too tightly. She finally got off the train two stops late and walked back. The mega-crowds were bad but not as bad as being a human sardine in a subterranean can.
She was wearing civilian, casual clothes, comfortable for traveling, instead of her security uniform. The first person she met at the entrance to the SRI building was a security guard who stopped her with a raised hand.
“Excuse me,” he demanded arrogantly. “May I ask what your business is here?”
Charlie regarded the dirt-side security man. Like any person in any kind of position of power, he was implicitly demanding her respect. Silently she showed him her SRI identification. It was red: red for space qualified.
“Thank you,” he said sheepishly, his whole power base eroded.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie said offhandedly and strolled by. She passed through three detectors: metal, explosives, biological and chemical. She went to the receptionist and flashed her ID again. No power games here.
“Yes?” the pretty, young Japanese girl asked in very good English. “What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?”
“I’m here to see Security Head Mitchel. Would you inform his secretary I’m here? Also, I need a room. I just came in from the Moon.”
“Fine,” the woman replied, working her computer. “Here or the Arcology?”
Charlie was surprised. “Is the Arcology that much completed?”
“Yes,” the woman answered. “The SRI hospital has been moved there, making more room for offices here.”
“How long does it take to get there?”
The girl looked sympathetic, or she was hoping Charlie wouldn’t ask that. “The direct subway isn’t finished, yet. A helicopter trip takes about half an hour. But the rooms are much bigger.”
“Too long. I’ll take a room here.”
“Fine,” the girl said, as if it really was. “ID, please?”
Charlie handed it over and the girl put it in the computer.
“Room 2356-A,” she recited, looking at her computer. “Twenty-third floor.” She held out Charlie’s ID.
“Thank you,” Charlie said sincerely. She went to the bank of elevators, found the hostel express (floor 20 through 25), and took it to the prescribed level. Her ID card opened the room.
She’d seen closets bigger than the room, but she’d stayed here before and knew what to expect. First she used her computer—the room had an interface—to access the SRI company store. She looked over the dresses; her attire was a little too casual to be seen on the executive floors. Something appropriate but not necessarily business-like was what she wanted.
All the dresses had long, flowing skirts; apparently the current fashion. She picked one with a color she thought would look good on her—and was very close to SRI Security red—and arranged to have it delivered with corresponding shoes and foundation. Charlie enjoyed dressing in nice clothes but hardly ever got a chance in space. That, and Mitch was an old bachelor and friend. He’d appreciate the extra effort.
***
Charlie remembered when she met Mitchel what seemed ages ago, but was in reality only about five years. It was in Boulder; Charlie was in the SRI school. She’d been there long enough that her weekends were free and a group of girls had talked her into going out with them. Near the University of Colorado was the usual series of bars aimed toward collegiate clientele, and the SRI security trainees were going to try to pass themselves off as co-eds. But Charlie grew tired of the drinking and the behavior of the college boys. Even though she was the same age, they seemed so frivolous and self-possessed. Her friends didn’t want to leave so Charlie walked to the light rail terminal by herself.
There was an older man waiting for the train with a suitcase and a briefcase, marking him in her mind as a traveling businessman. Charlie assumed his destination was the expensive neighborhoods in the foothills of the Rockies. He was big and muscular with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. O nly
She was wearing civilian, casual clothes, comfortable for traveling, instead of her security uniform. The first person she met at the entrance to the SRI building was a security guard who stopped her with a raised hand.
“Excuse me,” he demanded arrogantly. “May I ask what your business is here?”
Charlie regarded the dirt-side security man. Like any person in any kind of position of power, he was implicitly demanding her respect. Silently she showed him her SRI identification. It was red: red for space qualified.
“Thank you,” he said sheepishly, his whole power base eroded.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie said offhandedly and strolled by. She passed through three detectors: metal, explosives, biological and chemical. She went to the receptionist and flashed her ID again. No power games here.
“Yes?” the pretty, young Japanese girl asked in very good English. “What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?”
“I’m here to see Security Head Mitchel. Would you inform his secretary I’m here? Also, I need a room. I just came in from the Moon.”
“Fine,” the woman replied, working her computer. “Here or the Arcology?”
Charlie was surprised. “Is the Arcology that much completed?”
“Yes,” the woman answered. “The SRI hospital has been moved there, making more room for offices here.”
“How long does it take to get there?”
The girl looked sympathetic, or she was hoping Charlie wouldn’t ask that. “The direct subway isn’t finished, yet. A helicopter trip takes about half an hour. But the rooms are much bigger.”
“Too long. I’ll take a room here.”
“Fine,” the girl said, as if it really was. “ID, please?”
Charlie handed it over and the girl put it in the computer.
“Room 2356-A,” she recited, looking at her computer. “Twenty-third floor.” She held out Charlie’s ID.
“Thank you,” Charlie said sincerely. She went to the bank of elevators, found the hostel express (floor 20 through 25), and took it to the prescribed level. Her ID card opened the room.
She’d seen closets bigger than the room, but she’d stayed here before and knew what to expect. First she used her computer—the room had an interface—to access the SRI company store. She looked over the dresses; her attire was a little too casual to be seen on the executive floors. Something appropriate but not necessarily business-like was what she wanted.
All the dresses had long, flowing skirts; apparently the current fashion. She picked one with a color she thought would look good on her—and was very close to SRI Security red—and arranged to have it delivered with corresponding shoes and foundation. Charlie enjoyed dressing in nice clothes but hardly ever got a chance in space. That, and Mitch was an old bachelor and friend. He’d appreciate the extra effort.
***
Charlie remembered when she met Mitchel what seemed ages ago, but was in reality only about five years. It was in Boulder; Charlie was in the SRI school. She’d been there long enough that her weekends were free and a group of girls had talked her into going out with them. Near the University of Colorado was the usual series of bars aimed toward collegiate clientele, and the SRI security trainees were going to try to pass themselves off as co-eds. But Charlie grew tired of the drinking and the behavior of the college boys. Even though she was the same age, they seemed so frivolous and self-possessed. Her friends didn’t want to leave so Charlie walked to the light rail terminal by herself.
There was an older man waiting for the train with a suitcase and a briefcase, marking him in her mind as a traveling businessman. Charlie assumed his destination was the expensive neighborhoods in the foothills of the Rockies. He was big and muscular with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. O nly
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