CHAPTER ONE

“You’re too easy to kill. That’s why you are still alive.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

I know, my dear Buddy-bod. To state the obvious is to state the obvious.

“Seneferu is in the outer office. He believes you are a pure biologic. He has no fear of you. What if he is an assassin?”

I glanced out the window beside my desk. From my office just below the crest of Grouse Mountain I could see the dull, leaden sea pressed against the base of the slope. Always bugged me that ignorant people claim there used to be a city down there. Obviously not. Nothing but water.

Don’t ask me. Ask Myriad.

Silence. More musings.

“Her mate says his Mate is sweeping. Detects everything. Knows how powerful she is.”

I snorted, almost a laugh. Then he knows he can’t flee past her once he’s slain me. No chance. Dead man. Any indication he wants to be a martyr?

“None. A cautious man craves sanity.”

I think we can handle him… unless… does he know I’m fake?

“No. He thinks you’re legit.”

Good. It’s more fun conning someone when they don’t realize they’re being conned.

A tentative knock on the door. It swung open. My secretary Myriad leaned into the room, her golden eyes gleaming bright above her golden breasts. Evidently the colour of the hour was gold. She’d been quite scarlet when I first saw her this morning. I had to admit, her Minoan style dress was most fetching. Showed off her chameleon-algae to best advantage. Seneferu must be impressed.

“Actually, I doubt it. He’s… different.”

“What is it?” I inquired, with a decisive irritation in my voice. Have to set the tone after all. I knew the client was listening.

“A Mr. Wolfgang Seneferu to see you. He’s on schedule.”

My schedule. “Direct him to enter.”

Myriad withdrew, to be replaced by the waddling Seneferu, a man hard to respect on first sight. For one thing, he sidled through the doorway as if afraid he wouldn’t fit. Yet he was young and slender, devoid of excess fat. I pointed to the seat before my desk. Seneferu obediently sat, or rather, settled down, patting nonexistent folds of flesh beneath his absurdly large cotton tunic. It hung on his frame like a collapsed tent. Expensive stuff, cotton.

“His implant cost a billion.”

Then his country doesn’t value him. Neither should I.

“The techgrid values YOU. I cost an icy trillion.”

You only say that because you love me.

“Rudwulf, sir, pardon me while I catch my breath,” Seneferu pleaded. “My excessive bulk handicaps me. Makes life difficult.”

Has he always been like this?

“Eunuchs are generally obese.”

This one isn’t.

“Why in Shamash don’t you have a sane office?” Seneferu asked, pretending to be annoyed. “My Mate detects no technologic whatever.” He glanced at the bookshelves lining the walls. “Is that genuine wood?”

“Vat grown, not extruded. I like natural things. Nothing but the best biologic for me.”

“My Mate tells me you are Mateless. How is that even possible?”

“I abhor the unnatural. The very idea of an implant upsets my gonads. Besides, I’m very rich. The law doesn’t apply to me.”

“But you’re all by yourself inside your skull. Who do you talk to when you’re alone?”

“No one. No one at all.”

Seneferu sat back with an exasperated expression on his face. “You are abnormal beyond all measure.”

“Thank you.”

“He really does believe you are odd. Maybe even insane.”

Is he mentally discomforted? His concern is only useful if I disconcert him.

“No. He has too much contempt for you to be afraid. But he is curious, very curious, and eager to hear what you have to say.”

Then I’ll keep quiet on the important stuff. “My dear Wolfgang, I perceive you love nature as much as I do.”

A brief but brilliant flash of shock distorted Seneferu’s composure. “Really? How disgusting. Whatever do you mean?”

“I may lack a Mate, but even my internal solitude can see you are perspiring enough to drown the Nile. I have rubbing alcohol in my desk if you need it.”

Seneferu laughed lightly, a tinkling sound, almost charming. “Shows how much you know. I sweat on demand. Dark stains a useful distraction in debate. I’ll switch off now.”

Leaning forward, I sniffed loudly. “I have a very good sense of smell. Why is your sweat odourless?”

More laughter. “I’m good at contact tactics. I’m never rude.”

“He thinks he is running laps around you. Getting quite smug.”

Good. I like it when enemies underestimate me.

“How do you know he is your enemy?”

Isn’t everybody?

Seneferu leaned back, his black eyes suddenly intense. It would be intimidating, except it wasn’t. Not to me.

“If I may say so,” Seneferu stated, knowing full well he was being presumptuous, “your lack of a Mate is a preposterous handicap. It renders you artificially autistic compared to us technologic augments. No context. No environment. No clues.”

“Told you he’s getting smug, damn near giddy with complacency.”

It was my turn to smile. “I find my absence of awareness refreshing and invigorating. Focusing on the superficial requires surprisingly little effort. Consequently, I find reality rather pleasant.”

“But implants shift the burden, freeing everyone to be equally unaware. We’re all happy.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I replied. “So much suffering in the world.”

Expression of distaste. “You’re talking about the poor? They enjoy suffering. Everyone knows that.”

“The hunted enjoy the hunt? Interesting idea. I must mention that to my PR hacks.”

Seneferu actually had the gall to point at me. “But you… your reality offends me. No implant. Like a man deliberately cutting his own balls off. Not natural. Against the will of the Gods.”

“He’s getting flustered. His mate adjusting hormones to calm him.”

Let’s hope it sedates him insensible.

“That would be amusing.”

I adopt a serious tone. “Don’t let me keep you, Wolfgang, if you find my presence uncomfortable. But if you find you can tolerate me, stay, and let’s get down to business.”

Regaining his equilibrium, Seneferu pressed his fingers together beneath his chin in a futile effort to appear competent and confident. I had the impression he thought he had multiple chins.

“I expect you’ve read the contract?” he asked.

“Of course not. I refuse to focus my eyes on technologic displays if I can avoid it. I’ve been told what the contract says. But I suppose I should read it nonetheless.”

By the way, is his copy correct?

“His Mate is under the impression it is identical to what was negotiated.”

That’ll do.

Seneferu grunted as he reached within his tunic to pull out a scroll that he’d tucked under his belt. “Please excuse the fact I kept it pressed between folds of my belly fat. Gross, I know, but as secure as a safe.”

“The only gross thing about this idiot is his obsession. He weighs less than you do.”

Why is he like this?

“Something to do with his father, maybe. Said to be quite the authority figure.”

The whitish-yellow scroll, only six inches long, and a mere inch in diameter were it uncompressed, lay on the desk like something dead.

“Cost a fortune, stupid thing,” Seneferu muttered. “First one manufactured in centuries.”

I felt my lips curling. “Manufactured?”

“Handmade. Handmade of course!”

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