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Authors: Kage Baker
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slightly rumpled business suit. Nervously he shot his cuffs, smoothed his hair, stroked his close black beard and mustaches to neatness. With a final tug at his lapels, he turned and regarded the big boy with a dazzling smile. “Hey, Mr. Hearst, how’s it going? Long time no see, huh?”
Hearst raised an eyebrow. “Joseph Denham,” he said.
“Gosh, it’s been a while since I used that name. But, yeah, it’s me.” Joseph adjusted the knot of his tie. “You’re looking great these days! And I mean that sincerely. So you got your castle back again, after all these years. It must have felt swell to come home.”
“Mr. Denham,” said Hearst, “can you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t call my security team and advise the Company of your presence here?”
“Yeah,” said Joseph. “I’ve got some information you need, Mr. Hearst. Trust me—you really should hear me out.”
Hearst looked at him in silence a long moment. “I can do that,” he said at last. He turned and indicated a chair with his gaze. “Come in and sit down, Mr. Denham. And I’d like to ask you a couple of questions first, if I may.”
“Sure! No problem,” said Joseph. He crossed the threshold and went straight to the offered chair, where he made himself comfortable. Hearst picked up the hand unit of a household communications device—rendered in best Retro style to resemble a candlestick telephone—and waited a moment.
“Mary? Send up a tray with a couple of glasses of ginger ale, please. Thank you.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Joseph.
“You’re welcome.” Hearst sat down across from him and leaned forward to put the little dog on the floor. She went straight to Joseph’s shoes and became very interested in sniffing them, now and then reminding him she was on duty with a stern
whuff
. Joseph did his best to ignore her, saying only: “She looks just like the one you had the last time we met.”
“She’s a descendant, actually,” said Hearst, watching the little dog. “I call them all Helen; makes it easier, in the long run. Of course, everything’s in the long run now.” He raised his eyes to Joseph. “At least, I think it is. Maybe you’ll be able to tell me about that, Mr. Denham.”
“Okay,” said Joseph. “What do you want to know?”
“Quite a few things,” said Hearst, looking at him steadily. “First: were you involved in that Bureau of Punitive Medicine place? Were you partners with Marco, that immortal who went crazy?”
“No,” said Joseph. “Absolutely not. I was searching for somebody myself when I found the Bureau. I couldn’t tell anyone directly, but I tipped off Suleyman, the North African Section Head. I figured he’d rescue those poor bastards if anybody would. But no, I am not now, nor have I ever been partners with Marco. What else did you want to ask me, Mr. Hearst?”
Hearst watched the little dog for a moment. “What’s going to happen in the year 2355, Mr. Denham?” he said at last.
At that moment the elevator clanked and began to descend behind its brass grille. Hearst held up his hand in a gesture indicating they should wait, and Joseph nodded. The elevator rose again and a mortal woman emerged, bearing the tray of drinks Hearst had ordered. Hearst thanked her and she departed. Joseph cleared his throat as the elevator descended once more.
“So you’ve figured out about 2355, huh?” he said.
Hearst nodded. “Dr. Zeus Incorporated gives us all manner of tidbits of information about the future world, but I’ve noticed that I’m never told about anything occurring later than the year 2355. No investment information beyond that year at all. Why? And that absurd magazine they send me,
Immortal Lifestyles Monthly
—well, if you read it carefully you notice that there are no references to anything written or created after that date. No books after the year 2355, no pictures, no inventions, nothing!”
“Yeah,” said Joseph, reaching for his glass and taking a sip of
Hearst raised an eyebrow. “Joseph Denham,” he said.
“Gosh, it’s been a while since I used that name. But, yeah, it’s me.” Joseph adjusted the knot of his tie. “You’re looking great these days! And I mean that sincerely. So you got your castle back again, after all these years. It must have felt swell to come home.”
“Mr. Denham,” said Hearst, “can you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t call my security team and advise the Company of your presence here?”
“Yeah,” said Joseph. “I’ve got some information you need, Mr. Hearst. Trust me—you really should hear me out.”
Hearst looked at him in silence a long moment. “I can do that,” he said at last. He turned and indicated a chair with his gaze. “Come in and sit down, Mr. Denham. And I’d like to ask you a couple of questions first, if I may.”
“Sure! No problem,” said Joseph. He crossed the threshold and went straight to the offered chair, where he made himself comfortable. Hearst picked up the hand unit of a household communications device—rendered in best Retro style to resemble a candlestick telephone—and waited a moment.
“Mary? Send up a tray with a couple of glasses of ginger ale, please. Thank you.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Joseph.
“You’re welcome.” Hearst sat down across from him and leaned forward to put the little dog on the floor. She went straight to Joseph’s shoes and became very interested in sniffing them, now and then reminding him she was on duty with a stern
whuff
. Joseph did his best to ignore her, saying only: “She looks just like the one you had the last time we met.”
“She’s a descendant, actually,” said Hearst, watching the little dog. “I call them all Helen; makes it easier, in the long run. Of course, everything’s in the long run now.” He raised his eyes to Joseph. “At least, I think it is. Maybe you’ll be able to tell me about that, Mr. Denham.”
“Okay,” said Joseph. “What do you want to know?”
“Quite a few things,” said Hearst, looking at him steadily. “First: were you involved in that Bureau of Punitive Medicine place? Were you partners with Marco, that immortal who went crazy?”
“No,” said Joseph. “Absolutely not. I was searching for somebody myself when I found the Bureau. I couldn’t tell anyone directly, but I tipped off Suleyman, the North African Section Head. I figured he’d rescue those poor bastards if anybody would. But no, I am not now, nor have I ever been partners with Marco. What else did you want to ask me, Mr. Hearst?”
Hearst watched the little dog for a moment. “What’s going to happen in the year 2355, Mr. Denham?” he said at last.
At that moment the elevator clanked and began to descend behind its brass grille. Hearst held up his hand in a gesture indicating they should wait, and Joseph nodded. The elevator rose again and a mortal woman emerged, bearing the tray of drinks Hearst had ordered. Hearst thanked her and she departed. Joseph cleared his throat as the elevator descended once more.
“So you’ve figured out about 2355, huh?” he said.
Hearst nodded. “Dr. Zeus Incorporated gives us all manner of tidbits of information about the future world, but I’ve noticed that I’m never told about anything occurring later than the year 2355. No investment information beyond that year at all. Why? And that absurd magazine they send me,
Immortal Lifestyles Monthly
—well, if you read it carefully you notice that there are no references to anything written or created after that date. No books after the year 2355, no pictures, no inventions, nothing!”
“Yeah,” said Joseph, reaching for his glass and taking a sip of
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