Final Reckoning: The Fate of Bester Read Online Free PDF

complaint, I could get these guys off of the street. I think you were trying to help Louise, but if you really want to help”
    “I had no intention of helping her,” Bester said.
    “I was just walking around, looking for a place to stay. This is a hotel, and I was looking at it. The gentleman in question simply mistook what I was interested in. You don’t really think an old man like me thought he could handle those fellows, do you?”
    The cop cocked his head skeptically.
    “You didn’t look too worried to me.”
    “I don’t worry much, anymore. I’ve discovered that the universe dumps on you when it wants to. Being upset about it doesn’t help a bit.”
    The cop rolled his eyes in disgust, but Louise quirked a reluctant little smile.
    “Have it your way, then,” the officer said.
    “Louise, I’ll see you later. Alive, I hope.”
    “Good-bye, Lucien,” Bester took that as his sign to leave as well, but he hadn’t turned the corner when Louise’s voice floated after him.
    “It’s ten credits a night, or five a day if you plan to stay for more than a week.”
    He turned, slowly, really looked at the hotel for the first time. It had a small cafe-just a room with a few tables and chairs, it seemed-and three stories. The building looked nineteenth-century, maybe early twentieth.
    “Does that include meals?” he asked.
    “Meals are a credit extra, and you can’t complain about what 1 make.”
    He walked a few steps toward her. He was, after all, feeling tired, and his juvenile buoyance of an hour earlier had defiantly reversed itself. The Alfred Bester hunters were combing the universe to find a man who liked the finest things. The apartments he had abandoned were spacious, capaciously furnished with art, provisioned with good wine and brandy. Who would ever think to look for him in a crumbling hotel in the Pigalle?
    “May I see the room first?” he asked.

Chapter 3
    Bester passed a forkful of chicken thoroughly to his mouth and chewed. He sensed someone watching him, and glanced around. It was the hotel owner, Louise.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “How is it?”
    They were alone in the little dining room, though a young couple had been there when he arrived. Business did not seem brisk.
    “I can’t complain,” he replied. She nodded.
    “It’s one of my better dishes.”
    “No-I mean I can’t complain. You told me so this afternoon.”
    She folded her arms and looked down at him.
    “You don’t like it?” she asked.
    “I certainly didn’t say that.”
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    He looked up at her with his “thinking cap” face.
    “Well… I’m not complaining, mind you-but for chicken I might have made the roux a shade or two lighter. And I would have chopped the onions much finer.”
    “I see.”
    “But I’m not complaining,” he said, eating another bite.
    She looked at him severely for a second or two.
    “You didn’t tell me how long you’re staying,” she said at last.
    “Oh, at least a week. Maybe more.”
    “Very well. But if you stay only six days, I will charge you the ten credits a night, you understand?”
    “Perfectly,” Al replied.
    “Well… well,” she finished and went back into the kitchen.
    A second later, she popped back out.
    “And don’t blame me if Jem and his gang come back and give you a beating. You saw what the situation is. You understand?”
    “Yes,” Bester replied again, wondering when she would leave him alone to finish his meal in peace.
    “Good.”
    This time she stayed in the kitchen. He could hear the pots and pans banging around as she did dishes. Did she really work here all alone?
    Outside, the streets faded to purple, and then the lights came on, puddles of yellow in the dark.
    What was he doing here? What was he going to do? Given medical technology and his own good health, he could easily live another thirty years-a small lifetime. He had planned to spend those years guiding the Corps toward its destiny, mentoring younger