Friday, December 06, 2205
When Geronimo Diaz Sanchez entered the office he had been told to go, he knew immediately who the ancient man behind the desk was: Ian G. Piper. In the flesh. Diaz cringed, stammered an apology and was about to leave the room again. Someone must have played a very nasty trick on him.
Piper raised a hand defensively and said in that soft, almost hypnotic voice, "Come in, Mr. Diaz. You're right here as it is."
Diaz paused in his stride, turned and re-entered the office, hesitant. Had he ruined anything serious? What in the world could Piper want from him? Piper!?
But Piper kindly pointed to the seat in front of his desk and said "Come on. Sit down." That didn't sound like he'd be out of his job in five minutes, Diaz thought. So his curiosity and confidence won out, and he sat down across from the old man. The desk was empty. Not even a visiphon or a hologenerator.
"As you may know, it's my habit to bang the door," Piper whispered. "Right now, I don't have time for small talk. I became aware of you through some articles you wrote as a member of the Deep Space Development Commission. I understand you didn't make a lot of friends with them."
Diaz frowned. What was the point of these old stories now?
"Anyway," Piper continued, "you're here today because I need your advice." Diaz frowned again, this time in surprise.
"I need your expertise on the systems we currently have access to. And on everything we know about the Links."
"Maybe ..." Diaz hesitated. "Maybe there would be people who could help you better in that regard. Professor Roswell, for example. I'm more of a practitioner ..."
"Roswell is a miserable academic windblower," Piper growled. "If you try to pin him down on something, he squirms like an eel. I want to talk to you because you're a practitioner. And I promise you that you can say anything you think in this room without me pulling any punches."
They always say that when they want to pull a fast one on you, Diaz thought.
"Maybe now you think that's what your superiors used to say when they wanted to pull a fast one on you," Piper continued with a thin grin.
What the hell ..., thought Diaz. Could the old man read minds?
"But you'll find in a few moments that I'm willing to go a long way to make sure you throw out your concerns about that. Did you know that you had a very wealthy uncle in the Scouts who recently passed away?"
"Uh ... no!" replied Diaz with little originality.
"He probably didn't know about it either," Piper nodded. It sounded ... sarcastic? "A Mr. Either. Lost in action some time ago. He's now been pronounced dead. Standard procedure. And his assets are yours. This is all real and one hundred percent on file in the bureaucracy as well as documented through research by the state probate department. You will already have a corresponding official notification in your mailbox. The money is also already in your account. What I'm asking you to check now."
Diaz allowed himself a few seconds of stupefaction and then unfolded his PA to briefly check the account balance. While his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked at the total, Piper continued, "So you see, if you think I'm orchestrating a rather complicated cabal here to really screw you over, you couldn't care less now. You could even stand up and resign now, but of course I hope you won't."
Cabal, Diaz thought. He actually said 'cabal'. Also: What the hell is happening here?
Piper sat back and smirked thinly. "You'll have to pay an inheritance tax on it, of course, but there'll probably be enough left over anyway. And now," he leaned forward again, "enough of the blah blah. Tell me about the Links."
YOU ARE READING
Piper (English version)
Science FictionThis is the first tiny part of a rather large SF project: a future history of mankind. It is told in the form of short stories. The time interval between the stories is a few months to a few years, the protagonists appear mostly only once, but some...
