here arose a penthouse, low and irregularly
shaped like some organic outcropping of native rock. It could hardly be
said that it had walls, overgrown as was the stone by creepers and built
into the shape of massive pillars. The structure seemed a kind of
Stonehenge improved upon by America's late great architect Frank Lloyd
Wright. There were birch shade trees around the house, the leaves
whispering in the breeze. From some crevice in the rock came the
peaceful murmurings of a spring. A meandering little brook criss-crossed
the gravel path under Lee's feet. From a stone table which might have
belonged to some Pharaoh there came the only incongruous noise in this
bucolic idyll; it was the nervous ticking of a typewriter, which stopped
abruptly at Lee's approach, and the melodious contralto voice he had
already heard over the phone greeted him. "Oh--it's Dr. Lee from
Canberra University, isn't it? I'm so happy to meet you. Please, do sit
down. How was your trip? I'm Oona Dahlborg, Dr. Scriven's secretary."

Lee blinked. Out of this world as was this Stone Age cabin in the sky,
even more so was the girl. He had a vivid image of American girls as
they had been when he had left the States way back in '49; in fact, he
had an all too vivid memory of at least one of them. His memory had been
refreshed within the last hour at the airport, at the hotel, at the
receptionist's, and it had been confirmed: they still wore masks instead
of their true faces, they still were overdressed, overloud, oversexed,
overhung with trinkets and their voices still resounded shrilly from the
roof of their mouths.

This girl Oona Dahlborg was different. He raked his brains to find some
concept which would express how she was different. The word "organic"
came to mind; yes, as one looked at her one sensed a unity of being, a
creatural whole compared to which those other girls appeared as
artificial composites.

She was tall for a girl, the pure Scandinavian type, and she looked like
a young Viking with the golden helmet of her hair gleaming in the sun.
She wore a tunic, short, sleeveless and of classic simplicity, the kind
of dress which once Diana wore. It revealed the splendor of her slender
figure and stressed the length of her full white limbs. On the black of
the tunic an antique necklace of large amber beads formed the only
ornament. The bow or the spear of the great huntress whom she resembled
so much would have looked more natural in her ha