"Did you notice," he asked, "that there was no apparent change in clothing and makeup, yet she seemed younger, more attractive?"
"I didn't think you could trace her that far."
"I can't. I looked at her through your eyes."
"Don't trust my reaction," advised Cassal. "It's likely to be subjective."
"I don't," answered Dimanche. "It is."
Cassal hummed thoughtfully. Dimanche was a business neurological instrument. It didn't follow that it was an expert in human psychology.
Cassal stared at the woman coming toward him. Center-of-the-Galaxy fashion. Decadent, of course, or maybe ultra-civilized. As an Outsider, he wasn't sure which. Whatever it was, it did to the human body what should have been done long ago.
And this body wasn't exactly human. The subtle skirt of proportions betrayed it as an offshoot or deviation from the human race. Some of the new sub-races stacked up against the original stock much in the same way Cro-Magnons did against Neanderthals, in beauty, at least.