The Last Hour of Gann Read Online Free PDF Page A

pebbly bumps of her nipples and the hem of her panties and God alone knew what else.
    The conditions were bad enough; the company was worse. All around them were young couples hiss-fighting their way through the nerves, bickering teenagers, screaming babies, and every shade of human misery in-between. Adding to the fun was Nicci, who kept insisting it wasn’t too late yet, they could still go back and maybe talk to the super, just talk to him, Amber, and maybe get their old apartment back and they could make it work, they really could. By the time she reached the terminal doors and bared her face to the gust of heated air blowing down from the overhead fans, Amber was ready to tell her to go wherever the hell she wanted to as long as she shut up when she did it. And that made her feel sick all over, because she knew her sister’s fear wasn’t only genuine, it was normal. They were doing something that had never been done, had never even been tested in any real practical way. Fear was a perfectly reasonable reaction, but it still didn’t change the fact that they were homeless, jobless and alone. Whining about it was not going to change anything.
    They made their way back and forth through the ropes of the queue holding hands. Manifestors walked happily up and down beside them, offering hot coffee and smiles and sedatives for those who needed them. A young mother not far from Amber abruptly ducked out of line with her small son, only to be met by three Manifestors who politely but firmly reminded her of the contract she had signed, the amenities she had already accepted, and the criminal charges awaiting her if she left. The mother began to cry, the son joined in, and both were ushered swiftly away. Not out the door, Amber noticed, but deeper into the terminal. They did not come back. Maybe Nicci was watching too; she stopped asking to go home, but the hand that gripped Amber’s trembled the closer they got to the head of the line.
    Halfway th ere, they were met by a registrar—not one of the skyport’s, a Manifestor—pushing a cart loaded with baskets of flat and featureless metal bracelets. She was accompanied by an honest-to-God Fleetman. Seeing him in his plain military uniform was, even more than the queue or the rain or the space shuttle itself on the launching platform out the window, the slapping hand of reality for Amber. The registrar had to repeat herself before she could bring herself back from that.
    “I’m sorry?” she stammered, wrenching her eyes off the Fleetman.
    “I need your print, please?” The registrar lifted her scanner higher.
    Amber offered her thumb. The scanning plate was warm and a little slippery. Quite a few sweaty hands in the line ahead of her, she supposed.
    “Amber Katherine Bierce, do you accept the terms of the contract you have signed with the entity identified as the Manifest Destiny Society and revoke all other rights save those guaranteed you in the aforementioned contract until such time as the contract has elapsed?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you understand that by agreeing to these terms, you have become a member of the Manifest Destiny Society and a civilian of the planet identified as Plymouth, subject to all laws of that entity and that planet, both existing and to be determined, until such time as your contract has elapsed?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you understand that when this document is finalized, you will not be permitted to renege on its terms and any attempt to renege on its terms will be prosecuted on three felony charges of theft, fraud and conspiracy to defraud, carrying no less a sentence than fifteen years in prison and a fine of no less than two million dollars, and that failure to pay that fine may carry its own liability?”
    Nicci trembled.
    “Yes,” said Amber.
    “Great!” The registrar turned to let the Fleetman, who was apparently doing the witnessing, tap at the scanning screen. The registrar played with it some more, then printed out a plastine label.