Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men Read Free Page B

old-fashioned.
    He bolted the elevator before the doors were fully open and was around the corner before old Mr. Johnson was out of the car. He took the turn, and it was a race down the corridor. He lost, but he did reach the door to the apartment he shared with his mother before Mr. J made the corner. He popped his card and slapped the plate, tapping toe beating a nervous rhythm while he chanted, "Come on, come on, come on." The door finally recognized him and he bounced through just as Mr. J turned into the corridor.
    Safe.
    Of course, John. No threat.
    So what? Speed and quickness. Dash and style. Ever ready, never lost
    Pointless platitudes.
    He shrugged.
    When he stepped out of the foyer, the first thing he noticed, as always, was the vid wall. Happy Lifestyles was running in time shift. Perish any thought of Mom missing that mainline straightline. How would she know how to decorate the apt? Marianne Reddy wouldn't be happy unless her place was the way it should be. Nothing else would satisfy.
    His mom was planted on the couch, taking in the latest and most proper corporate style. She had a half-dozen sub-screens running through catalogs, looking for matches to the furnishings shown on the main screen. A seventh subscreen was running an interior design program on which their apartment plan hung, halfway through a metamorphosis into something like the one in the main screen, and she was absorbed inputting commands into the remote on her lap.
    He popped into the kitchen and dug out some Cheez Snax™. On his way to the perscomp, he asked, "Any mail?"
    "Yes, dear." She waved hello, but continued to give her attention to her program. "The confirm on your scholarship came today. Isn't that nice?"
    "Wonderful."
    "I was getting worried."
    "No need to frown down. You know the corp's good for it." Mitsutomo's paternalistic compensation programs covered the education of corporate dependents. No problem. "I meant was there any mail for me?"
    "In the file, Johnny."
    It might be. It might be. There'd been barely enough time for his application to get through all the hoops it would have to go through. Barely. Slipping into the seat in front of the console, John tapped in his code. He shunted to the mail box and popped up the "in" box. There was only one entry. The com code burned a deadly disappointing green, and the ID code told him it was a notice from Dr. Block, his least favorite person in the world.
    Shit.
    His mother looked up, and he knew he'd said that aloud.
    "Now, Johnny, it's just a checkup."
    Block was a psychiatrist, not a physician. John was tired of the blockhead's probes. The bastard was always trying to trip John up, trying to get him to admit that he was still talking to Faye. Years of counseling had cured him, though, cured him of letting on to Block that Faye was real. Everything went so much smoother when he had Block believing that he believed that Faye was just another invisible childhood friend, the same as other kids had. Block liked to believe Faye was a psychological crutch, a manifestation of a troubled reaction to the death of John's father; such an answer made the blockhead happy, and John liked it better when Block was happy. The bastard left him alone then. "I don't need to see Dr. Block."
    "Dr. Bloch is only interested in seeing that you're doing well."
    Seeing that the blockhead's record stayed clean, more like. Unresolved cases didn't look good when you were up for promotion. But bringing that up would only unsettle Mom. She took Block's pronouncements for truth, 'scuse me, Truth. He was a psychiatrist, after all. "Block's only interested in drawing his checks."
    "Now, Johnny."
    "It's okay, Mom. I'll go."
    Immediately, she looked relieved. She'd never believed in Faye, and was always nice to him after the blockhead's reports that said John's progression was satisfactory. If only she knew the truth. She was all corporate conformity, and the whole mainline straightline was just extruded plastic trash to