The Goliath Stone Read Free Page A

again.”
    She said, “This seems a long way from what you were doing.”
    “How much of that did you work out?”
    “Your project ate our launch vehicle after launch. Ate it. That alone told us it was nanotech. Were you already thinking medicine ?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “Can you talk about it now?”
    Toby thought it over first, but from the beginning he was lost. He liked to talk. “I lost track of Briareus,” he said. “We lost communications even before the money ran out and the law shut us down. But it reached the asteroid! If the rest works as well as the first phase did, one day we’ll rebuild our Shuttles and go up for the wealth of the universe.”
    “What if it doesn’t? Do you ever worry about what your lost project is doing with that asteroid?”
    “I used to have nightmares. Haven’t had one in years.”
    In the silence that followed, he could hear the TV in the bar announcing an upcoming bulletin about technology out of control. When he turned back from glaring in that direction, May said, “What’s wrong?”
    “Der Spiegel 2 getting ready to whip up a mob,” he said. “I can translate.”
    She glanced that way and saw the usual cartoon gear-and-lightning-bolt symbol. “I understand ‘quant suff’ in any language. Let’s leave.”
    *   *   *
    Outside, he spotted a cab, raised a hand to hail it, and cracked someone on the chin. “Ow! Sorry!” He held his hand and looked her over.
    “I tried to warn you,” May said.
    The tall woman said, “’Sokay.” Her coloring was Indian (feathers not dots), and she looked like a teenager, but dressed older. “You’re Dr. Glyer, right?”
    She didn’t act like a self-righteous worldsaver, but he still paid wary attention to her hands. “Right, have we met?”
    “No, William Connors showed me your picture.”
    He stopped noticing the pain in his finger. “Good grief, is he still alive?”
    Her eyes sparkled. “Oh my yes. Got a message for you.”
    “How did you find me?”
    “Somebody tracked your phone. I was in Bern for something anyway, so here I am.”
    “Where is he these days?”
    “I met him in Farmington last year, but he moves around a lot. You want the message?”
    “Sure.”
    Faster than he could react, she put an arm around his waist and a hand behind his neck, kissed him vigorously, and then pulled her face back slightly and murmured, “Wyoming.”
    A bit dazed, he said, “You want your gum back?”
    She let go, laughing. “Glad I didn’t take his bet. He said you’d keep your head enough to say something funny.”
    “Is that the whole message? ’Wyoming’?”
    “He said you’d figure out the rest. Bye.” She turned and strode down the street, owning it.
    Toby stared after her for a few steps, then turned and looked at May.
    She looked amused and interested and just a touch annoyed. “That happen to you a lot?”
    “Hardly ever.”
    “Who’s William Connors?”
    “Artificer. He designed the atom sorter for Littlemeade’s first nanos. He left us over creative differences. Jesus, he’d be in his nineties now. I don’t know how he’s still going. He wasn’t that healthy when we met. Usually used a power chair.”
    “Accident?”
    “Poor choice of grandparents. Allergies, metabolic faults, and stuff that happened when the rest worked together. He could work maybe four hours a day without getting sick, but damn, what he accomplished in four hours!”
    “Ladies’ man?”
    “From a motor chair?”
    May said, “Benjamin Franklin invented the rocking chair. I doubt it was to knit. And she acted like she knew what he could do in four hours. Good kisser?”
    “How the hell would— Oh. Uh, yeah, she is.”
    “Thought so. I think she’s had some work done. She’s older than she looks. Walking like that takes practice, I don’t care what music channels you watch. I do enjoy a challenge.”

 
    IV
I am always at a loss to know how much to believe of my own stories.
—WASHINGTON IRVING

 
    He