ns again, picked a large one, glanced at the waiter. So far so
good ...

"Wine, sir?"

Brett indicated the neighboring couple. "The same as they're having."
The waiter turned away, returned holding a wine bottle, label toward
Brett. He looked at it, nodded. The waiter busied himself with the cork,
removing it with many flourishes, setting a glass before Brett, pouring
half an inch of wine. He waited expectantly.

Brett picked up the glass, tasted it. It tasted like wine. He nodded.
The waiter poured. Brett wondered what would have happened if he had
made a face and spurned it. But it would be too risky to try. No one
ever did it.

Couples danced, resumed their seats; others rose and took the floor. A
string ensemble in a distant corner played restrained tunes that seemed
to speak of the gentle faded melancholy of decorous tea dances on
long-forgotten afternoons. Brett glanced toward the fat man. He was
eating soup noisily, his napkin tied under his chin.

The waiter was back with a plate. "Lovely day, sir," he said.

"Great," Brett agreed.

The waiter placed a covered platter on the table, removed the cover,
stood with carving knife and fork poised.

"A bit of the crispy, sir?"

Brett nodded. He eyed the waiter surreptitiously. He looked real. Some
golems seemed realer than others; or perhaps it merely depended on the
parts they were playing. The man who had fallen at the parade had been
only a sort of extra, a crowd member. The waiter, on the other hand, was
able to converse. Perhaps it would be possible to learn something from
him ...

"What's ... uh ... how do you spell the name of this town?" Brett asked.

"I was never much of a one for spelling, sir," the waiter said.

"Try it."

"Gravy, sir?"

"Sure. Try to spell the name."

"Perhaps I'd better call the headwaiter, sir," the golem said stiffly.

From the corner of an eye Brett caught a flicker of motion. He whirled,
saw nothing. Had it been a Gel?

"Never mind," he said. The waiter served potatoes, peas, refilled the
wine glass, moved off silently. The question had been a little too
unorthodox, Brett decided. Perhaps if he led up to the subject more
obliquely ...

* * *

When the waiter returned Brett said, "Nice day."

"Very nice, sir."

"Better than yesterday."

"Yes indeed, sir."

"I wonder what tomorrow'll be like."

"Perhaps we'll have a bit of rain, sir."

Brett nodded toward the dance floor. "Nice orches