Read Online Harsh Lessons by L. J. Kendall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. J. Kendall
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her cheerfulness had vanished.
'Something the matter?'
'I was just wondering what Faith was doing, tonight.'
'Faith?'
She pursed her lips. Finally, nodded. 'We used to… do stuff together. Play.'
James raised one eyebrow.
'Not that kind of stuff! She's just a friend. A dog, actually: an Asgard Model 3 CK9.'
James looked it up, and stopped dead, which forced Leeth to turn toward him. 'CK9s were designed to hunt and kill eco-terrorists! It'd be deadly!'
'Well, sure. But fun to play with, and super cuddly.'
She slipped her arm around his waist, and snuggled in to his side.
'Much like you,' James suggested. The comment appeared to cheer her, though her thoughts appeared to be far away. 'Did you have any, ah, adventures, with Faith?'
The look she turned to him held a great depth of feeling, and her mouth opened; but she didn't speak. After a moment, she forced a smile. 'I'm Samantha Westin, remember? I don't have cyberdog friends.' She looked around. 'We need to stay in character.'
James checked. The nearest person was well out of earshot, a hundred meters away – well, ninety-four, his optic range-finder showed – but he was happy to play along.
He patted her slender wrist, draped over his arm. 'You know, Samantha, this is probably one of the few places in the whole cityplex where people can walk the streets safely, at night. It has the lowest murder rate of anywhere in New Francisco.'
Smiling down at her, he saw her expression sour and her lips purse as she pulled her arm free of his. Defensive , he wondered? Why would she-
'That's not my fault. I've only ever even been here once before!'
He blinked.
'Uh-' She thinks I'm blaming her for the low death rate! Suddenly, the doubts were back.
They took their seats near the center of the eighth row comfortably in time for the performance. As the crowd finished filtering into the large, ornately-decorated auditorium, James was all smiles and anticipation. Leeth, however, pushed herself further back into the dark red velvet. Her face had screwed up in disbelief, as if tortured by the orchestral warm-up.
'Stop over-reacting: they're just tuning up,' he admonished her.
'Why wait till now ? Are they running late?'
James blinked. 'This is just the final tuning. It's part of the ritual; adds to the ambiance.' Her lips compressed into a thin line. 'Part of the joy is hearing harmony blossom from cacophony, like magic.'
Leeth put one finger into an ear, drawing it back to theatrically examine the tip. 'Huh. Well, at least they're not bleeding. Yet .'
James frowned, and met her eyes directly. 'Come, Samantha , try to be open-minded.'
Leeth scowled, then forced a happy expression, telling herself she was supposed to be enjoying this, impressed by it all.
'They're of course using analog instruments,' James added, nodding significantly. Like that made them somehow better than digital.
Leeth was unconvinced. Sure, the instruments sounded richer and realer played live – way different to recordings. At the edges of hearing, some of the odd peaks and deep notes even sent shivers through her. But a lot of those bits were also… off .
Maybe they couldn't tune them? That'd explain why no one ever recorded them.
She kept her opinions to herself, but if the painful torture went on much longer, someone was going to be sorry.
James chose that moment to put his mouth to her ear: as if she was deaf or something. 'We're very lucky – this is the first part of Das Rheingold , the Ring Saga. I think you'll like it.'
She quickly forced her grimace back into a smile. Then the lights were dimming, the massive gold curtain rising.
She wondered how long the performance would be.
For five disbelieving minutes Leeth kept silent, before conceding defeat. 'James, I can't understand what they're singing.'
James didn't seem to hear her, so she whispered it again, louder.
'James!'
Leeth gritted
'Something the matter?'
'I was just wondering what Faith was doing, tonight.'
'Faith?'
She pursed her lips. Finally, nodded. 'We used to… do stuff together. Play.'
James raised one eyebrow.
'Not that kind of stuff! She's just a friend. A dog, actually: an Asgard Model 3 CK9.'
James looked it up, and stopped dead, which forced Leeth to turn toward him. 'CK9s were designed to hunt and kill eco-terrorists! It'd be deadly!'
'Well, sure. But fun to play with, and super cuddly.'
She slipped her arm around his waist, and snuggled in to his side.
'Much like you,' James suggested. The comment appeared to cheer her, though her thoughts appeared to be far away. 'Did you have any, ah, adventures, with Faith?'
The look she turned to him held a great depth of feeling, and her mouth opened; but she didn't speak. After a moment, she forced a smile. 'I'm Samantha Westin, remember? I don't have cyberdog friends.' She looked around. 'We need to stay in character.'
James checked. The nearest person was well out of earshot, a hundred meters away – well, ninety-four, his optic range-finder showed – but he was happy to play along.
He patted her slender wrist, draped over his arm. 'You know, Samantha, this is probably one of the few places in the whole cityplex where people can walk the streets safely, at night. It has the lowest murder rate of anywhere in New Francisco.'
Smiling down at her, he saw her expression sour and her lips purse as she pulled her arm free of his. Defensive , he wondered? Why would she-
'That's not my fault. I've only ever even been here once before!'
He blinked.
'Uh-' She thinks I'm blaming her for the low death rate! Suddenly, the doubts were back.
They took their seats near the center of the eighth row comfortably in time for the performance. As the crowd finished filtering into the large, ornately-decorated auditorium, James was all smiles and anticipation. Leeth, however, pushed herself further back into the dark red velvet. Her face had screwed up in disbelief, as if tortured by the orchestral warm-up.
'Stop over-reacting: they're just tuning up,' he admonished her.
'Why wait till now ? Are they running late?'
James blinked. 'This is just the final tuning. It's part of the ritual; adds to the ambiance.' Her lips compressed into a thin line. 'Part of the joy is hearing harmony blossom from cacophony, like magic.'
Leeth put one finger into an ear, drawing it back to theatrically examine the tip. 'Huh. Well, at least they're not bleeding. Yet .'
James frowned, and met her eyes directly. 'Come, Samantha , try to be open-minded.'
Leeth scowled, then forced a happy expression, telling herself she was supposed to be enjoying this, impressed by it all.
'They're of course using analog instruments,' James added, nodding significantly. Like that made them somehow better than digital.
Leeth was unconvinced. Sure, the instruments sounded richer and realer played live – way different to recordings. At the edges of hearing, some of the odd peaks and deep notes even sent shivers through her. But a lot of those bits were also… off .
Maybe they couldn't tune them? That'd explain why no one ever recorded them.
She kept her opinions to herself, but if the painful torture went on much longer, someone was going to be sorry.
James chose that moment to put his mouth to her ear: as if she was deaf or something. 'We're very lucky – this is the first part of Das Rheingold , the Ring Saga. I think you'll like it.'
She quickly forced her grimace back into a smile. Then the lights were dimming, the massive gold curtain rising.
She wondered how long the performance would be.
For five disbelieving minutes Leeth kept silent, before conceding defeat. 'James, I can't understand what they're singing.'
James didn't seem to hear her, so she whispered it again, louder.
'James!'
Leeth gritted
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