Multiples: The Collected Stories of Robert Silverberg, Volume Six by Silverberg Robert

Author:Silverberg, Robert [Silverberg, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, short stories, Amazon Purchases, Anthologies
ISBN: 9781596066281
Amazon: B00DGF1118
Goodreads: 18922097
Publisher: Subterranean Press
Published: 2011-09-30T07:00:00+00:00

The new dinkos were being herded into the fumigation chamber now. They were annoyed about that—they always were—but the guards kept them moving right along through the puffy bursts of pink and green and yellow sprays that came from the ceiling nozzles. Nobody got out of customs quarantine without passing through that chamber. El Supremo was paranoid about the entry of exotic microorganisms into Valparaiso’s closed-cycle ecology. El Supremo was paranoid about a lot of things. You didn’t get to be sole and absolute ruler of your own little satellite world, and stay that way for 37 years, without a heavy component of paranoia in your makeup.

Juanito leaned up against the great curving glass wall of the customs tank and peered through the mists of sterilizer fog. The rest of the couriers were starting to come in now. Juanito watched them singling out potential clients. Most of the dinkos were signing up as soon as the deal was explained, but as always a few were shaking off help and setting out by themselves. Cheapskates, Juanito thought. Assholes and wimps, Juanito thought. But they’d find out. It wasn’t possible to get started on Valparaiso without a courier, no matter how sharp you thought you were. Valparaiso was a free enterprise zone, after all. If you knew the rules, you were pretty much safe from all harm here forever. If not, not.

Time to make the approach, Juanito figured.

It was easy enough finding the blind man. He was much taller than the other dinkos, a big burly man some thirty-odd years old, heavy bones, powerful muscles. In the bright glaring light his blank forehead gleamed like a reflecting beacon. The low gravity didn’t seem to trouble him much, nor his blindness. His movements along the customs track were easy, confident, almost graceful.

Juanito sauntered over and said, “I’ll be your courier, sir. Juanito Holt.” He barely came up to the blind man’s elbow.

“Courier?”

“New arrival assistance service. Facilitate your entry arrangements. Customs clearance, currency exchange, hotel accomodations, permanent settlement papers if that’s what you intend. Also special services by arrangement.”

Juanito stared up expectantly at the blank face. The eyeless man looked back at him in a blunt straight-on way, what would have been strong eye contact if the dinko had had eyes. That was eerie. What was even eerier was the sense Juanito had that the eyeless man was seeing him clearly. For just a moment he wondered who was going to be controlling whom in this deal.

“What kind of special services?”

“Anything else you need,” Juanito said.

“Anything?”

“Anything. This is Valparaiso, sir.”

“Mmm. What’s your fee?”

“Two thousand callaghanos a week for the basic. Specials are extra, according.”

“How much is that in Capbloc dollars, your basic?”

Juanito told him.

“That’s not so bad,” the blind man said.

“Two weeks minimum, payable in advance.”

“Mmm,” said the blind man again. Again that intense eyeless gaze, seeing right through him. “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

“Seventeen,” Juanito blurted, caught off guard.

“And you’re good, are you?”

“I’m the best. I was born here. I know everybody.

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