level-one telepath,” Ennis explained. “Bunny understands. I have seen into the minds of others—countless others—and I have come to realize that I do not possess the same emotional intensity I find in other’s minds. My actions are, for the most part, very calculated and deliberate. I have developed a moral code to live by, but… Well, I have so little passion to distract me. I admire you, Dori, I even envy you. I cannot imagine doing anything simply because I felt it was right. But you… you live you life with passion and fire.”
Dori’s aura deepened, brightened, flared red, then crimson.
“You tell me now you have no heart, no feeling, no love of the human race.” A ball of amethyst fire formed in her hand. “I tell you, I could give you a heart. I could make you feel. I could make you fall in love with me, even.” The violet flame shrank, flickered, and died. “But that would be interfering in the world in a way that would probably not be… a very good idea. It would be… bullying.” Dori’s head was spinning, but she managed to point herself towards the door. “Good-bye, Ennis Jahnson. I have been patient a long time, and that is hard for me, but this… well, good-bye.”
Dori stormed back up to her apartments. She sat for awhile, shaken, then her feelings urged her into action. She packed her few belongings, summoned a valet ‘bot, and had them all sent down to her runabout. She then left for the Alben’s home in the Enchanted Forest.
“Thom, I have to leave for awhile,” she told him. “I’ll be back, sometime, to visit you, but… I don’t know when. If there’s anything… don’t hesitate to call me. I’m only an Omnicom message away.”
“It’s about Ennis Jahnson, isn’t it?” Thom asked.
Dori broke down in tears. Mrs. Albens moved to comfort her.
“Was it always so obvious?” Dori asked.
“There, there, dear,” said Mrs. Albens. “You know there are no real secrets on Jahnson’s World. Everybody knows everyone else’s business, and especially Dori Aandraison’s matters of the heart.”
“I’ll be okay, really,” Thom assured her. “If the Albens get sick of me, I can always go and live with the Gideons. They know how to take care of boys.”
When Dori got to the hangar, she almost expected—even hoped, perhaps—that Ennis Jahnson would be there, but it was empty, except for her runabout. She flew up to her cruiser, stowed the flyer away in the cargo bay, and set a course for Xolnar.
“It always comes back to Xolnar,” she thought to herself. “What was it the poet said? ‘Home is where when you have to go there, they have to take you in.’” She sighed. “But there’s no one there but me.”
“I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal.” -- Groucho Marx
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