Version
Charlie Ten.7
Simon
tugged his knee-length charcoal coat tight around him; the wind was
chill today. He pressed the cell to his ear; there was lots of noisy
traffic on the busy downtown street.
"They
want to offer me the position," he said. "Should I take
it?"
Simon
reflexively scanned the faces of the crowd, glancing in car
windows at the drivers, through shop windows at the clerks, always
looking for someone he recognized. Trying to find the others. Except
his memories of them were so staticky, he couldn't hold their faces
or names, too much like a dream. And the man on the line was rarely
any help.
"I
can't tell you that," the Professor said. "You know it
doesn't work that way. At least for now."
Simon
sighed with frustration. "I'm just not sure if it's the right
thing to do. Now, with everything being so different." He
stopped briefly, thought he saw a woman across the street, red hair,
something about her familiar... And was bumped into from behind, a
careless teenager, no apology, strutting past with his crew.
"I'll
have to call you back," Simon said to the Professor. "I
have to go check myself for bugs."
"Now
that's something I can help you with, Agent Light. You're clean."
Simon
gave the street another scan, this time taking his look upward, to
the tops of the buildings, and to the sky above. He had gotten used
to thinking of the Professor as being in a satellite, although he
knew that wasn't quite the case. Or sometimes he imagined it like the
Operators in the Matrix, but that wasn't quite it either. And a lot
of the time, Simon had the dread suspicion that the Professor was
only a voice in his head.
"Let
me know what you decide about their offer. It may be significant, it
may not be."
"It'll
be a big deal to me either way," Simon said with a slight edge.
"Yes,
of course Agent Light. I'm sorry."
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