Read Online Tangled Intersections by Eva LeFoy - Free Book Online Page A

landed on the
slip-free matting at Dr. Grison’s feet. Two seconds later, a
cleaning bot scooped it up. Erasing all traces that Rister had been
there. Grison hoped, prayed that sooner rather than later, all
traces Rister had ever existed would be erased entirely.
    Taking his leave at last,
he smiled at the captive man and then nodded to the guards. Nothing
left to say, but thank you for not letting
that lunatic kill me , he turned his
attention back to the hoverbot.
    It shot off down the hallway at a good
clip, not looking back to see if he followed.
    Sighing, he hurried down the
passageway dodging pedestrians, all the while following the
blinking blue lines, and stopping at the solid red ones to look
both ways. Always a good citizen, he tipped the bot when they
arrived at his rooms, and got its reference number: C35374. The
exchange was as good as a handshake, best one could hope for with a
mechanoid anyway. C35374 informed him his personal items would be
delivered to his room upon arrival of the mail cruiser.
    All he had to do now was settle in and
wait.
     
     
     
    Nidi Station
    Habitation Zone E5
     
    Grison awoke to the intercom blaring
right above his head.
    Attention all Nidi Station
habitants. There has been a transporter accident at Corridor C
Section 511, Intersection 12.
    A video opened, showing the grisly
scene. It was quite clear what had happened, and Grison shuddered
despite his heart rate hovering near overload.
    This area is closed until
further notice. You will be notified when access is restored. As a
reminder, please obey the station’s safety protocols. Watch for and
avoid flashing red lines on the pedestrian walkways. Failure to do
may result in personal injury, or even death.
    The closing slogan for the station’s
newscast sounded, then the whole thing repeated in language choice
two. Grison reached up, clicked off the monitor, and flopped back
on the bed. Sweat dotted his brow and pooled under his clothes.
Enough adrenaline pounded through his veins he felt like he’d just
been for a three hour jog. The image of the man partially beamed
into the surrounding architecture with just his feet and shins
sticking out stayed with him like a bad smell, reminding him of the
dangers inherent in such an old model station. It wasn’t yet his
normal rise time, but, too jittery to sit still, he got out of bed
and strode to the mirror.
    In the reflection, his
eyes were wild, his hair mussed and his clothes rumpled. He looked
like a crazy person. “I need to calm down, that’s all.” He took in
a deep breath and closed his eyes. The hum of the station’s power
cells and the environmental system sounded rhythmic and
even. Craaawk. Vroooom. Craaawk.
Vroooom. Almost like a man’s voice. If he
listened hard enough, he might be able to hear what it was saying.
See if it was talking to him.
    Startled by the thought, he opened his
eyes and jerked, letting out a small fearful wail. Immediately he
scowled, disgusted by his antics. “Get a hold of yourself Grison.
Remember, you’re not the crazy one!”
    Walking calmly away from the mirror,
he studied his quarters. Apparently on Nidi Station, luxury
accommodations meant your own miniscule bathroom, a tiny kitchen
unit with an in-wall fusion cooker and a port window. All done up
in a tedious light gray, the rooms hardly screamed fashionable, but
they’d do for his needs. He wasn’t expecting company. Still, a
change of clothes would be nice. Stopping by the console, he sent a
message to C35374. Then, he got in the shower.
    Emerging half-damp, he was
surprised to see a parcel sitting where one hadn’t been before. A
long, brownish colored duffle, it sat lumpily on the coffee table.
He studied it suspiciously, not entirely convinced it was his and
unsure how to approach it if it wasn’t. Looking around, he searched
the area for any sign of an intruder and then, slowly let his guard
down. He approached the bag and read the name tag. Dr. Maynard Grison.
    So it was