““You can read my mind if you like.” Trent stopped in sudden realization. “My God. You can read my mind. You may,” he said hurriedly, “be the first person I ever make understand this. Listen. I can say something to you, Denice, but all I’ve done is make the air move. I’ve caused no sensation in you; you cause whatever effect is achieved, based on how you interpret what I’ve said.” Carrying a robe and towel, the ’bot stopped at Denice’s side, and in Johnny Johnny’s voice said, “Your robe, ’Selle.” “Thank you.” Denice took the robe, a pale yellow thing too large for her by several sizes, stood holding it and looking at Trent. “If I want to change your behavior,” said Trent, only slightly more slowly, “I can talk to you and attempt to persuade you. I can, if I have enough Credit, attempt to purchase a change in your behavior. If neither of those options work, I can threaten you and attempt to change your behavior that way.” He leaned forward, spoke more intensely. “If that doesn’t work – and it tends not to – I can attempt to damage you, either physically or mentally. I don’t think, Denice, that it is ethical to damage other people physically if you can avoid it. But when I take something that belongs to, say, a Player whose behavior I find inappropriate, or a small businessman who’s harming the people he deals with, or when I steal from an ecstasy peddler, I’ve touched that person. They can’t ignore what I’m saying to them. They can’t.” Denice stared at him. “You mean – you steal things – so people will listen to you?” “No, no, no,” said Trent impatiently. “Don’t be silly. Nobody ever listens anyhow. Mostly I steal things because I get paid for it.” He grinned at her. “But isn’t that a great explanation?””
