Lawrence Watt-Evans: Realms of Light

First Street was malled. I strolled down theright-hand traffic lane watching the displays, admiring the way thefloaters picked out the best-dressed people in the crowd for theirpitches. That made it pretty clear why some of the really richpeople I’d met didn’t show it.

The floaters ignored me-I couldn’t afford todress well, and probably wouldn’t have bothered to anyway. I gotthe lightshows, though, and the directional pitches, and the scenttraps. There was one place almost lured me in, a neurochemicaljoint-it wasn’t that their own pitch was so great, though the odorswere just fine, but I was distracted by a beefcake show across thecorner and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Theyprobably had some sort of subliminals going; I was right at thedoor when I realized I didn’t want to go in.

After that I picked up the pace, and got tothe Sakai building around 19:30.

I wasn’t there for the meeting yet, I justwanted to scout out the place, see if there really was any chancefor an ambush. I figured I’d look it over, get some dinner, lookaround town a little more, and still be at the meet a few minutesearly.

Didn’t happen.

I strolled up the black glass corridorbetween a bughouse and a gene boutique and found the lobby-big roomwith blue carpet, pink ceiling, and more of the black glass walls.A line of floaters was hanging along one side, right up by theceiling.

The minute I set foot in the room one of thembeeped me-a slick blue and silver one, general purpose, veryglossy. The rest ignored me, just hung there, but this one zippedover.

“No names,” it said, “I know who you are.You’re early.”

“Damn it, I’m not here at all,” I said. “Notyet.” I looked over at the line of floaters; they were shifting alittle, closing up the gap my buddy had left.

“Don’t confuse me,” my glittery little friendsaid.

“Then don’t talk to me,” I told it. I turnedto go.

It fizzed for a second, then called,“Wait!”

I gave it the three-finger curse. “The hell Iwill,” I said, and started walking.

It followed me. I’d half expected that.

My hand wasn’t too far from the butt of theHG-2, but I didn’t really have any intention of drawing on thelittle buzzer. You can’t outdraw a floater unless it lets you.

I didn’t really have a good reason for beingso hostile to the little machine; I just didn’t like how littlecontrol I had over the situation. It knew who I was; I didn’t knowa thing about it. It could follow me; if I tried to follow it, itcould just sail up out of reach, or probably outrun me on thelevel. And it could shoot me, if it was armed, but I wouldn’t beable to shoot it unless it was ordered to let me, or unless Icaught it totally off-guard.

I blew a floater apart once, more or less byboth those methods, and it felt pretty good at the time, but Ididn’t care to try to do it again.

And besides, I didn’t really have anythingagainst this one.

Yet.

So I let it follow me, and I didn’t sayanything. I just walked back out into the mall and down a fewstorefronts and ducked into a bank.

The human staff was off-duty, but the tellerswere up and running, and a few customers were wandering about. Oneor two glanced up at the floater, but nobody said anything.

I paused and looked about, and reconsidered.Banks are big on security. Not a good choice.

I turned and went back out on the mall, andthis time I found a clothier.

“I’d like a private booth,” I told the entryclerk. “I need to check some measurements.”

It gave me a cheerful little chirp and said,“Certainly, Mis’. We’ve coded Number Four just for you.”

“I’m taking my floater in with me,” I toldit.

“I’ll tell the door,” it said. “Catalog’s allset on the big screen, any time you’re ready.”

Damn thing sounded like it was smirking. Ihate that sort of smart-chip clerk.

I looked up to be sure Ol’ Blue-and-Silverwas still there, which it was, and I beckoned for it to follow me,then I marched across the display floor to the fitting rooms.

The door to #4 had a pink stardust auraaround it, just to make sure I could find it. It itched a bit whenI walked through it; I think my symbiote must have been sensitiveto the static field.

The door waited until the floater was inside,then it slid shut. The big holoscreen was showing a montage ofmodels in fancy gowns, any of which would have looked like a tenton me.

“Privacy,” I told it. “And kill the displayfor a moment.”

I don’t know if it was smarter than the entryclerk, or what, but the room’s software didn’t say a word, justblanked the screen and lit up an aura around the measuring chip.The screen over the door displayed the word PRIVATE in flowing pinkscript.

I picked up the chip for the sake ofverisimilitude, and then asked the floater, “What the hell were youdoing there so early?”

“I could ask you the same question,” it said.“I was told to go there and wait for you when I finished my regularduties for the day. I got done at 16:48. Waiting doesn’t botherme.”

Its tone made it quite clear that it wantedan answer to the question it hadn’t actually asked.

“I was checking the place out,” I said.“Wanted to see what it was like. I didn’t expect anyone to be therewaiting for me.”

“Shall we return there now?” it asked.

“No,” I said.

It thought that over for a second, and thenasked, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like that place,” I told it.“That line of floaters makes me nervous. Who put ‘em all there? Areany of them armed? Look, I wasn’t expecting to talk to a floater,and I certainly wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone anywhere thatpublic; I figured whoever it was would meet me there and we’d gosomewhere else to talk. So I met you, and we came here, and it’sstill a couple of hours before our appointment, but I’ll talk toyou here if you want.”

“You’re being paranoid,” it said. “I likethat.”

“Fine,” I said. “Then talk.”

“I’m not your client, Hsing,” it said. “Idon’t even know what he wants you for. I was told to meet you andlook you over, and if I approved to bring you to him. I’ve met youand looked you over, and I approve.”

“So you’re going to take me to him?”

“If you’ll come, yes.”

“Then let’s go,” I said.

We went, back to the Sakai Building, and upto the tenth floor.

Then I waited in a lounge, watching waves ofgreen and blue chase each other across the furniture, while thefloater went on into the inner sanctum. No holoscreen. No attendantsoftware. No floaters. I sat.

It was maybe ten minutes before the floaterreappeared through a holographic wall.

“Hsing,” it said, “you’ll have to leave yourgun.”

I didn’t say anything for a minute, juststared at it.

“You’re not the only one around here who’sparanoid,” it added helpfully.

“Hell,” I said with a shrug. I pulled out theHG-2 and laid it on a table. I considered turning it on, withorders to refuse handling by anyone but me, but decided that waspushing it. It was just a gun. If it got nervous and blew someone’shand off I could catch some serious grit.

I did say, “It better still be here,untouched, when I get back.”

“It will be,” the floater said.

I wasn’t particularly happy about leaving thegun, but it wasn’t any great disaster to give it up. I still hadplenty of other gadgetry on me.

The big difference-which my mystery man wasprobably well aware of-was that almost everything else I carriedwas defensive, rather than offensive. And the rest of my offensivearsenal, such as it was, was relatively easy to defend against,while stopping an armor-piercing round from the Sony-Remingtoncould be a challenge.