The Incrementalists (Steven Brust) by Steven Brust

Author:Steven Brust
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2013-09-23T22:00:00+00:00

Phil

The smell of coffee and the touch of her hand woke me up, which is a far, far better way to wake up than many others. After what seemed a long time, I said, “If I sit up and drink coffee, will you still be able to do that?”

“It will challenge me,” she said, “to find something else.”

I sat up, took the coffee, drank some, and set it down. I looked at her. “Thank you. How are you feeling?”

“The headache’s gone. You saved my life.”

“We all did. Jimmy found the antidote, Ray procured and administered it. Welcome to the family. We work together and hardly ever try to kill each other. I’m sorry that happened.”

She put a hand on my leg over the blanket; it woke me up faster than coffee. “You told me before that it was rarely dangerous. I guess I’m just lucky.”

“I should have added that it’s regularly dangerous to your peace of mind. But peace of mind, as Oskar would say, is a bourgeois luxury.”

She gave a gentle laugh. It sent shivers through me. “He would say that.”

“Do you remember who Celeste is?”

“No. Should I?”

“In some sense.” I drank more coffee. Saving someone’s life is a wonderful feeling. Try it. You feel like, if you don’t mind a TV reference, a big damn hero. I’ve done it before. I’ve also been saved. The latter is not always such a good feeling. You’re glad to be alive, and the gratitude you feel isn’t feigned, but it can make things weird with your rescuer. Especially if your rescuer is someone you very badly want. Your head plays games, and your rescuer’s head plays games, because you might feel obliged, and the rescuer might be afraid that you feel obliged. Lust and obligation have a tendency to get in each other’s way and mess up both. In the worst case, it turns into a battle of obligations. More than a few marriages have broken on those rocks.

So I enjoyed her touch, and enjoyed the coffee, and only clenched my jaw metaphorically, and shifted my position very slightly so what I was feeling wasn’t quite so obvious. From time to time her hand would move when she had to type something, but then she’d bring it back to my leg. I studied her face. What I’d first thought was American Indian could also be a touch of South Pacific Islander. Or, God knows in this country, anything else. She was fully concentrating on what she was doing, and her total focus reminded me of Ray.

Given an endless supply of coffee, I could have just stayed there indefinitely, even enjoying unfulfilled lust. But as I was staring at the empty cup and weighing my options, there was a soft tap on the door.

“Come in,” I said, and there was Jimmy.

“Matsu is here. Take your time, we’re filling him in.”

He shut the door.

Ren was looking at me. “I don’t remember much about Matsu,” she said. “He’s a fighter, isn’t he?”

I nodded.

“Are you expecting a fight?”

“No.

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