They were having this pulp convention..."She was shoving me back in the direction of the car. I wisely decided not to argue. "I've been trying to call...you!" she shouted accusingly.Now, I WAS feeling guilty. "I ... uh ... set my cell phone to vibrate because we were in a theater watching outtakes from the first Johnny Weissmuller movie," I tried to explain. "I forgot to ... uh..." I gave it up and climbed behind the wheel. "Where are we going?"She shushed me and worked frantically with the GPS. She pushed the door open and walked in, gaze straight ahead. She saw Claude out of the corner of her eye, reading something, and a sharp pang went through her.She ignored it and reached her seat without incident. Everything that had happened ran through her brain again, rekindling her queasiness, but that, too, passed.The robots served the meal.She ate without enthusiasm; ate because she knew she could be forced into the corner again.How? she thought. How can he force me to do that?Not just the. More

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