his eyes. As he fell he could feel his hand bonded to the choudapt’s mouth. The thin-gun fell from the numb fingers of his other hand before a pool of blackness filled his skull.
…
Simoz.
…
Simoz.
Adaptogenic
“Good morning Mr Chel,” said the two and a half metre tall two hundred kilo monster who worked as security guard for Darkander. I gave Jane a look of long-suffering and stood still while I was scanned for comlinks or any of the other equipment Darkander considered an unfair advantage.
“You are clean, Mr Chel.”
My chip card was next and the monster took it from me between a finger and thumb like the grab on a cometary mining ship. After a moment he returned it.
“Your credit is good, Mr Chel.”
After she too had been checked out Jane joined me. I smiled mild approval at her cool.
“Is it always like that?” she asked, tucking her card into one of the many pockets of her coverall.
“Always. No extra information access. No comlinks and no AIs. Darkander is very strict about it.”
“Isn’t that a bit discriminating?”
“Some free AIs once took him to court on those grounds. They lost out on a protection of antiquities law about two centuries old. He then pointed out to them that should they bring another action and win he would be forced to close down. They left him alone. Anyway, what do you think?”
Darkander’s is an anachronism. It is a huge scan-shielded warehouse where all manner of items are stacked haphazardly and sold by lot. There is no computer bidding, no microsecond business transactions. Starting from lot one everything comes under Darkander’s wooden hammer. It is a place for human experts with a relish for competition, an eye for bargains and deals, and a dislike of paying taxes. People like Jason Chel. Me.
“Now, I’m not going to point anything out to you, as I’m often watched. Anything that takes your interest mark on the list, then come back to me when you’ve finished. I’ll tell you how high to go.”
Jane smiled then swayed off amongst the chaos of goods. As I watched her go I felt a degree of discomfort. I’d promised her this visit some time ago, when I’d been drunk, and had since tried very hard to get out of it. Well, now she was here. Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much harm. I slowly followed her in and allowed my gaze to wander casually to the objects I was after. There was a box of what looked like pre-runcible tiles, probably from the belly of a shuttle, a Thakework sculpture of Orbonnai skulls, something that looked like the shell of a mollusc — I hadn’t a clue what it was, but was prepared to risk a few credits on it — and finally there was the Golem Six android, which after my cursory inspection the day before I felt sure had the mind of a three or four. This last item was the one I really wanted. Made before the twenty third revision of the Turing test these Golem were much in demand. Of course, now the auction was starting I did not look too closely at it, I instead showed a great deal of interest in some chainglass blades which were quite obviously faked to look like Tenkian’s.
The bidding started off with the usual lack of alacrity as Jane rejoined me.
“Let me see,” I took the note screen from her and studied the items she had marked. To my annoyance I noted she had marked the tiles. “I think we’ll have a cup of coffee. These — “ I tapped the stylus against the lot number of the tiles. “Won’t be up for a while, and they are the first on your… list.”
I had decided to be generous.
We sat sipping our way through a cup of coffee each as the auction progressed. At the lot before the tiles we sauntered out. As soon as this was sold we moved into Darkander’s view. The short bald-headed man who was reputed to be a multimillionaire flicked a glance in my direction and tried to start the bidding at five hundred. I caught hold of Jane’s arm before she could raise it. The figure Darkander suggested dropped in fifties until it was fifty, then started to rise again in twenty fives. Jane began to bid and as she did so I looked to see who she was bidding against.
When the figure reached four twenty-five I nudged her.
“Drop it.”
“Why?”
“You’re out of your league here and that’s about all they’re worth.”
The bidding continued to the figure of five seventy-five.
“See the fat little guy over there…” Jane nodded. “He’s the agent for the Ganymede runcible AI. It probably wants to give its containment sphere that old-world look.”
The mollusc shell was next but no one made a bid. It went into the next lot which appeared to be a collection of all sorts of junk, but I’d seen a really old digital watch lying in there and not expected a chance at it. I swore to myself for not going for the shell straight away.
I just wasn’t paying attention. On this next lot the bidding was tried at fifty then dropped to ten.
No one went for it so I gave Darkander the nod. “Going once,” he told me. “Going twice.” I couldn’t believe it. I saw the runcible agent glance at me suspiciously and begin to raise his hand. He was too late. The hammer went down. “Sold to Mr Chel.” I managed to keep a straight face.
“Good?” Jane asked.
“Yes, very good… I think.”
The Thrakework sculpture went to the woman in black. She’d always had a taste for the macabre. I bid
