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find it.”
    He shook his head. “It has *****”
    “What?”
    “I think this translates as ‘shroud.’ It polarizes a molecular film on the hull, causing it to change state, making the hull a nonreflecting surface. It also projects false readings for detection devices at various electromagnetic wavelengths. And it activates an evasion program which monitors a predetermined volume of space around the ship and alters course to avoid objects—” He stopped, staring ahead of us, his mouth opening.
    I looked. We had come around the corner, into view of San Carlos Boulevard. “What’s wrong?”
    “The cars.” He motioned at San Carlos. “I’ve never seen so many in running condition before. This is why the air smells, isn’t it?”
    I grimaced. “That’s right.”
    “Your trees don’t have ****?”
    “Have what?”
    “Filters. Gengineered molecules that sift pollutants out of the air and convert them to nontoxic chemicals.”
    “Well, no. It sounds like a cool idea, though.”
    Up ahead, the bus pulled into the curb at the corner of San Carlos. I started to run, and we made it just as the bus was pulling away. I paid for both of us; not only did Althor have no money, he didn’t seem to know what it was.
    Everyone stared at Althor as we walked to the back. With his large size, his black clothes, his purple hair, and his metallic skin, he stood out like a neon sign. There were no empty seats, so we hung onto a bar while the bus bumped down the street. Althor gazed out the window, his fascination with what he saw making arcs of light, like translucent arrows circling through the bus. I had never picked up such vivid images from anyone before.
    We didn’t talk while we rode. It would have been difficult with the way we were bouncing along the street, and I didn’t want him to start in about starships when people could hear. He wasn’t holding the transcom anymore, but I couldn’t see where he put it.
    We reached the Blue Knight restaurant at about ten to four. Its canopy snapped in the breeze, and Robert, the doorman, was already at his post. I took Althor around the back. As we entered the building, we ran into Brad Steinham,.the manager. He was helping the bartender carry boxes of cans, jars, and other goods from one of the storerooms to another.
    “Hey, Brad,” I said.
    He looked up, started to smile, then saw Althor and frowned.
    He didn’t tell Althor to leave, though. Instead he glanced at me. “You okay? You look tired.”
    “Yeah, I’m fine.” I smiled. “Althor, this is Brad.” *
    Brad put down the box he was carrying and straightened up. Althor nodded, sizing up Brad while Brad sized him up. And Brad was sizing him up, literally. He might as well have come right out and asked Althor how much he could bench-press.
    Glancing at me, Brad motioned at the storeroom they were clearing out. “We’ve got leaks back there. Have to move everything before it rains tomorrow.” He looked at Althor again and Althor looked back.
    “You want a job?” Brad asked him. “Tonight. Seven dollars an hour, to help clear out the storerooms. I need my bartender at the bar.”
    “You want me to do manual labor for a wage?” Althor asked. “That’s right.” He tilted his head at me. “Tina’ll be here eight hours. You work that long I’ll pay you sixty dollars.”
    “All right,” Althor said. “What you want me to do?”
    Brad pointed to the storeroom where the bartender was heaving up a box. ‘Just follow him. He’ll show you where to move the boxes.”
    Althor went into the room and spoke to the bartender. The man nodded toward a stack of boxes, his face red as he struggled to pick up one of them. Althor picked up two with no sign of strain, moving more like a well-oiled machine than a man. He carried them easily, walking with the bartender.
    “Man,” Brad muttered. “Where do you find these hulks?” He turned to me. “We won’t be able to finish this tonight. If he works out, I can maybe