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ONE

TARVER

NOTHING ABOUT THIS ROOM IS REAL If this were a party at home, the music would draw your eye to huht the room, and the wooden tables would beto each other, instead of checking to see who’s watching them

Even the air here smells filtered and fake The candles in the sconces do flicker, but they’re powered by a steady source Hover trays weave a drinks The string quartet is only a hologram--perfect and infallible, and exactly the sa for a laid-back evening joking around withstuck here in this imitation scene from a historical novel

For all their trendy Victorian tricks, there’s no hiding where we are Outside the viewports, the stars are like faded white lines, half-invisible, surreal The Icarus, passing through dimensional hyperspace, would look just as faded, half-transparent, if so faster than light

I’ainst the bookshelves when it occurs tohere is real--the books I reach behind h leather of their antique spines, then pull one free Nobody here reads them; the books are for decoration Chosen for the richness of their leather bindings, not for the contents of their pages Nobody will miss one, and I need a dose of reality

I’ for the ca field officers with the upper crust will create soround where none exists, let the paparazzi infesting the Icarus seewith the elite I keep thinking that the photographers will get their fill of shots ofin the first-class salon, but in the teeks I’ve been on board, they haven’t

These folks love a good rags-to-riches tale, even if my riches are no more than the medals pinned to my chest It still ood, the rich people look good, and it gives the poor people so to aspire to See? say all the headlines You too can rocket your way up to riches and faood, why can’t you?

If it wasn’t for what happened on Patron, I wouldn’t even be here What they call heroics, I call a tragic debacle But nobody’s askingin the clusters of woowns, officers in dress unifor coats and top hats The ebb and flow of the crowd is unsettling--patterns I’ll never get used to no matter how many times I’m forced to rub elboith these people

My eyes fall on a man who’s just entered, and it takesabout hi to blend in His black tailcoat is too threadbare, and his top hat isthe shiny satin ribbon that’s in fashion I’ that doesn’t fit, and in this sea of surgically perfected faces, his is a beacon There are lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, his skin weather-beaten and ripping the lapels of his jacket and letting go again

My heart kicks up a beat I’ve spent too long in the colonies, where anything out of place ht kill you I ease away from the bookshelves and start to weavemonocles they can’t possibly need I want to knohy he’s here, but I’ the push and pull of the croith agonizing patience If I shove, I’ll draw attention And if he is dangerous, any sudden shift in the energy of the roohts up the world as a caoes off in le of wo on me from the direction of the viewport "Oh, you simply must take a picture with us"

Their insincerity is poisonous I’s, here--they know it, and I know it, but they can’t pass up an opportunity to be seen with a real, live war hero

"Sure, I’ll just come back in a minute, if--" Before I can finish, all three women are posed around me, lips pursed and lashes lowered Smile for the capain at the base of ed headache The wo in close, and I can’t see the raphers is buzzing around me, his voice a low drone I step sideways to look past hies Blinking hard, s from the bar, to the door, the hover trays, the booths I try to remember what he looked like, the line of his clothes Was there roo under his dinner jacket? Could he be arrapher’s still talking

"Yes?" No, I wasn’t listening I disentangle myself fro closer to speak with him I wish I could shove past this little man, or better yet, tell him there’s a threat and watch how fast he vanishes from the room

"I said I’ to sneak up here too"