A Cosmic Christmas by Hank Davis

Author:Hank Davis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, Short Stories, Adventure, General
ISBN: 9781451638622
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2012-11-06T05:00:00+00:00

The first client for the month of December arrived just before noon on the 23rd. Sullivan had been reading a Popular Mechanics article about a British Cog named Turing and his controversial attempt to build a mechanical man capable of reasoning, when there had been a delicate knock on the door.

Like all Gravity Spikers—or Heavies as most folks insisted on calling magicals of his type—Sullivan’s Power enabled him to manipulate the forces of gravity. He was just much better at it than everyone else. A quick surge of Power enabled him to see the nearby world as it really was, shades of mass, density, and force, and it told him that there was a single body in the hallway, approximately one hundred and twenty pounds.

Hopeful that it might be business related, he quickly saw to it that both he and the office were presentable before answering. He stubbed out his cigarette and hid the magazine in his desk. Sullivan checked the mirror, fixed his tie, and ran a comb through his hair. He was built like a bull, had the face of an anvil, and wasn’t particularly well-spoken, but that was no excuse to not present well.

The lady in the hall certainly knew how to present well. She was good looking, mid-twenties, brunette, and petite. She was wearing a blue dress, ten minks worth of coat, and shoes that cost more than all of Sullivan’s earthly possessions combined. “I need a private detective,” she stated, having to crane her neck to see since he was over a foot taller than she. “Are you Heavy Jake Sullivan?”

“That’s me.” He didn’t much care for the nickname, but it would do. At least that meant she knew he was an Active and was okay with the fact. It wasn’t the kind of thing you advertised to most respectable clients. The general attitude was that Heavies were good for lifting things and that was about it. “Please come in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan.” Her blue eyes were red from crying. Her manner was resigned and tired.

He closed the door behind her. She was graceful, like a dancer, as she walked in and took a seat. He went to the other side of the desk and settled into his massively reinforced chair. Sullivan weighed far more than he appeared to, a byproduct of his magical experimentation, and he’d gotten tired of breaking chairs.

“So what brings you to this neighborhood?”

“You came highly recommended.” The lady glanced around the room. There was a single light bulb wired into the ceiling and the whole place seemed dingy and small. It was times like this that he wished he could afford a real office instead of this rotten dive. Judging by her get-up, she could hire whoever she felt like, but apparently she was undeterred by the shabbiness of her host or his office. “I need your help.”

“Sure,” he answered. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”

“Emily Fordyce. I’m here about my husband.”

So it was another jilted wife case. The

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