Read No Going Back Online

Authors: Mark L. van Name

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Space Opera, #Adventure, #Fiction

No Going Back (12 page)

BOOK: No Going Back
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He put his hands behind his back. “What exactly do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Omani told me it was time I met you, so here I am.”

“You have no great scheme you want to propose to me? No art you’re creating at night and would like me to see, no story about how your job as a laborer is just a way to feed yourself until your genius is recognized?”

I laughed. “Omani said other men had used her to get to you. Are those some of the things they wanted?”

For the first time, he smiled, though only slightly. “Some of them. Many wanted far more.”

I shook my head. “I like Omani. We eat and talk and listen to music and spend time in the parks. I didn’t know until right after work today that we were dating. That’s it.”

“So what do you picture for the two of you in the future, you the laborer and she the heiress?”

“I’ve never considered the question,” I said. I never assumed I would stay anywhere long, because the sorts of jobs I sought were always temporary. “I’ve never made plans longer than the duration of the job I was doing.”

He studied me for a moment. “What are you afraid of?”

Of being imprisoned again as a test subject
, I thought but could not say.
Of people finding out about the nanomachines in me. Of people around me dying, as Benny and others had.
“Nothing in particular,” I finally said. “I’ve just never cared about the future. I grew up—” I couldn’t explain that I had spent the first sixteen years of my life mentally challenged, unable to advance past the mental age of a typical five-year-old boy, so I groped for the closest explanation to the truth that I could use. “—without any real chance to learn, so right now I’m happy to work as I must and spend the rest of my time reading and learning and thinking.”

He faced Omani. “We all enjoy time off, and we all enjoy those years we get to spend without responsibilities, simply doing as we will. In the end, though, we crave more. You will, too.” He looked back at me. “I’m sure she finds your lifestyle romantic now, but it won’t last. She’ll want more of a partner one day, particularly given that she’s my only child and eventually this estate and most of my holdings will be hers.”

“Daddy!” Omani said. She was clearly struggling to control her temper.

Getting in a fight with him would cost her more than it would cost me, so I stepped closer to him and shrugged. “I have no clue how this whole dating thing works. I’ve never dated anyone. What I do know is that Omani says what she thinks, and she thinks a lot. If she decides she doesn’t want to spend any more time with me, I’m sure she’ll say so. I’d do the same if I felt that way. I don’t see, though, why either of us has to make any of those decisions right now.”

I paused. His attitude angered me, but I also found it sad, bordering on pathetic. “I’ve never had any children, of course,” I said, “but I had a younger sister I used to try to take care of.” I paused again. Though younger and smaller than I, Jennie was both vastly smarter and also a healer, so she’d spent more time taking care of me than I had of her. I always wanted, though, to protect her, and it still hurt me that I’d been unable to stop the men from Pinkelponker’s government who took her away so she could heal only the people they considered important. “I know that if I ever got to see her again—I don’t know where she is right now—I’d never talk to her the way you’re speaking to Omani. I don’t know why you feel you have to be mean, but you don’t. I can tell you just from the way she talks about you that like everybody else, she’s scared of you, but unlike the other people I see working for you, she’s your daughter, and she loves you.” My face burned, partly from anger at him, partly from embarrassment at talking so much about things I understood so little.

He stared at me for several seconds, his face under tight control.

I couldn’t read his expression at all, other than to know that he was keeping it neutral. I had the sense that he had learned long ago to make sure that other people couldn’t make him show his feelings when he didn’t want them to.

Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Omani. I worry about you, and I want to protect you. I also owe you an apology, Mr. Moore. As I said, most men who have come before you have wanted something from me. Most people do. It’s... unusual and a bit refreshing to meet someone who does not.” He took a deep breath. “At the risk of sounding again too much like either an overprotective father or an old man, I have to tell you that one day you will want more from life than what you’re doing now, that if you’re any sort of man at all you’ll want to do things you believe in, try to improve a world, maybe many worlds, take care of the people you love—all of those things.”

Each of those sounded like a high-risk proposition to me, ways to draw attention to myself and end up getting locked again in some lab somewhere, but I had to admit that the more I learned, the older I grew, the more I wanted to do something more significant with myself than simply move from one low-end job to the next.

“I expect you’re right, sir,” I said. “I’ve begun to have some of those yearnings.”

He nodded. “So does your lack of planning extend to today?”

I tilted my head at him in question. “Sir?”

He smiled. “Do you have any specific plans for what you’ll be doing this evening?”

I laughed. “Sometimes we do, but not today. If I want something in particular, I say so, but usually I don’t, so I ask her. Omani never lacks for ideas.”

“I’m right here, you know,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I meant that as a compliment.”

She took my arm. “We’re going to the market, Daddy, to buy some food for a picnic. Then we’ll find a place to eat and talk, maybe find some music to listen to later. That’s about as wild as we usually get.”

“Well,” he said, “you two have a good time.”

He extended his arms, and she came forward and hugged him. When she finished, she stepped back, and he and I shook hands again.

“It was... interesting to meet you, sir,” I said.

He laughed again. “Relentlessly more honest than the others,” he said. “That won’t always work for you, but it’s fine right now. It was interesting to meet you, too.”

Omani tugged on my arm and led me away.

As we were going, I glanced back to see him staring at us. I nodded and waved goodbye.

He turned to the displays to his right.

Omani said nothing as we walked through the huge open space, so I also stayed quiet.

When we’d left the room and the elevator doors had closed behind us, Omani turned to face me. “You were amazing, Jon,” she said.

She put her hand on my cheek, closed her eyes, and kissed me.

 

24 days from the end

 

York City

Planet Haven

CHAPTER 17

Jon Moore

A
s I walked, I considered the problem of fooling Omani. The challenge I faced was not so much initially appearing old as sustaining that illusion from up close, from a conversational distance, from closer still if she wanted to hug me. At the same time, I wanted to be able to get away quickly should something go wrong.

I was rarely around the truly old, but the auction from which I’d saved those kids had shown me quite a few old men. Many of them had been rail thin, but some were heavy. I couldn’t appear particularly thinner, so I’d have to go heavier to show some age. Doing that had the added benefit of letting me hide body armor. I could handle being shot, but the healing time would slow me, so if I could save that time, I’d be ahead of the game should anything go wrong.

Body armor went on my shopping list.

Quite a few of those old men had also used exoskeletons under their clothing. The right exoskeleton could be useful both for speed and to keep me going if I was hurt.

One of those went on the list.

I’d need a good suit tailored decently but not superbly to cover those things. I wanted to appear that I was doing well enough to still be alive, but not so well that I had any chance of moving among the sorts of extraordinarily wealthy people Pimlani knew.

All of that would help, but none of it addressed the central problem of making my face, neck, and hands appear old. All I’d ever been able to get my nanomachines to do was to disassemble things, so unfortunately they’d be of no use with this problem.

I’d seen stage actors fake aging well, though, so it was possible, though they generally didn’t have to pass close inspection, and I did. Still, I clearly needed to find a business that worked with actors—or perhaps, I realized, with people who wanted costumes. Parties might create a demand for that sort of thing. Criminals might, too.

Whether any of what I was seeking would be available in this market was another question entirely. Certainly, the market as it was when I’d lived here would have offered none of it, but this one sprawled over four times as much ground as the one I’d known.

As I drew closer, shops of all sorts took over the buildings. People lived above some of the shops, but this was clearly an area where tourists and other shoppers came to spend money. As I reached the coordinates where the market should be, I saw that exactly where the market began and where the permanent shops ended was unclear. Some of what initially appeared to be stalls were, on closer inspection, small portable buildings locked in place by metal spikes in the ground, installations about as permanent as many poorly constructed buildings. Stores that bordered the market extended their reach past their boundaries with awnings that covered the sidewalks and half a meter of the street in front of them. Under the awnings stood merchandise displays, barkers both human and holo, and people, people everywhere.

I couldn’t afford the time to visit every store and every market stall here. If Kang was indeed paying people to search for me, the sooner Lobo and I left for another planet far away, the better. Plus, if Omani truly was dying, each day counted. On the other hand, asking for help left a trail of queries with all the local marketing software, something I hated.

Still, I had no real alternative.

I started looking for an interactive guide. A place like this would have them scattered all around, but I wanted one I could use privately; no point in alerting people to what I was doing. I walked back a bit, away from the market, and looked for a post or a pedestal that could help me. I spotted two on the first street, but they were in use by multiple people at once, the holo shopping assistant answering questions in rapid alternation from each of the questioners, maps flashing into view as the holo spoke.

I walked over a couple of streets from the main road. I finally spotted a pedestal not in use. No one stood near it or seemed to be approaching it, so the odds were good that I could ask my questions without being disturbed. Down the block a bit, five tables sat on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. The tables were full, four with two people each, and one with four crowded around the small surface. The people facing this way appeared to be focused on their tablemates and their food, and not on anything else.

This was as good an opportunity as I was likely to get.

I walked to the pedestal and stood in front of it.

A meter-high woman with golden skin, short hair, and an unreasonably white smiled burst into view above the pedestal. “How may I help you, sir?”

If I went with a cover story, at least the trail I left might not gain as much notice as if I asked directly. “I’m at a bit of a loss, I’m afraid,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what I need.”

You could almost see the software spot the upsell possibilities and shift into another gear. The holo grew slightly younger and bustier. I must have reacted positively, because its shirt pulled back to reveal a little cleavage. I focused on its eyes so it would stop adapting to please me. Unfortunately, that meant trying to stare into the near space and not through it to the building across the street, but I did the best I could. “Can you tell me, sir, the sorts of things you’re looking for, or perhaps what your goals are.”

“I need to attend a family reunion,” I said, “but an odd one: It’s a costume party.”

“Excellent, sir. Is it by chance in the city party registries? If you give me your name, I can check for you.”

I held up my hands. “Thank you, but no. I’m afraid our family is rather private and would prefer to stay that way.”

“I should say so, sir,” the holo said. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t find a match for you in any of the databases I can access. You have excellent software.”

And now because it had failed to identify me, it figured I was either a tourist, rich, or somehow very connected; the last two possibilities only increased my upsell potential.

“What type of costumes are you considering?” the holo said. “Here in Haven I am certain you can find multiple stores with anything you might imagine.”

“It’s a theme party,” I said, “a go-as-your-ancestor sort of affair.” I had no idea if such things existed, but it seemed reasonable that a very old family that was very full of itself might well hold one. “I want to go as my old grandfather, as he appeared not long before he died. As a young man, he looked a great deal like me.”

“So older clothing might be in order,” she said, “as well as something to age you.”

“I’d prefer to stay with modern fashion,” I said, “but something someone over one-fifty would wear.”

“That will be the least of our challenges. I believe I can also show you some options for make-up. I could refine my search if you were willing to give me a sense of your budget. As I’m sure you know, Haven’s stores and markets support a broad range of clientele and price ranges.”

I needed the disguise to work; I couldn’t afford the time to shop for bargains. Knowing full well that I was about to increase the likelihood of stores bothering me as I shopped, I said, “Cost is not an issue for me. Finding what I want is all that matters.”

The holo nodded in approval. I noticed she now had more cleavage and a sparkling necklace directing my attention to her décolletage. “Very good, sir. I will point you to only the very best of our stores—not, of course, that York has any bad merchants. It is simply a case that some serve different types of buyers.” She winked, the movement of the holo eye unsettling. “As I’m sure you understand. Should I now generate a list for you?”

BOOK: No Going Back
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