Mortal Gods

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Nick Harmon ascended Post 14 to Morgan Grim’s office wondering if this time he was going to be fired. He had fouled up occasionally during his three years in the Public Relations Department at Mutagen Laboratories, but yesterday had been the worst.

A technical paper had been delivered to his robo-sec describing a revolutionary breakthrough in “random mutation prediction.” Nick’s responsibility was to rewrite it, making it intelligible to the general public, and to distribute it to the news magasettes and holovision stations throughout the Federation of Worlds.

The problem was that Nick hadn’t come to work at all that day. Breakfasting at the club he had run into Althea Clinger, an old girl friend of his, and at her suggestion they had visited one of the islands in the sky, an isolated place of sleepy lagoons and rainbow-plumed peacocks. There they had fucked all day and bathed under waterfalls and dozed on mosses, soft as down.

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