Diane Duane by Omnitopia Dawn (v5)

Author:Omnitopia Dawn (v5)
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

Dev watched her go, then turned back to make his way again toward his local desk. Around him, this level’s soft buzz was just a little louder than usual. It would be much louder this time tomorrow, Dev was sure. And the day after tomorrow. But right now, the future thirty-six hours hence seemed like an eternity away. Got plenty of trouble to deal with first . . .

At the desk he paused just for a moment to flip the Time magazine folder cover open and looked once more at the dummy cover. It was a restatement of the cover he’d done for Rolling Stone a couple of years back, in late ’13—which itself could be considered a comment. That cover had been a full-length portrait of a tall, lean, sandy-haired, open-collared, jeans-wearing kind of guy leaning against a white support that faded into a white background: a cover more about the person than the supposed phenomenon. The Dev in that picture looked like a guy you could imagine mowing his own lawn, or maybe even yours. The pose in the picture on this Time dummy cover was similar, but it was a head-to-waist shot, the clothes a little more formal—a business shirt with the collar unbuttoned rather than the polo shirt of the older photo shoot. The expression was more intense—the formerly-trademark glasses were missing, dumped since Dev had finally let Mirabel talk him into the laser surgery (and since Dev had finished scrutinizing to his own satisfaction the results of the long-term effects in the medical journals). The Omnitopia logo loomed large in the background, superimposed over a faded image of the Omnitopia City campus. The message seemed to be: here’s a guy who’s become a force to be reckoned with. Or it could also be: here’s a guy who’s sold out to the big buck and is in the process of forgetting his roots. Now, as Dev looked at the new Time dummy, he grimaced to himself, remembering how slickly the high-powered photographer they’d brought in for the shoot—admittedly one of the great names—had maneuvered him out of all the available polos and into the shirt. And I let him. Well, we still have approval on this cover. I can always pitch some kind of fit or find some kind of fault, and insist that I want another shoot. But then they’ll just find some kind of way to imply that I’m a publicity-crazed, hypercontrolling prima donna. . . .

Dev flipped the folder shut and looked around. As he did he saw tall gangly Frank come out of his own nearby satellite office and head toward him. Dev went to meet him. “Did Tau find you just now?”

“He sure did. Looks like the big trouble’s starting.”

“So I gather. He wants us to deal with our substructure business before we go help the boys stomp on the naughtiness in progress.”

“A little happy-violence time, huh, Boss?”

“I’d be happier if we didn’t need the violence,” Dev said, “but I need

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