"Of course," Morrison said, feeling his smile grow stiff. "The name's Tom Morrison. You can just check—"
"Oh, I don't do that personally," the woman said. "Hold that canteen steady. Here we go."
Gripping the canteen in both hands, Morrison watched as the water, 'ported four thousand miles from Venusborg, appeared as a slender crystal stream above the mouth of his canteen. The stream entered the canteen, making a wonderful gurgling sound. Watching it, Morrison found his dry mouth actually was beginning to salivate.
Then the water stopped.
"What's the matter?" Morrison asked.
His video screen went blank. Then it cleared, and Morrison found himself staring into a man's narrow face. The man was seated in front of a large desk. The sign in front of him read Milton P. Reade, Vice President, Accounts.