"That again? Do you remember creating me, Master?" she asked mockingly,
bending to loosen the strap on one shoe.
"I had been thinking--about women," he said grimly. "I might have
created you while I was asleep. Why shouldn't my subconscious mind
have as much power as my conscious mind? I would have equipped you
with a memory, given you a background. You would have been extremely
plausible. And if my subconscious mind _did_ create you, then it would
make certain that my conscious mind would never know."
"You're ridiculous!"
"Because if my conscious mind knew," he went on relentlessly, "it
would reject your existence. Your entire function, as a creation of my
subconscious, would be to keep me from knowing. To prove, by any means
in your power, by any logic, that you were--"
"Let's see you make a woman, then, if your mind is so good!" She
crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, giving a single sharp
nod.
"All right." He stared at the cave wall and a woman started to appear.
It took shape sloppily, one arm too short, legs too long. Concentrating
harder, he was able to make its proportions fairly true. But its eyes
were set at an odd angle; its shoulders and back were sloped and
twisted. He had created a shell without brains or internal organs,
an automaton. He commanded it to speak, but only gulps came from the
shapeless mouth; he hadn't given it any vocal apparatus. Shuddering,
he destroyed the nightmare figure.
"I'm not a sculptor," he said. "Nor am I God."
"I'm glad you finally realize that."
"That still doesn't prove," he continued stubbornly, "that _you're_
real. I don't know what my subconscious mind is capable of."
"Make something for me," she said abruptly. "I'm tired of listening to
this nonsense."
_I've hurt her feelings_, he thought. _The only other human on Earth
and I've hurt her._ He nodded, took her by the hand and led her
out of the cave. On the flat plain below he created a city. He had
experimented with it a few days back, and it was much easier this time.
Patterned after pictures and childhood dreams of the Thousand and One
Nights, it towered black and white and rose. The walls were gleaming
ruby, and the gates were of silver-stained ebony. The towers were red
gold, and sapphires glittered in them. A great staircase of milky
ivory climbed to the highest opal spire, set with thousands of steps
of veined marble. There were lagoons of blue water, and little birds
fluttered above them, and silver and gold fish darted through the still
depths.
They walked through the city, and he created roses for her, white and
yellow and red, and gardens of strange blossoms. Between two domed
and spired buildings he created a vast pool of water; on it he put a
purple-canopied pleasure barge, loading it with every kind of food and
drink he could remember.
* * * * *
They floated across the lagoon, fanned by the soft breeze he had
created.
"And all this is false," he reminded her after a little while.