The Ambassador Read Online Free Page A

environmentally friendlier.And you can talk to them, and they don’t answer back.’
    ‘Helps if you have to go find a lost doggie, yeah?’ The King’s eyes were shining. A smile played on Marius’s lips.
    ‘We don’t lose ’em, sir. Every beast is microchipped at birth and we can track ’em by satellite. But, yes, we do have to go dig ’em out of odd places sometimes.’
    ‘Your life sounds much more entertaining than mine,’ the King replied wistfully. ‘Still, I’m born to it. I ride for ceremonial occasions; the tourists love to see me. I think that’s the main justification of my existence, really.’
    Born to it . Strether swallowed. The President had said the King must be – born to it. No, bred to it. The King was the first of those – what was it? – NTs – he had met up close. The first, at any rate, of whom he had been aware. Though maybe the Lord Chamberlain was too. How could you tell? Of course, such people appeared on US television and he had seen documentaries on how it was done, but never before had he breathed the same air as one. He studied the young face thrust eagerly so near to his, and began a rambling saga of a night lost on the prairie to give himself time to think.
    Absolute prejudice dominated discussion at home about these matters. Wild and frightening tales circulated, designed to bolster the prohibition against such practices. Yet the King looked perfectly normal. Everything moved and functioned precisely as it was supposed to: the blue eyes shone, the skin creased convincingly, the hair was evidently not retouched, though trimmed close to the scalp. An earring gleamed discreetly in one ear. The front teeth were capped, but that was common enough among public figures. He bore a strong resemblance to Diana, Princess of Wales, his great-great-grandmother, but that, too, could have been engineered. It could all have been false; it could all have been real. How was a newcomer to know?
    Strether faltered. It dawned on him that he had expected NTs to be more android in appearance, with some tell-tale indication of their origin. The image in his mind was of a manufactured human. He wrestled inwardly and spun out his story as the King peppered him with questions. This youth was something made, manipulated – a Frankenstein’s monster. Strether realised he had been convinced (if subconsciously) that such creatures must have a mark to give them away. Nothing as crude as a piece of metal protruding from their necks, or extra nostrils or deformed earlobes. But something, surely. The President had said not. It was a shock to realise that the President must be correct. With no signs, that made it harder. Strether bit his lip.
    Prince Marius had been observing him. ‘Ambassador, if you are new to our continent perhaps you will do me the honour of allowing me to show you around?’ The slight accent betrayed that English was not his first language. Another NT, probably. His hair and eyes were dark: not, then, the same genetic material as the King, despite the description ‘cousin’.
    ‘That’d be kind of you,’ Strether accepted gratefully. ‘I’d like to see – everything, I guess.’
    ‘Well, we’ll fix that,’ the Prince replied. He turned to the King. ‘Our other guests should have arrived. Perhaps, now that the official business is done, we can move to the Music Room? I ordered lunch to be set out there. It’s so much cosier than the State Dining Room, don’t you agree?’
    It had been done so elegantly. Strether felt checked over, categorised and madewelcome all at once, through a faultless performance that must have been repeated many times. The Prince’s invitation must mean he had passed muster. Still, he felt uneasy.
     
    Obediently Strether followed as the King, still talking animatedly, led the way through great carved doors, some of which needed both hands tugging hard to open. Marius brought up the rear. Strether had expected uniformed flunkeys, but apart from