"In response to your ad. How do you do, Mr. Gorka?"
She hoped she wasn't being too formal. But, then, there was no sense in
assuming that he would like informality. She could only wait and see
and adjust her own actions to suit him. Meanwhile, it would be best to
keep on the middle of the road.
"I am fine. Are you ready?"
"Ready?"
"Certainly. You came in response to my ad. You want to hear me talk, do
you not?"
"I--do." Matilda had had visions of her prince charming sitting back
and relaxing with her, telling her of the many things he had done and
seen. But first she certainly would have liked to get to _know_ the
man. Well, Haron Gorka obviously had more experience along these lines
than she did. He waited, however, as if wondering what to say, and
Matilda, accustomed to social chatter, gave him a gambit.
"I must admit I was surprised when I got exactly what I wanted for
dinner," she told him brightly.
"Eh? What say? Oh, yes, naturally. A combination of telepathy and
teleportation. The synthetic cookery is attuned to your mind when you
press the buzzer, and the strength of your psychic impulses determines
how closely the meal will adjust to your desires. The fact that the
adjustment here was near perfect is commendable. It means either that
you have a high psi-quotient, or that you were very hungry."
"Yes," said Matilda vaguely. Perhaps it might be better, after all, if
Haron Gorka were to talk to her as he saw fit.
"Ready?"
"Uh--ready."
"Well?"
"Well, what, Mr. Gorka?"
"What would you like me to talk about?"
"Oh, anything."
"Please. As the ad read, my universal experience--is universal.
Literally. You'll have to be more specific."
"Well, why don't you tell me about some of your far travels?
Unfortunately, while I've done a lot of reading, I haven't been to all
the places I would have liked--"
"Good enough. You know, of course, how frigid Deneb VII is?"