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. Stairs
are a hazard to an amputee and a painful chore at best. Elevators have always
been a dreary expedient for anyone, as grim as a fat woman's girdle, too much
like cattle cars.
But drop tubes offer the same giddy excitement as jumping off a straw stack
on my uncle's farm when I was a kid- without the dust and the heat. Whoopee!
Finally Hazel stopped me. "Look, dear. Let's go swimming.
Please."
"Okay. You coming with us, Teena?"
"How else?"
Hazel said, "Do you have us bugged, dear? Or one of us?" "We no longer use
implants. Hazel. Too crude. Zeb and I worked out a gimmick using a double triple
to hold four axes in linking two-way sight-sound. Color is a bit skiddy but
we're getting it."
"So you do have us bugged." "I prefer to call it a 'spy ray'; it sounds
better. Okay, I have you bugged."
"So I assumed. May we have privacy? I have family matters to discuss with
my husband."
"Sure thing, chum. Hospital monitoring only. Otherwise three little monkeys
and the old fast wipe."
"Thank you, dear."
"Usual Long Enterprises service. When you want to crawl out from under the
rock, just mention my name. Kiss him once for me. So long!"
"We really do have privacy now, Richard. Teena is listening and watching
you every split second but doing so as impersonally as a voltmeter and her only
memory not transient is for matters such as pulse and respiration
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