She stared for a while at the screen of the entertainment console, tapping her silver nails on the plastic coating. She made a mental note that the silver would need redoing in a couple of days. Maybe she should have something different this time, maybe metalflake.
She punched a button, and a show sprang into life. It was the fight games. Four naked L-4 children, with the numbers one to four tattooed on their backs in different colours, were struggling on the sandy floor of a small walled area. A commentary drawled out of the speakers.
‘… And don’t forget, the combatants have all been starved for two days and then given massive injections of dinamene to make them fierce and aggressive. Right now they are struggling over the piece of meat, and so far, none of them have noticed that there is a heavy steel bar in one corner of the arena …. And yes, number three has the meat, and one and two are both on him. You’ll notice that the combatants have their heads shaved to stop …’
A.A. Catto flicked the channel selector round and came up with two fixed smiling Hostess-1s attempting intercourse with a bored-looking donkey while gales of canned laughter roared from the speakers. She scowled at the screen and punched the off button.
She lay back down on the bed and rang for her personal Hostess. Moments later an almost too pretty blonde in tight pink covers stood in the doorway.
‘You rang, Miss?’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’d like to be served dinner here?’
‘Screw dinner, I only just woke up. I want breakfast.’
‘Shall I dial you a breakfast menu?’
A.A. Catto sat up and shook her head.
‘No, no. I’ll have orange juice, three poached eggs, wholemeal toast and coffee.’
The girl nodded.
‘Yes, Miss.’
A.A. Catto liked to order her food directly through servants rather than dial it for herself. She knew that the only time the girl would taste any of the menu would be if she stole her leftovers. The girl turned to go, but A.A. Catto called her back.
‘Tell me, girl, did you notice that I was naked?’
The girl coloured slightly and nodded.
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘You could hardly miss the fact?’
‘No, Miss.’
‘Do you like my body, girl?’
The girl blushed more.
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Do you think it’s a beautiful body?’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘More beautiful than your body?’
‘I think so, Miss.’
‘Yes? Why?’
‘Because you’re one of the directorate, Miss. The directorate are the most beautiful people in the whole citadel.’
A.A. Catto smiled. This girl had been well trained.
‘Tell me girl, would you like to touch my body? Would you like to handle it, play with it?’
The girl began to look frightened.
‘I think so, Miss. I think that would be a wonderful experience.’
Her training went deep. A.A. Catto laughed.
‘Well, you won’t get the chance. Go and get my breakfast.’
The girl hurried from the room. A.A. Catto stood up and reached for her robe. As she slipped into it, she smiled to herself. She really should try to resist baiting the servants, but it did relieve a few moments of boredom. She went back to the main console and punched for information. The screen flickered into life with the image of another pink uniformed Hostess-1. This time she was a brunette.
‘Information. May I help you?’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Tonight, Miss Catto?’
‘Not next year.’
‘Tonight the Glick family are giving a formal dinner for Cynara Meltzer at 22.00.’
A.A. Catto scowled at the screen.
‘Forget that. The Glicks are tiresome, Cynara Meltzer is tiresome, and the dinner will be tiresome. What else?’
‘At 24.00 there is to be a party given by Juno Meltzer.’
A.A. Catto raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes? Do you have any information as to what attractions she’s providing?’
‘No, Miss Catto, only that they are to be a surprise.’
A.A. Catto smiled. Juno Meltzer could be exceptionally wild at times. The surprises might even be surprising.
‘Anything else?’
‘I can get you the vu-screen schedules if you require them.’
A.A. Catto shook her head.
‘If that’s all, don’t bother.’
‘There is one thing, Miss Catto.’
‘What?’
‘I’m instructed to remind all callers that there is a full meeting of the directorate at 10.00 tomorrow.’
‘Yeah sure, you reminded me.’
She snapped off the screen, and wandered idly to the entrance of the balcony. It was almost dark outside, and the perspex blister gave a distorted reflection of herself and the lighted room.
There was a hiss behind her as the door slid open, and her Hostess-1 came in with the breakfast tray. She hesitated inside the doorway.
‘Would you like it here or in bed, Miss?’
‘Oh, I’ll go back to bed.’
The Hostess-1 nodded.
‘Yes, Miss.’
She carried the tray through into A.A. Catto’s bedroom, and A.A. Catto followed. She picked up the glass of orange juice and curled up on the bed.
‘Run my bath.’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘And then come back to attend me. You can help me bath, it’ll be another chance for you to look at my body. You might even get the chance to touch it.’
‘Thank you, Miss.’
A.A. Catto laughed.
‘You’re very well trained.’
‘Miss?’
‘Never mind, attend to the bath.’
The girl disappeared into the bathroom, and A A. Catto pushed a finger of toast into one of the eggs. The problem that remained was what to wear to Juno Meltzer’s party.
She finished toying with breakfast, and lit a cigarette. It was one of her personal blend, a lovingly reproduced mixture of Turkish tobacco and ground Nepalese hashish. As she smoked it, she reflected on the time and trouble it must have taken to obtain the contents of the cigarette. She flicked the ash over the remains of the meal. A.A. Catto took a primitive delight in spoiling food.
The Hostess-1 returned to tell her that the bath was ready, and A.A. Catto crossed the bedroom, slipped out of her robe and stepped into the sunken tub.
After she was dry again and the Hostess-1 had massaged her and done her hair, she asked for the peacock cape outfit to be laid out. She had had it hand made from an archaic print that she had discovered one bored afternoon in the directorate library. She had added some modifications of her own, and it seemed suitably perverse for Juno Meltzer’s party.
For a while she sat naked in front of the pink glass mirror, studying her face and body. It pleased her to think how many of the sub-class women in the citadel took their idea of beauty from her vid-lounge image.
She had herself made-up, and then stood up so the Hostess-1 could perfume and dress her. Once finally dressed, she turned.
‘What time is it?’
‘23.35, Miss.’
‘Damn, that means I have an hour to kill, I can’t possibly turn up on time. Switch the screen to an entertainment channel.’
The girl hurried to the console, punched buttons, and a bloody battle with tanks and infantry sprang into roaring life. Four men crouched behind a rock were incinerated by a burst of flame that lashed from the turret of a tank.
‘Change the channel.’
A dozen or more couples writhed and squirmed in a tank of black oily liquid, to a background of electronic music.
‘God no, try another.’
A comedian appeared, going through some sort of rapid-fire patter.
‘Forget the channels.’
‘What would you like, Miss?’
‘A fast burst of 91 k.’
After the quick, pleasant radiation bath, she dismissed the girl and, careful not to crush her dress and cape, she sat for half an hour watching an ancient movie. Then she shut down the console and picked up the box that held her injectors. She gently pulled up her long black skirt and pressed the one marked altacaine against her thigh, and gasped with pleasure as the first rush of the drug rocketed round her system. She pressed the button twice more. That would see her flying for at least twenty hours.