"Do you see anything interesting?" Gale asked.
"My sun and my moon, and all between," he answered. "I can never see enough of either of you."
"Then we should show you more," Monochrome said. With that both women shrugged out of their garments and stood nude in all their splendor.
"You know what this means," Havoc said with mock grimness. "I will have to do you simultaneously. Am I man enough?"
"Verification," Gale said as both advanced on him. In moments they had him stripped and on the bed on his back.
Gale took his upper section, kissing him as she set his hands on her breasts. Monochrome took his lower section, bestriding him and taking his standing member into her mouth. Gale ran her tongue into his mouth as Monochrome drew deliciously on his member. "Love," Gale whispered in his ear as he jetted into Monochrome's throat.
They then switched places. Monochrome sat on his face, proffering her cleft for his tongue, while Gale sat on his member, squeezing it with her channel. As his tongue probed the one, his member gushed into the other. As a Glamor he could do it, as they knew. So could they; now both climaxed in unison, answering to his dual attentions to their clefts.
Then they lay on either side of him, their breasts and thighs pressing close. "What does the love machine have that we don't?" Monochrome asked.
"I haven't even seen the expletive machine!" he protested.
"But you'll be into her before the night is out," Gale said.
"Negation!"
"Penalty," Monochrome said.
"You lied," Gale agreed.
"How do you know?"
"We know you," Monochrome said. "She's female."
"And Voila told us," Gale said. "She had it from Idyll."
Then they made him do them both again. And again.
Satisfied that they had punished him enough, they quickly washed, dressed, and departed.
Ennui appeared. "She is here. Put something on, Havoc."
For he was sitting on the bed, naked, his spent member dribbling, where the two lovers had left him. They had prepared him for the first encounter with the machine by depleting him to the extent feasible for a Glamor.
"Is there no protocol?" he demanded as he dressed. "Doesn't she have to get clearance, go through customs, or something?"
"Not on Charm. The paths steer her right to you. If we inhibited her, it would be war with the machines." She produced a comb and touched up his mussed hair in motherly fashion.
He was tempted to kiss her, just to discommode her. He suppressed it; she was not one of his girls. "It will be war with the machines anyway, starting with her."
"Havoc, stop blustering. This is serious business. She is our first direct contact with the machine culture." She straightened his collar and led him out of the suite, to her office.
An inoffensive young woman was waiting there, evidently a human handmaid assigned to guide the visiting machine. Her blue dress, matching slippers, and matching headband served to accent her excellent figure. He checked her mind routinely. And paused. "Oh, no!" For it was no human mind. It was an alien device.
"Shee, this is King Havoc," Ennui said, introducing them. "Havoc, this is Shee Robot, SHEE, representing the machine culture."
The form of the young woman made a gesture of obeisance. "Honored," she murmured.
Havoc just looked at her. She was small, the top of her head hardly reaching to his shoulder. Her hair was glossy and of indeterminate color, shifting from blond to red to brown according to the highlights that changed as she moved.
Her eyes were subtly iridescent, their color also undefined. Her form was man's desire, and so were her lovely features.
In fact she was, in her special fashion, a beauty to match that of Gale and Monochrome.
"But I am a machine," she said. Even her voice was gently evocative. "I will never deceive you, Havoc."
Havoc looked at Ennui, but she was expressionless. This was a situation he had to handle by himself. "Let's take a walk," he said. "Is there anything you would like to see?"
"Trees," she said raptly. "I love trees."
And he was the Glamor of Trees. That could be no coincidence. She had truly been crafted to appeal to him. His mind rebelled against so obvious a ploy. He took her to a small internal city park, because it was night outside. It was quickly apparent that she really did like trees—and they liked her. That surprised him. How could a living thing care about a machine?
She put her hand on a ripe plumb. "May I?"
"Welcome." What would she do with it?
She plucked it and put it to her mouth. She bit into it, chewing. "You eat?" he asked, surprised.
"I can eat," she agreed. "I do not have to, but in social situations it is better to join in, and I need to be able to pass for human at your convenience." She took another bite.
"What happens to it?"
"I can digest it, and utilize its energy to restore my power supply. I can process wastes in similar manner to that of living things. Or I can store its nourishment for the use of living creatures." She finished the plum.
"You ate the pit!" he exclaimed.
She paused. "I forgot. I can regurgitate it, if you wish."
"Needless," he said quickly. "A machine can forget?"
"A machine can temporarily misplace information. I have not eaten before, so overlooked a nuance. I can process all of it. I will be more accurate in future."
Had she really forgotten, or was she showing him something? She had evidently had no trouble with the pit.
She walked among the collections of small trees, admiring each. Then she stopped. "This is wrong."
"It is a coneless pine," Havoc said. "A special type."
"It is not doing well. The light is wrong."
"It is artificial, crafted to suit the indoor trees. They have done well for years."
"Not this one," she said. "See, it is spindly and poorly leafed. It needs a different kind of light."
"Question?"
"Can you fetch an alternate device of illumination? It shouldn't hurt the other trees, but will help this one."
Havoc took her to the bulb supply. "This," she said, selecting one. She took it and substituted it for the existing one. The power from the Silver Chroma stone flowed through it, and it illuminated the region.
There was no apparent change in the plant.
"It doesn't know," she said. "It remains defensive. I will tell it."
This was curious indeed. "Question?"
"Music can be a key. I will try." She opened her purse, which Havoc had not noticed before, and brought out a pair of conch-like shells from some alien ocean. She held them in her two hands, flexing her fingers. The shells squeezed together and expanded, turning out to be soft surfaced.
And music came out. These were wind instruments, with the air pumped through by the rhythmic squeezing. One shell played a delicate melody, and the other did counterpoint. Together they made a lovely duet. It was an unfamiliar melody, not quite like any that Havoc had encountered before. That surprised him, because as Hayseed the Minstrel he had encountered most of the melodies of the planet, and of Earth too. Definitely alien, on an alien tone scale, but also very pretty and evocative.
And the plant responded. Its needles firmed, and its main stem straightened. It sought the light.
Shee put away the shells. "Now it will prosper," she said. Havoc knew she was correct; he felt the mending of the small tree. She had fathomed its problem in a manner he had not, and cured it.
She looked at him. "Apology for intruding on your demesnes," she said. "When I saw it hurting, I forgot myself. I should have asked you first."