Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail by Jack L. Chalker Page A

shook my head slowly, trying to decide if I was being put on. My wits returning, I realized that what she was telling me made perfect sense from the TMS viewpoint. You couldn’t carry in anything without taking it out of your clothing first, and being totally nude was the ultimate invasion of privacy, somehow. Now, I’d gone nude in mixed company many times, usually on plush resort worlds with seaside villas, and never thought anything of it. But this was a whole different kind of experience, and it took some getting used to.
    She held out the bag. “Come on—before the Monitor sees you. Off and in the bag.”
    I sighed and decided that it wouldn’t be in character if I caved in too easily. “But—you’re a girl!” I was suddenly very cautious, mentally. The mere fact that I hadn’t been called on such a rule indicated to me that they were observing my behavior and how I acclimated socially. The fact that I was fourteen was some protection, but it wasn’t total. I had to assume that any government capable of putting a superhuman robot in the most secret rooms of Military Systems Command could easily know about the Merton Process and deduce the truth given half a chance. She stood up straight and shook her head at me in wonder. “Are all people Outside so shy and upset by so simple a thing?”
    Her question told me two facts straight off, if she was indeed what she seemed. First, she was a native of this world, and, second, I was the first person from “Outside”—that is, outside the Warden Diamond, and maybe even outside of Medusa—she’d ever met. Ordinarily such knowledge would give me some advantage and leeway in slips, but I couldn’t assume that whoever was monitoring me was as inexperienced or naive.
    I sighed, gave in, and removed my clothes, tossing them into the common bag. She tied the bag off and left it on the floor. “I’m Ching Lu Kor,” she introduced herself. “Ah—you are Tarin Bul?”
    I nodded nervously. “Uh huh.”
    She looked me over mock-critically. “You’re not so bad. I always heard people Outside were all soft and flabby, but you look pretty good.”
    I shuffled nervously, creating my proper persona as I went. “Uh—I haven’t had a lot of exercise in a while, but I made do.”
    She sat down on the corner of the bed opposite mine.
    “What’d you do to get sent here? Or shouldn’t I ask that?”
    I shrugged and sat back on my bed. “I executed the murderer of my father,” I told her. “Nobody else would.”
    She frowned and appeared to be a little taken aback by that. Clearly a crime of that magnitude was hard for someone brought up in a totalitarian world like Medusa to fathom. But clearly she understood the implications of the act, even if it seemed impossible to her. She even seemed impressed. A romantic, I decided.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked suddenly, getting away from the subject. “I’m starved—I’ve just come off shift. You’re lucky—no work until 1600 tomorrow.” She jumped up from the bed. “Come on. We have to drop off the laundry anyway. Then you can tell me all about Outside, and I can tell you all about here.”
    That seemed a fair trade, but I decided some hesitation was in order. “We go eat—like this?”
    She laughed. “You really are hung up, aren’t you? They’ll have a psych on you if you don’t relax a little.” She turned and waved at the room. “Besides, somebody’s always looking at you anyway. What’s the difference?”
    She had a point there. I let her pick up the clothes bag and followed her out the door, then stopped. “Hey—what about the cards?”
    Obviously I had said something funny again. “You don’t need cards in your own home,” she responded as she headed for the stairs.
    She was certainly right about nudity. Old, young, male, female—everyone walked about and sat and talked with no inhibitions at all. Here and there would be people in uniform, either somebody with rank who wanted everybody else to