some reason he doesn't. When she's out of the nunnery, he shadows her, feeling more like a cheap gum shoe than anything else.
He's seen her flash that high-voltage charm. Seen her switch it off just as fast. He's seen her watching him watch her, and he's sure she'd like it if he went away. If only he could. He's seen her way of showing interest while keeping her distance, and from what he can tell, it's all a con. She's no more interested in these corn-fed hicks than he is. But he can see why they eat it up. >From his vantage across a crowded eatery her eyes tug at him like she's got fishing line wound through his guts. From up close it must be a killer. He'll keep his distance, thank you very much.
He's tried calling. Won't call back, won't come to the sat. No surprise. What can he expect? She doesn't know him, and he can't tell her anything until he gets her alone.
Bored out of his mind, Karl studies a dog-eared paperback of mathematical puzzles. Tonight he batters his head against a century old conundrum about a crooked Chinaman, a sailor, and a length of hemp rope. So far no dice. He'll put it to Sam.
Been there forever, twenty years at least, Sam's maybe sixty. Took to Bink right away. Calls him Mr. Binks. Karl trusts him at once, not enough to reveal himself, but as far as it goes. Sam can usually help him out of a jam with these things. It's been more than a week and he's not even a quarter way through the book. Tells himself when he's through, he'll go home, whether or not he talks to her.
At the rate he's going, it'll take a month. He has two days. After that she won't have to worry about being raped. In two days she turns thirty. In two days they all do. Same hatch, brood, clutch—God knows what the right term would be. Karl doesn't know. Doesn't want to. Things designed in labs, made to look human, raised in tanks like trout, immaculate whores for rent by the hour. Gives him the creeps thinking about it.
From his chair in the corner, he broods, eyes open but unseeing. Two days and she'll be retired. Nice word, l
He's seen her flash that high-voltage charm. Seen her switch it off just as fast. He's seen her watching him watch her, and he's sure she'd like it if he went away. If only he could. He's seen her way of showing interest while keeping her distance, and from what he can tell, it's all a con. She's no more interested in these corn-fed hicks than he is. But he can see why they eat it up. >From his vantage across a crowded eatery her eyes tug at him like she's got fishing line wound through his guts. From up close it must be a killer. He'll keep his distance, thank you very much.
He's tried calling. Won't call back, won't come to the sat. No surprise. What can he expect? She doesn't know him, and he can't tell her anything until he gets her alone.
Bored out of his mind, Karl studies a dog-eared paperback of mathematical puzzles. Tonight he batters his head against a century old conundrum about a crooked Chinaman, a sailor, and a length of hemp rope. So far no dice. He'll put it to Sam.
Been there forever, twenty years at least, Sam's maybe sixty. Took to Bink right away. Calls him Mr. Binks. Karl trusts him at once, not enough to reveal himself, but as far as it goes. Sam can usually help him out of a jam with these things. It's been more than a week and he's not even a quarter way through the book. Tells himself when he's through, he'll go home, whether or not he talks to her.
At the rate he's going, it'll take a month. He has two days. After that she won't have to worry about being raped. In two days she turns thirty. In two days they all do. Same hatch, brood, clutch—God knows what the right term would be. Karl doesn't know. Doesn't want to. Things designed in labs, made to look human, raised in tanks like trout, immaculate whores for rent by the hour. Gives him the creeps thinking about it.
From his chair in the corner, he broods, eyes open but unseeing. Two days and she'll be retired. Nice word, l