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each palm with his fingers and thumbs. The spheres, slightly smaller than billiard balls, chimed quietly as they were rotated. I had tried the Baoding once, but the tendons in my wrist started to hurt after about twenty seconds. Seemed a great way to get carpal tunnel syndrome if you ask ed me, but Mito here could rotate the spheres for hours on end.
    He dressed in a simple gray robe. He was completely bald, and clean-shaven. Hell, even his eyebrows were shaved. He was about a hundred years old, but you couldn't tell it by looking at him. He'd bought enough rejuvenation procedures to make his face as smooth and white as a baby's bottom.
    Most locals, when they first met him, thought he was some kind of tripped-out addict. What they didn't realize was that he was one of those who had an aReal implanted directly in his brain.
    When his eyes focused on mine, that distant look went away completely, and his features hardened. His gaze dropped to my empty holster, and the spheres in both hands stopped rotating. His knuckles turned white—he must have been squeezing the spheres damn hard.
    "You lost your gun," he said in English.
    "Yeah. About that. I wanted to ask you if I could have another one. You know, as a loan against future—"
    "No."
    "I got attacked from behind. Wasn't even on duty. No clients were harmed. The robber took everything I had. Took my gun, swiped my bank accounts. You keep up on the news right? The embedded Ids were compromised again. Guess I should have stayed home today. Anyway, Mito, you have to get me a gun. I—"
    "No gun for you."
    This wasn't going as planned. "Mito, listen—"
    "No."
    I glanced over my shoulder. The two armed escorts had remained, and were now edging closer to me from the entrance. "Look. It won't happen again. I—"
    "You are correct. It will not happen again."
    I frowned. I didn't like the sound of that. "Mito, what—"
    "Clients do not like you," Mito said.
    "What do you mean, clients don't like me? I've always kept them safe, brought them to their destinations on time. Never had a client robbed. And never had a client who didn't tip me. So I'm pretty sure you're wrong on that account."
    Mito grinned, bearing his teeth. " I do not like you."
    "Okay. I get you. No gun. I'll scrounge one on my own, somehow. But if you wouldn't mind, I could use a small advance. As I said, I was robbed. Some guy—"
    "No advance."
    I regarded him in disbelief. "You own me this much, Mito. How much money have I made for you?"
    "A man is only as good as his gun," Mito said. "How he treats that gun, the care, the attention, shows me how he will live his life. If a man cannot protect his own gun, how can he be expected to protect his client? I have a rule: Lose your gun, and you're done."
    Nice of him to tell me about this rule now, of all times.
    Mito set the Baoding spheres down. "As of this moment, your services are terminated."
    "Wait a second. You can't—"
    He smiled, baring his teeth. "Get out of here, little white bread roll. Before I terminate more than just your services."
    The armed escorts showed me to the door, none too gently.
    * * *
    I met Alejandro at the local dive that night. Holographic women danced on most of the tables. If you liked what you saw, for a smal l fee you could meet the living-and-breathing version in a back room. The more upscale bars had the all-too-perfect Skin Musicians—also known as Pleasurers—available in the back. Don't think this place could afford the robots though.
    "Wish I'd stayed home today," I said. "CryptoG. 'Your Data Security Is Our First Priority.' Right. Well, maybe if you didn't accept billions of government digicoins to bake backdoors into your software, you might actually live up to your slogan. The only people who benefit from those backdoors are the hackers. And the government, of course."
    "Mito," Alejandro said, shaking his head. " Caramba . I never thought he would fire you." He finished applying the healing ointment to my scalp. Claimed it