Summerhill Read Free

don’t worry about it.”
    It didn’t look as though the otter had heard him. “I don’t suppose you’ve got the time, do you?” he asked instead.
    Summerhill’s ears shot up, and his mind raced with a sudden sense of urgency. He patted at his shirt and shorts. “I—No, I don’t think so,” he said, checking his pockets twice to make sure. “Seems I forgot to bring a watch.”
    But the otter was already slipping away, his thick tail disappearing from view as it brushed past the legs of a robotic spider. His scent lingered in the air for a moment, sharper than all the others, holding Summerhill’s attention for several seconds. It made him stare dumbly into the distance before he shook it off and went back to his meandering.
    He scanned the crowd while taking some more sips of his golden, fizzy drink. If he had some clearer idea of where he wanted to go, he could better avoid bumping into any more guests.
    Not far from where he stood was a tall lizard-creature, talking animatedly about his planet’s sun. The specifics of what he was saying were lost as Summerhill let his mind get carried away by one of his more recent memories—the moment when he realized that, despite his own world not having a sun, he still somehow carried in his mind a clear notion of what a sun was .
    The shadows of the titanic skyscrapers of home began to loom over Summerhill’s mind, and to banish them, the dog swallowed back the second half of his drink in one gulp. Dwelling on the past, on home, was the last thing he wanted to do here. Heck, by rights, the S.S. Nusquam was the perfect place to escape all that. He wasn’t even sure where the ship was headed, but if the cruise really was the eternal party it seemed to be, he was content to stay aboard for as long as he possibly could.
    That thought, too, came to a screeching halt with a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a young woman. She was about as tall as Summerhill, but had pale, furless skin and curly, shoulder-length blonde hair. The word ‘human’ went through Summerhill’s head, and though the term was unfamiliar to him, he understood its meaning all the same.
She wore the formal, black-and-white garb of the hostesses Summerhill had seen around the ship, along with small crystalline earrings that glittered with the same prismatic effect as the ballroom chandeliers. In her hands she carried a device that looked like an electronic clipboard. “Might I have a brief word over here, sir?” she asked.
    Summerhill followed the hostess, who led him off of the main floor and into a corridor that was empty of other guests. Her eyes reflected a sternness that Summerhill hadn’t encountered since coming on board, but then, he also hadn’t gotten in trouble with any of the staff until now. At least, he assumed he was in trouble, since it was unlikely that the hostess had dragged him away from the crowd in order to strike up a casual chat.
    The hostess kept glancing up at Summerhill as she manipulated her clipboard-device with her fingers. “Don’t worry, sir,” she murmured. “This should only take a second. I just need to confirm your identity.” She then tapped a fingertip against her temple, and a hitherto invisible monocle appeared over her right eye, the lines of an optical readout faintly visible on the reverse side.
    If this hostess possessed the cruise’s guest list, she’d discover in no time that Summerhill wasn’t supposed to be aboard. Making a run for it seemed like a terrible idea, since given the Nusquam ’s level of technology, it was doubtful he would be able to run very far. He didn’t know what punitive measures the crew might take with him, but trying to flee probably wouldn’t make them more lenient.
    “The scanner isn’t picking up your identity, sir,” the hostess said. “If you’re a shapeshifter, I’ll have to ask you to revert to the form you had when you were first registered, sir.”
    Summerhill shook his head. “Nope. I just