The John Varley Reader Read Online Free PDF

Lunar Free State in the year 76 O.E. They had not been used in over a century. They were worth a fortune to a collector.
    â€œLester,” I said, slowly, “these are worth more than you probably realize. I could sell them in King City for . . .”
    He cackled. “Good man. I know what them bills is worth. I’m decrepit, but I ain’t senile. They’re worth thousands to one what wants ’em, but they’re worthless to me. Except for one thing. They’re a damn good test for findin’ an honest man. They let me know if somebody’d take advantage of a sick, senile ol’ hermit like me. Pardon me, son, but I had you pegged for a liar when you come in here. I was wrong. So you keep the bills. Otherwise, I’d a took ’em back.”
    He threw something on the floor in front of us, something he’d had in his hand and I hadn’t even seen. It was a gun. I had never seen one.
    Halo picked it up, gingerly, but I didn’t want to touch it. This old Lester character seemed a lot less funny to me now. We were quiet.
    â€œNow I’ve gone and scared you,” he said. “I guess I’ve forgot all my manners. And I’ve forgot how you folks live on the other side.” He picked up the gun and opened it. The charge chamber was empty. “But you wouldn’t of knowed it, would you? Anyways, I’m not a killer. I just pick my friends real careful. Can I make up the fright I’ve caused you by inviting you to dinner? I haven’t had any guests for ten years.”
    We told him we’d just eaten, and he asked if we could stay and just talk for a while. He seemed awfully eager. We said okay.
    â€œYou want some clothes? I don’t expect you figured on visiting when you come here.”
    â€œWhatever your custom is,” Halo said, diplomatically.
    â€œI got no customs,” he said, with a toothless grin. “If you don’t feel funny naked, it ain’t no business of mine. Do as you please, I say.” It was a stock phrase with him.
    So we lay on the grass, and he got some very strong, clear liquor and poured us all drinks.
    â€œMoonshine,” he laughed. “The genuine article. I make it myself. Best liquor on the Nearside.”
    We talked, and we drank.
    Before I got too drunk to remember anything, a few interesting facts emerged about old Lester. For one thing, he really was old. He said he was two hundred and fifty-seven, and he was Earthborn. He had come to the moon when he was twenty-eight, several years before the Invasion.
    I know several people in that age range, though none quite that old. Carnival’s great-grandmother is two twenty-one, but she’s moonborn, and doesn’t remember the Invasion. There’s virtually nothing left of the flesh she was born with. She’s transferred her memories to a new brain twice.
    I was prepared to believe that old Lester had gone a long time without medical care, but I couldn’t accept what he told us at first. He said that, barring one new heart eighty years ago, he was unreconstructed since his birth! I’m young and naive—I freely admit it now—but I couldn’t swallow that. But I believed it eventually, and I believe it now.
    He had a million stories to tell, all of them at least eighty years old because that’s how long he had been a hermit. He had stories of Earth, and of the early years on the moon. He told us about the hard years after the Invasion. Everyone who lived through that has a story to tell. I drew a blank before the evening was over, and the only thing I remember clearly is the three of us standing in a circle, arms around each other, singing a song old Lester had taught us. We swayed against each other and bumped foreheads and broke up laughing. I remember his hand resting on my shoulder. It was hard as rock.
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The next day Halo became Florence Nightingale and nursed old Lester back to life. She was as firm as any