The Human Division #9: The Observers Read Online Free PDF

thought you knew that by now.”
    “I do,” Wilson said. “Sorry.”
    “You’re dismissed, Wilson,” Abumwe said. “The grown-ups need to talk in private.” She turned to Coloma and Stone. Wilson took the hint and left.
    Lowen was waiting in the corridor for him.
    “You’re supposed to be asleep,” Wilson said.
    “I wanted to apologize to you,” Lowen said. “I’m pretty sure what I said in there about spending time with you came out wrong.”
    “That part where you said that you were spending time with me on Liu’s orders,” Wilson said.
    “Yeah, that,” Lowen said.
    “Would it make you feel better to know that my boss told me to spend time with you?” Wilson said.
    “Not really,” Lowen said.
    “I won’t admit it to you, then,” Wilson said. “At least not until you’ve had time to collect yourself.”
    “Thanks,” Lowen said, wryly.
    Wilson reached out and touched Lowen’s arm in sympathy. “Okay, seriously,” he said. “How are you?”
    “Oh, you know,” Lowen said. “My boss is dead and he was a really nice man, and tomorrow I have to cut into him to see if someone murdered him. I’m just great .”
    “Come on,” Wilson said, and put his arm around her. “I’ll walk you back to your berth.”
    “Did your boss tell you to do that?” Lowen asked, jokingly.
    “No,” Wilson said, seriously. “This one’s on me.”

    Abumwe’s supreme irritation, first at the disposition of the trade negotiations at the end of the first day, and then at the death of Liu Cong and the possible implication thereof, was evident in the second day of negotiations. Abumwe began by tearing Doodoodo a new one, in as brilliant a show of venomous politeness as Wilson had ever seen in his life. Doodoodo and his fellow negotiators actually began to cringe, in the Burfinor fashion, which Wilson decided was more of a scrotal-like contraction than anything else.
    Watching the ambassador do her work, and doing it with something approaching vengeful joy, Wilson realized his long-held wish that Abumwe would actually relax from time to time was clearly in error. This was a person who operated best and most efficiently when she was truly and genuinely pissed off; wishing for her to mellow out was like wishing an alpha predator would switch to grains. It was missing the point.
    Wilson’s BrainPal pinged, internally and unseen by the others in the negotiating parties. It was Lowen. Can you talk? the message said.
    No, but you can, Wilson sent. You’re coming through my BrainPal. No one else will be bothered .
    Hold on, switching to voice, Lowen sent, and then her voice came through. “I think we have a big problem,” she said.
    Define “problem,” Wilson sent.
    “We’ve finished the autopsy,” Lowen sent. “Physically there was nothing wrong with Cong. Everything looked healthy and as close to perfect as a man his age could be. There are no ruptures or aneurysms, no organ damage or scarring. Nothing. There is no reason he should be dead.”
    That indicates foul play to you? Wilson sent.
    “Yes,” Lowen said. “And there’s another thing, which is the reason I’m talking to you. I took some of his blood for testing and I’m seeing a lot of anomalies in it. There’s a concentration of foreign particles in it that I haven’t seen before.”
    Poison compounds? Wilson asked.
    “I don’t think so,” Lowen said.
    Have you shown them to Stone? Wilson asked.
    “Not yet,” Lowen said. “I thought you actually might be more help for this. Can you receive images?”
    Sure, Wilson sent.
    “Okay, sending now,” Lowen said. A notice of a received image flashed in Wilson’s peripheral vision; he pulled it up.
    It’s blood cells, Wilson sent.
    “It’s not just blood cells,” Lowen said.
    Wilson paid closer attention and saw specks amid the cells. He zoomed in. The specks gained in size and detail. Wilson frowned and called up a separate image and compared the two.
    They look like SmartBlood nanobots,