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"Ecktor . . ." There was the impression of a sigh. "We have a great deal of
data. We also have a great deal of garbage. Making sense out of it is
something else. We also are having trouble with the equipment in the
residential block enough that I can say that there's a significant ENF
differential between the marcyb troopers and the officers."
"So the marcybs are constructs?"
"They're totally biological, but there have been some significant changes.
We're working on it. That's all I can say."
"Ecktor," added Arielle, "it isn't easy. We're skirting the Construct to do
this, because this kind of observation implies mistrust, and that doesn't make
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it any easier." The stormy darkangel projected currents of frustration and
determination.
"I understand. Let me know."
For a time longer, I stood at the window, enjoying the almost imperceptible
flow of cold air off the glass as I watched draffs and demis walk the paths of
the park below. One or two looked back at the admin building, but most just
walked.
Thrap.
At the tap on the door, I turned. Keiko stood there, trim, muscular, black on
black.
"I'm leaving now, Coordinator, unless there's anything else you need."
"I'm sure there is, but I don't know what."
That got a brief and white-flashed smile.
"I'll leave it on the system. I'll probably go straight to the tower tomorrow
for the ruins tour. If anything should happen, let K'gaio know, and dump the
entire Coordinator bank on her. She's stand-by Coordinator."
"I hope nothing happens."
"So do I."
She inclined her head and was gone.
Next came what I'd put off a system-by-system check of the maintenance status
of the locial hardening and defense emplacements and systems, beginning with
Deseret.
When I reemerged from the maintenance net an hour later, I'd noted and flagged
more discrepancies than existed in routine reports, and the extra comptime for
the supervisors involved wasn't going to set well. Then again, unnecessary
casualties wouldn't set well, either.
I took a deep breath and slumped back in the green swivel. It squeaked loudly
enough that I winced, then took another deep breath.
The sky remained gray, with swirls of intermittent snow. My soul remained
gray, with swirls of intermittent ice. Before long Parwon would darken, its
lights almost the only sparkles in the night for klicks and klicks the
individual illuminations of isolated demi households lost in the vastness of
De-seret.
I was hungry, and I didn't want to cook. I also didn't want to eat cold cheese
and bread, my usual escape from preparing something.
So I closed up the office and walked down the steps to the main level. The
wind swirled around me as I stepped from the admin building into the incipient
twilight and headed west toward Dhozer's. A scattering of wet brown leaves lay
across the tan grass of the park, and the air smelled of damp leaves,
evergreens, and soil.
Two couples walked ahead of me, conversing, while two young girls walked in
front of them, sometimes skipping, sometimes lagging until the adults almost
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walked into them. Then the children would skip ahead, only to repeat the
process. The six of them turned right, crossed Jung (the street that bordered
the front of the admin building), and strolled down the walk beside Hammurabi
Lane.
Dhozer's wasn't much more than a converted cinqplex seven hundred meters from
the admin building. According to Dhozer, most of his food was "authentic
Graecian." While it was tasty, I had my doubts about its authenticity.
A gust of colder wind whipped through my hair as I reached Dhozer's,
foreshadowing the clear if colder weather headed our way. I stepped under the
overhanging eaves. The pair of bronze urns and the shielded tapers flanking
the dark carved front door were the only indications of a commercial
establishment.
I was earlier than most diners, and Dhozer greeted me himself.
"Ecktor, or is it Coordinator Ecktor now?" His short-cut black hair curled in
ringlets, and set off his pale olive skin.
The restaurant smelled of wood smoke, cooking oils, and spices, and the warm
air inside was humid, a relief after the cold damp outside. Metabolic control
doesn't always make you feel better.
"Ecktor is fine. It's better for longevity."
"Who wants to live forever?"
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