Read Online The Gist Hunter by Matthews Hughes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Matthews Hughes
Tags: Science-Fiction
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me such sentiments do not trouble your kind."
There was a pause. "Perhaps I was wrong."
"Then my attributes have not contaminated your circuits. For I am never wrong."
"Are you sure?" it said, indicating the puzzle on my worktable.
I felt a tinge of self-doubt. It was an unfamiliar sensation and not one that I enjoyed. "Why are you doing this to me?" I said.
In its answer I caught a tone that I had not heard before from my assistant, a tone that did not bode well for our future.
"Because I can?"
Finding Sajessarian
Sigbart Sajessarian came to me with an unusual request.
"I want you to find me," he said. He offered a substantial fee.
"There you are," I said, gesturing to where his slim figure reposed upon the visitor's divan in my workroom. "I could never accept such handsome remuneration for so brief an assignment. What do you say we waive it altogether?"
A short but deep vertical shadow appeared between Sajessarian's eyebrows and the skin over his cheeks tightened. I recognized the signs of irritation and was reminded of a recent discussion with the integrator that I had assembled to be my research assistant.
"My wit is often not appreciated by my clients," I had said. "Perhaps it is too subtle."
"Perhaps it is because they come to you in direst need, with weighty matters of life or security hanging by frayed and slender threads," the device said. "That would not lead them to expect facetious banter, nor to welcome its appearance."
I conceded the point. "Still," I said, "a few well-chosen words can lighten the mood."
"Providing they are indeed well chosen," it said, "the test of which would be the client's answering smile or chuckle. But when the reaction is a scowl or blank incomprehension, one might conclude that the witticism is ill placed."
I made a gesture to indicate the inconsequentiality of our discussion. "Some people are impervious to the subtler forms of humor."
"That must be a comforting thought," the integrator said.
Not for the first time, I made a mental note to review my assistant's cognitive architecture. The better grade of integrators were expected to evolve and complexify themselves, and I knew that I had installed a disputatious element in this one's reflective and evaluative functions. But I was beginning to wonder if the components had lapsed out of balance.
I decided I would schedule a full review for the earliest convenient moment, but when that moment might arrive was difficult to foresee. I was, after all, Henghis Hapthorn, Old Earth's most eminent freelance discriminator, and thus in constant demand. Currently I was conducting six discriminations, five involving cases that had baffled the best sleuths of the Archonate's renowned Bureau of Scrutiny. The other concerned an attempt to extort funds and favors from Ogram Fillanny. He was an immensely wealthy member of Olkney's mercantile class who delighted in certain discreditable, juvenile pastimes which could harm only himself—and even then, only if he indulged to gross excess—but were nonetheless unlikely to win him widespread acclaim.
And then in the midst of it all, Sigbart Sajessarian appeared at my premises and requested that I find him. "Perhaps my levity was ill timed," I said, and saw the dark line between his brows fade to a mere crease. "Please tell me more."
He rose from the divan and began to stroll about the workroom in an abstracted manner. "I am, as I'm sure you know, something of an adventurer," he said.
"Indeed," I replied. In truth, I knew that he was a skilled blackmailer and purloiner and that he would probably have poisoned public wells if he could have gained a grimlet from it, but my saying so at this juncture would truncate our conversation before I could find out where it might lead. And I was curious, so I said, "Indeed," a second time.
"I am engaged," he went on, "in an affair which may outrage certain well-placed parties for a span of time. If they should lay hold of me before the situation
There was a pause. "Perhaps I was wrong."
"Then my attributes have not contaminated your circuits. For I am never wrong."
"Are you sure?" it said, indicating the puzzle on my worktable.
I felt a tinge of self-doubt. It was an unfamiliar sensation and not one that I enjoyed. "Why are you doing this to me?" I said.
In its answer I caught a tone that I had not heard before from my assistant, a tone that did not bode well for our future.
"Because I can?"
Finding Sajessarian
Sigbart Sajessarian came to me with an unusual request.
"I want you to find me," he said. He offered a substantial fee.
"There you are," I said, gesturing to where his slim figure reposed upon the visitor's divan in my workroom. "I could never accept such handsome remuneration for so brief an assignment. What do you say we waive it altogether?"
A short but deep vertical shadow appeared between Sajessarian's eyebrows and the skin over his cheeks tightened. I recognized the signs of irritation and was reminded of a recent discussion with the integrator that I had assembled to be my research assistant.
"My wit is often not appreciated by my clients," I had said. "Perhaps it is too subtle."
"Perhaps it is because they come to you in direst need, with weighty matters of life or security hanging by frayed and slender threads," the device said. "That would not lead them to expect facetious banter, nor to welcome its appearance."
I conceded the point. "Still," I said, "a few well-chosen words can lighten the mood."
"Providing they are indeed well chosen," it said, "the test of which would be the client's answering smile or chuckle. But when the reaction is a scowl or blank incomprehension, one might conclude that the witticism is ill placed."
I made a gesture to indicate the inconsequentiality of our discussion. "Some people are impervious to the subtler forms of humor."
"That must be a comforting thought," the integrator said.
Not for the first time, I made a mental note to review my assistant's cognitive architecture. The better grade of integrators were expected to evolve and complexify themselves, and I knew that I had installed a disputatious element in this one's reflective and evaluative functions. But I was beginning to wonder if the components had lapsed out of balance.
I decided I would schedule a full review for the earliest convenient moment, but when that moment might arrive was difficult to foresee. I was, after all, Henghis Hapthorn, Old Earth's most eminent freelance discriminator, and thus in constant demand. Currently I was conducting six discriminations, five involving cases that had baffled the best sleuths of the Archonate's renowned Bureau of Scrutiny. The other concerned an attempt to extort funds and favors from Ogram Fillanny. He was an immensely wealthy member of Olkney's mercantile class who delighted in certain discreditable, juvenile pastimes which could harm only himself—and even then, only if he indulged to gross excess—but were nonetheless unlikely to win him widespread acclaim.
And then in the midst of it all, Sigbart Sajessarian appeared at my premises and requested that I find him. "Perhaps my levity was ill timed," I said, and saw the dark line between his brows fade to a mere crease. "Please tell me more."
He rose from the divan and began to stroll about the workroom in an abstracted manner. "I am, as I'm sure you know, something of an adventurer," he said.
"Indeed," I replied. In truth, I knew that he was a skilled blackmailer and purloiner and that he would probably have poisoned public wells if he could have gained a grimlet from it, but my saying so at this juncture would truncate our conversation before I could find out where it might lead. And I was curious, so I said, "Indeed," a second time.
"I am engaged," he went on, "in an affair which may outrage certain well-placed parties for a span of time. If they should lay hold of me before the situation
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