Mindscan by Robert J. Sawyer

Author:Robert J. Sawyer [Sawyer, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: sf
Published: 2011-04-07T03:59:28+00:00

22

Entering High Eden’s American-style restaurant, I spotted Malcolm Draper sitting alone, reading something on a datapad. I did that lunar walk/hop thing over to where he was. “Hey, Malcolm.”

He looked up. “Jake! Have a seat.”

I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. “Whatcha reading?”

He held up the datapad so I could see its display. “ DinoWorld.” He shrugged a bit.

“My son really liked it, but I never gave it a try. I must say, it’s charming.”

I shook my head. “Isn’t it always the way? Nothing boosts an author’s sales like dying.”

He pressed the datapad’s OFF button. “Except, of course, that Karen Bessarian isn’t really dead,” he said. “The Mindscan Karen will get the royalty.”

I snorted. “Like she deserves it.”

Malcolm had a glass of white wine already. He took a sip. “She does deserve it. You know that.”

I snorted again, and Malcolm shrugged amiably. He must have seen a server behind me, because he made a beckoning motion with his hand, his Tafford ring glinting in the light.

And, indeed, a moment later a waitress did appear: white, maybe twenty-five, curly hair, curvy everything else.

” ‘Evening, gentlemen,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

“A Caesar salad to start,” said Malcolm. “No croutons, please. Then a filet mignon wrapped in bacon, medium rare. Garlic mashed potatoes. Peas, carrots. Can do?”

“Of course, Mr. Draper. Whatever you wish. And what about you, Mr. Sullivan?”

I looked at her and blinked. How did she know my name? I mean, sure, she’d served me once or twice before, but…

It had been a long day, and I was getting a headache again — maybe it was because of all this dry air. Anyway, I didn’t want to peer at a menu, so I just said, “I’ll have the same thing, but bring me asparagus spears instead of peas and carrots, and I do want croutons.”

“Also medium rare for the filet?”

“Nah, a little less. Just past rare. And — Alberta beef.”

“Absolutely. To drink?”

I decided to be a pain. “Bring me an Old Sully’s Premium Dark.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll be—”

“You have that?” I said. “You have Old Sully’s?”

“Of course, sir. We stocked it just for you. We get full dossiers on everyone who is moving here.”

I nodded, and she went away.

“See?” said Malcolm, as if some point needed to be made. “This is a great place.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well.” I looked around the room. I’d eaten here several times, but I’d never really examined the place. The decor, of course, was magnificent: dark paneling, like the best steakhouses — probably that whipped regolith stuff, though — white tablecloths, Tiffany-style lamps, the whole nine yards. “You really like it here?” I asked Malcolm.

“What’s not to like?”

“The lack of freedom. And…”

“What?”

I rubbed the top of my head. “Nothing. Go back to your book.”

He frowned. “You’re not yourself today, Jake.”

It was an innocent comment — unless he was in on it, too. I found myself speaking harshly. “I’m not myself every day,” I snapped. “That — that thing down on Earth is me.

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