Primary Inversion Read Online Free PDF

“Thanks,” I said.
           His “office” turned out to be a cubbyhole between a restroom and a closet. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with holobooks and old style texts with paper pages. A faint odor of oil hung in the air. Equipment lay scattered everywhere: optical tools, dismantled holoscreens, parts of mesh consoles, jacks for human/mesh interfaces, and pieces of soldering-lasers. The clutter covered every available surface and hung from anything that remotely resembled a hook. The promised armchairs were buried under boxes of hologram film.
           “Here.” Tiller cleared off three chairs, transferring the boxes to his already crowded desk.
           I chose an armchair with a worn covering that crackled. Rex settled into a green armchair. When Tiller drew up his seat, we made a small circle. He pulled a rod out of his pocket and tapped it against his knee. With a hum, it unrolled into a flexible screen on his lap. Dark letters appeared, suspended above the screen, and a holocam icon glowed in one corner, which probably meant he was making a visual recording.
           “Okay.” Tiller glanced up at us. “Tell me what happened.”
           “A Trader Aristo is visiting the Arcade,” I said.
           Tiller’s face paled. “And?”
           I wondered at his reaction. “Do you know why we call the Eubians by the name Traders?”
           He spoke with difficulty. “I know—knew—someone who was on a ship captured by a Eubian Huntercraft. His family has been trying to find him for six years. The authorities say he’s probably been sold to an Aristo.”
           “I’m sorry.” Their chances of rescuing his friend were nil. “We think that may be why this Aristo is here. To find providers.”
           As Tiller’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair, my own knuckles started to ache. “You think he’s planning to kidnap someone?”
           Rex rubbed his hands, massaging the knuckles. “It’s possible.”
           “Why would an Aristo come to Delos for that?” Tiller asked.
           “Providers have to be empaths,” Rex said. “And empaths are rare, particularly among the Traders. He might have thought he had a better chance of finding one here.”
           Tiller spoke carefully. “The official Allied position is that empaths don’t exist.”
           Rex stiffened. Being told you didn’t exist wasn’t the most endearing statement. He spoke coolly. “That’s not our problem.”
           Tiller held up his hands. “I didn’t say we all thought that. Just that the experts aren’t officially convinced true empaths exist.”
           I wondered how an official conviction differed from an unofficial one. His reaction intrigued me. He wanted to know what we could tell him about empaths far more than he let on. Why?
           “An entire range exists,” I said. “From simple empaths all the way to those who can sometimes pick up the thoughts that go with the emotions.”
           A surge of excitement made my stomach feel like shimmerflies danced in it. In the same instant Tiller said, “You mean telepathy, yes? Are you—?” He stopped himself. “I don’t mean to pry. I’ve just never met telepaths before. I mean, you have to be, right? If you’re Jagernauts?”
           I couldn’t help but smile. I liked Tiller. Most people wanted to be as far from us as possible, fearing we would violate their privacy. I had heard fabulous talents attributed to Jagernauts, everything from altering coastlines to adjusting the future. In truth, the best we could do was catch unusually intense thoughts, and even that was difficult unless the sender was also an empath or telepath.
           “A Jagernaut must be five or above on the scale,” Rex said.
           “Scale?” Tiller asked.
           “The Kyle Empathic Reception and Expression Scale,” I said. “It measures a