“This alternate world, where I met the woman like you,” he said. “It resembles Proton in geography, but it has good air and water and vegetation, and a population of living creatures. An ideal world, except—“ He paused. “Remember, I warned you. In that world, called Phaze, science is inoperative and magic is operative.”
“Magic is operative,” she replied, humoring him.
“Yes. He took me to that world, where unicorns and werewolves and vampires roam, and he made some spells and became the Blue Adept, one of the leading magicians of that frame. But he had been killed by another Adept. So I served as his bodyguard, and I guarded his wife—who is you.”
“You’re right,” Bluette said seriously. “This is beyond belief. I do appreciate your imagination, and am sure you do excellently in the Lying Game in competition, and consider myself honored to be the subject of your present fantasy. How does this relate to our kidnapping?”
“The enemy Adept is evidently another curtain-crosser,” Hulk continued gamely, “operating in both frames. Unable to destroy the Blue Adept permanently in Phaze, he has been setting traps for him here in Proton. The enemy evidently thought the Blue Adept would come for you, so he arranged to abduct whoever approached you, apart from your Employer and routine serfs. But this trap got the wrong man.”
“How can you court the wife of your friend?” she asked alertly. In no way was Bluette slow of wit; Stile had discovered that early, when dealing with her alternate.
“Most people exist in both frames. When the self of one frame dies, the self of the other can cross over, filling his place. When the Blue Adept died, his Proton-self crossed over—and courted the widow, the Lady Blue. But he felt it would be improper also to court her Proton-self, who is you, Bluette.”
“And he allows you to approach me instead, since I am surplus?”
“There are no surplus diamonds,” Hulk said. “Every precious thing has a taker. He is a generous man. Lady. He loves you, but will take only the one he first came to know. There is something more to his interest than your likeness, I suspect.”
“I should hope so. And you accede to this? You seem to be man enough to have your pick of women. Why accept the castoff of your friend? Is he even more powerful than you appear to be?”
“In a manner of speaking. Lady. It seems we are similar in many respects, including our taste in women. I cannot explain it better.”
“I think you can. You were with his wife?”
“I guarded his wife from the possible threat by his enemy, during his absences. I came to know her, the deep and unique qualities of her. I am an honorable man; when I realized what was happening, I left.”
“What do you mean, what was happening?” she demanded. “Were I the wife of one, I would not be leading on another.”
“No, never!” Hulk agreed hastily. “You—I mean the Lady Blue—never in any way—it was wholly in my mind, a one-sided thing. But in this frame she is not his wife, and will never be; he intends never to meet her. Meet thee. You. Thus I came for you, her perfect double.”
“Less swift, man. I have not quite made the transition from your dream fancy to your reality.” She cocked her head. “What is your name?”
“Hulk. From an ancient comic.”
She smiled. “I was named after a fine horse.”
They laughed, warming to each other.
“Well, Hulk,” she said after a moment. “Whatever gave you the notion that any self of mine would be amenable to any suit of yours? Why should I flirt with a bodyguard, in either, ah, frame?”
Hulk spread his hands. “How you receive it is your business. I had to try. You can but decline.”
“Still, there must have been a point of decision.”
Hulk nodded. “I suppose there was. In Phaze-frame life abounds, including bacterial and viral. I had little natural defense against environmental disease agents, since Proton is nearly sterile.” He paused, reflecting. “In more ways than one, I suspect.” He made a gesture to indicate that it didn’t matter. “I fell sick. The Lady Blue recognized the problem; she bade me lie down, and she laid her hands on me, and they were healing hands, that warmed me through-out.”
“Ah, yes,” Stile said, momentarily breaking out of the spell of the holograph narrative. “I have felt the touch of those hands.”
“You are not jealous?” Sheen asked. “I inquire merely as a point of robotic interest.”
“Meaning you’re jealous,” he said. “You think the Lady Blue is too pretty.”
“If appearance were all that counted, I might compete. I think she has too much of your attention.”
“Not in this frame. Hulk left her to me in Phaze; I leave her to him, in Proton. It was not a completely easy decision for either of us. But yes, I am jealous. It is hard for me to watch another man courting her.”
“And harder to watch her responding. Serves you right.”
“Serves me right,” he agreed.
