“Trust you to find a grotesque angle . . . Wait, you stupid animal!”
“So what happens when they make a travel machine?” Kieran went on, intrigued by the line of thought. “Do they have it de-ex the original as soon as they press the button, and hope for the best? Or would it wait for a signal back from the receiving end first, confirming that everything there had gone okay? Otherwise, it would be just too bad for the trusting traveler, wouldn’t it?” He paused while a new ramification formed in his mind. “You know, I think I’ve just realized why the spacelines try to get you to buy the round trip up front.”
“I thought it was just so they’d have your money in the bank for the duration. Anyway, I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll ride in with you,” Kieran said. “I thought I might start looking at what the real-estate business has to offer—maybe check out a couple of the offices around the Trapezium.” That was the central area of Lowell, where the two canyon arms of Gorky Avenue from the northeast and Nineveh from roughly east, came together—named after the shape of the original structure from which it had grown. The western side of the Trapezium contained the administrative and civic district.
“Sure,” June said. “But we need to leave now. I’ve got a meeting.”
Kieran collected his coat along with Guinness’s leash and whistled through his teeth. Guinness sprang to alertness and came through from the living room to the front door, where he waited, wagging his tail with uncomprehending trust. “Maybe a stroll around town sounds like a good idea for both of us,” Kieran told him.
* * *
The real-estate agent’s name was Yinge. He had a rounded, pinkish face with babylike features, and a manner that was candid yet genial, inspiring confidence by its suggestion that even if the profession could be guilty of a little overeagerness at times, he had already read this prospective buyer as too astute to be influenced by it. Kieran hadn’t made his mind up yet if it was genuine or an art perfected over years.
“Is it a permanent residence or somewhere occasional that you’re looking for, Mr. Thorn?” Yinge asked, standing a pace back as Kieran surveyed the living and dining areas. On principle, Kieran didn’t like his correct name to be put in computers everywhere to be registered, tagged, sorted, and listed. The place was a little cramped, and the view from the veranda outside the sliding glass doors was of indoor pedestrian galleries and a shopping precinct with a maglev line; but the location was conveniently central, with all amenities close at hand. A possibility, Kieran decided.
“I travel around a lot, so it would be somewhere to use from time to time. Also as an investment.”
“I understand. You do have the advantage of better security here in the city, as opposed to somewhere remote. And the value here is solid. It can only go up.”
“But that’s going to be true of just about everywhere for a long time.”
“Yes, of course.”
Kieran sauntered through to the main bedroom, and then back to the spare room again. They had false windows with variable graphics. Right now, one was showing a scene of forested mountains with a waterfall, the other, a vista of Antarctica. Plenty of closet space, and the bathrooms were sensibly located. A pity that the kitchen on the far side of the wall tapered at such an awkward angle—a result that derived from the external shape of the structure. Kieran thought for a moment, then pointed at the wall and dragged it in a few feet, at the same time pivoting it about the far corner. It meant that the room they were in was no longer rectangular, but the change squared up the kitchen on the far side and created extra space there. Walking through the wall, he studied the kitchen again and repositioned the sink and its adjacent work tops, autochef unit and breakfast bar into the new layout. “What do you think?” he asked Yinge, who had followed him.
“Much better. You’d be happy with the angle in the bedroom?”