Mentor Test by Foner E.M

Author:Foner, E.M. [Foner, E.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

We arrived at the complex of buildings that had sprung up around the replica Eiffel Tower at the spaceport, and the self-driving rental proved its programming by successfully dodging a Lamborghini that was doing over a hundred miles an hour in the parking lot. eBeth was at the wheel, and it was worth the scare to see the young Hanker in the passenger seat braced for collision.

“Did you see his face?” Pffift chortled. “He was probably imagining how his insurance bill would jump if she cracked it up.”

“I don’t know if auto insurance covers accidents on private property, especially after you convinced the government to grant your spaceport extra-territorial status,” I said. “You should probably look into it if you’re paying premiums.”

“The cars need it anyway to register for traveling on public roads, and buildings are all self-insured.”

“Meaning that if they burn down, you’ll think about whether or not they’re worth replacing.”

“Something like that,” Pffift said agreeably as our car came to a stop in a sheltered area of visitor parking. “Are you impressed by the photovoltaics on the roof? We strive to be a green business.”

“A little-green-men business,” I muttered under my breath as I got out of the car and shouldered the larger of the two packs that Paul had helped the Hanker smuggle from Reservation. “What’s in this thing, anyway? It weighs as much as a dead body.”

As soon as I said it, I began to imagine the worst, but Pffift shook his head as if he could read my mind and was disappointed in my lack of trust.

“Some samples I picked up on Reservation,” he said. “You know that they’ve built a bit of a reputation for bespoke sandals.”

“I hadn’t, actually,” I admitted, and confirmed with a quick millimeter-wave scan that the pack was full of leather sandals. “I suppose it makes sense because they all wear them, and sandals can be easily adapted to the odd-shaped feet of some League members.”

“Who has odd-shaped feet?” Pffift demanded. He hoisted the lighter pack and slammed the trunk lid. “Sometimes I think you’re becoming Humanist.”

“Maybe it’s time we retake the human test and see if I can beat you,” I said.

“I didn’t mean it in a positive way.” He stepped behind me as the Lamborghini cut us off while coming to a rapid halt. eBeth hopped out with a huge smile on her face.

“I’m not buying you one,” I told her.

“There aren’t any roads on Reservation where I could drive it anyway,” eBeth said. She turned to Pffift’s grandson, who was still gripping the dashboard. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Charles?” Pffift inquired blandly. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days?”

“Nobody on Earth can pronounce my real name,” Charles said in a sulky voice. “They say it has too many F’s in it.”

“You have to expect that from primitive species. Are you going to give us the grand tour, or would you rather I just go poking around and—”

Pffift’s grandson was out of the car so fast that he would have been a blur to a human.

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