One of the men lifted up the goblet so the illumination reflected from
it, highlighting subtle rainbow whorls in the surface. He swirled his
wine before he sipped it.
"Very nice, Lurton, and the glass here is pretty top stuff."
"The wine came from Earth but the glassware came with the asteroid,
Jeff. This place has so much in it that I haven't found a hundredth of
what it contains, but all of it is high quality."
The men relaxed in the comfortable chairs. The chairs automatically
adjusted to the body weight and shape of whoever sat in them. Soft,
almost imperceptible music was playing in the background. A light
fragrance in the air eased tensions and sharpened minds for thought.
Zimbardo had nothing to do with creating this atmosphere-these features
came on automatically whenever anyone entered the room.
"Petty soft life you got here, Zimbardo," sighed the man named Lorry,
easing himself down into his chair. "I'm not used to this kind of
comfort."
"No, Lorry, I guess not. You don't find too many easy chairs aboard the
kind of ships you pilot when you're transporting the Banjoman's flilox
to his customers in the Belt. But when our plan succeeds, you'll be
able to buy all the soft chairs you want. Let's get down to business."
Zimbardo stood before the assembled company.
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