Read Online A Borrowed Man by Gene Wolfe - Free Book Online

doesn’t have a ballroom, or even a private theater, but it’s quite large and rather nice.”
    I said I felt sure it must be worth at least as much as the appraiser had said and more.
    She nodded. “So at first I was going to ask a million two hundred and fifty thousand. Then I felt bad about that when I remembered how generous Cob had been to me. So I made it one million even. Of course he took it and sent me the million.”
    â€œNow you’ll have the whole house, I suppose, and your brother’s fortune as well.”
    Colette nodded again. “I suppose so. I’m the only one left. Except that really we’re all family, aren’t we? Even you. All we humans have got to be related, however distantly. Humanity can’t have evolved twice, or at least I wouldn’t think so. I’ll give some of Cob’s money to charity. Quite a lot, I believe.”
    I said it was good of her and went over to a file cabinet. “These are yours, too. Do you mind if I look?”
    â€œNot at all. Please let me know if you find anything interesting.”
    As I pulled out the uppermost drawer of the nearest file cabinet, I said, “I’m surprised that your father still had these, and all these papers to put in them. Isn’t everything on screens now?”
    Colette shrugged. “There are still things we’ve got to have paper for, stock certificates, for example. Deeds and affidavits and everything else that requires an actual signature.”
    I was still thinking about the stock certificates. “Couldn’t the company record your ownership?”
    â€œIt does, of course, because they have to know where to send your dividends. But suppose their screens were hacked?”
    â€œThere’s still hacking?” I was surprised; no doubt my face showed it.
    â€œYes, quite a lot of it. I’m told—don’t ask me to do this, I don’t know how—that you can program your own screen to hack someone else’s and alert you when it’s gotten through.”
    I pulled out a file. “Perhaps that’s why your father had these.”
    â€œWhat are they?”
    â€œArticles from the Hanover Journal of Astrophysics . They look as though he printed them out. They aren’t whole issues, simply individual articles he must have found of particular interest.”
    Colette said, “He wasn’t a scientist by training—or at least I don’t believe he was. But he was interested in just about every science you could name. Physics was only one of them. Chemistry, too, and geology.”
    A moment later I said, “Thus far I’ve found six pieces by a K. Justin Roglich. Can you look in that screen’s address book for his name?” I spelled it.
    I was reading one of Roglich’s articles when Colette said, “Here he is, Ern. He’s a Ph.D. and so forth. A full professor, too. He’s on the faculty at Birgenheier, over in Owenbright. Are we going to voice him?”
    â€œNo, you are.” I had found a paragraph in one of his articles that had been highlighted. “Tell him who you are, and explain that your father’s dead. Say that you believe—no, let me rephrase that. Tell him that you know your father consulted him, and that you’d like to consult him yourself. Say you’ll be happy to pay him for his time and trouble.”
    â€œAll right, if you say so. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
    I took a deep breath. “So do I.”
    â€œYou have a nice smile. Want to explain?”
    â€œNot now. Voice Dr. Roglich, please, if you can get him. Leave a message if you can’t.”
    She did, and looked to me for further instructions when she had done it.
    â€œOne more thing. No, several more. First, I want you to turn up a list of print-on-demand sites. Pick one, and place an order for a copy of Murder on Mars . Will you do that, please?”
    â€œBy E. A.