Dydeetown World by F. Paul Wilson

Author:F. Paul Wilson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, American, General, Short Stories, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671698287
Publisher: Baen
Published: 1989-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

-9-

"My stop's next," I said, jostling him awake. Got to my feet as he yawned and stretched.

"Tired," he said. "Sleep y'place, san?"

Shook my head. "No chance."

He looked surprised. "Please? Tired. Nev spen night in real compartment."

"Haven't missed much. Once you're asleep it's all the same. Besides, I've got work to do. Can't have an urch hanging around."

"I can help," he said in his best Realpeople talk.

Could see he was getting too attached, imprinted on me like some baby duck. Had to introduce a little distance here.

"No, you can't. Check with my office in a couple of days. May have something for you then."

The tube stopped and I got out. Walking away, I felt his hurt gaze on my back like a weight until the tube shot him further downtown. Could have used some company but I had to be alone tonight. No witnesses.

Learning that the "comet" we had been seeking was part of the NeuroNex logo was pushing me toward a decision. A big one. One I wasn't sure I was ready for yet.

Years ago, NeuroNex had wired me for my button. Now NeuroNex — or at least this particular branch office — was linked to the snatches and deaths of a couple of urchins. And I'd managed to get myself tractored into finding out the who, the why, and the wherefore.

Which meant I had to find a way of presenting myself to NeuroNex and asking lots of questions without raising too much suspicion. There was a foolproof way of for me to do that:

Get myself unbuttoned.

Not a pretty prospect. Been preparing myself to have it done, been planning to have it done...someday. But not so soon. Next year maybe. Next quarter maybe. Sure as hell not tomorrow.

Not tomorrow!

But what better way to get next to NeuroNex? Tried desperately to think of one and came up blank.

Dropped into my new formchair — just like Elmero's — and buttoned it to adjust to my posture. Sat there looking down the hall through my door. Watched for a while but nothing was moving out there so I rode the chair over to the button drawer and opened it. Sat staring at those little gold disks. A lot of money invested in those things over the years. Some where played out but I kept them anyway. Nostalgia, maybe. The Good Old Days — when a good simple single-input orgasm was quite enough for a long while. But then I graduated to doubles, then triples. My latest was a five-couple orgy multi-channeled into a slow build that crescendoed through a series of minor eruptions into a major simultaneous explosion.

Picked it out of the pile and backed the chair into the middle of the compartment, turning so my back was to Lynnie's holo. As the chair reclined supineward, I hesitated.

Shouldn't do this, I told myself. You've been weaning yourself down all year now. Three weeks now without buttoning up once. A record. As good as clean. Why set yourself back now? The day after tomorrow will be a lot easier if you put that damn thing back in the drawer right now and go to sleep.

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