"What do you mean by a Mantram fix?" I asked her.

She paused by the camera and smiled at me. "I use your language," she
said. "In some of your legends you have the notion of a Mantram, or what
you consider magical spell. In one aspect the notion is of magical words
that can manipulate natural forces directly. The notion of a devil doll
is a little closer. Only instead of actual substance from the
subject--hair, fingernail parings, and so on--the Mantram matrix takes
the detailed force pattern of the subject, through the lens when it
forms. So, in your concepts, what results is an iconic Mantram. But it
operates both ways. You'll see what I mean by that."

With another placating smile she stepped behind the camera and without
warning light seemed to explode from the very air around me, without any
source. For a brief second I seemed to see--not a glittering lens--but a
black bottomless hole form in the metal circle at the front of the
camera. And--an experience I am familiar with now--I seemed to rush into
the bottomless darkness of that hole and back again, at the rate of
thousands of times a second, arriving at some formless destination and
each time feeling it take on more of form.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lana said.

I felt strangely detached, as though I were in two places at the same
time. I told her so.

"You'll get used to it," she assured me. "In fact, you will get to enjoy
it. _I_ do. Especially when I've made several prints."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Who are you? _What_ are you?"

"I'm a photographer!" Lana said. "I'm connected with the natural history
museum of the planet I live on. I go to various places and take
pictures, and they go into exhibits for the people to watch."

She pulled the curtain aside for me to leave.

"You're going to let me leave? Just like that?" I said.

"Of course." She smiled again. "You're free to go wherever you wish, to
your aunt's or back to Chicago. I was glad to get your portrait. In
return, I'll send you one of the prints. And would you like one of your
aunt's? Actually, when she came in to have her picture taken it was for
the purpose of sending it to you. She was my first customer. I've taken
a special liking to her and given her several pictures."

"Yes," I said. "I would like one of Aunt Matilda."

When I emerged from the shop I discovered to my surprise that the train
was just pulling into the depot. An urge to get far away from Sum