To THE LAND OF THE ELECTRIC ANGEL: Hugo and Nebula Award Finalist Author (The Frontiers Saga) Read Online Free PDF
Author: William Rotsler
attraction." Voss smiled again. "But I want something that is definitely not a tourist attraction. More like an Egyptian tomb, quite hidden. I have the site already picked out. We'll laser the whole thing right into the living rock."
Blake nodded as if tomb design was something he did every day. Everyone has an ego, he thought. They leave foundations behind, nameplates on buildings, scholarships, trust funds to operate homes for wayward cats, stadiums, museums. Some commission art. Some want political power. Some are just egotists.
"I want the best art. Murals by Don Kains, a portrait by Paula Powers, a Coe assemblage from the trivia of my life. Sculpture by Rosenthal, Gieen, perhaps Mallinoux or Cordova. But nothing that needs, power – no sensatrons, no electronics, nothing that can be detected. Everything must be built to last."
Blake smiled. "Are you planning to take it with you into the afterlife?"
Voss looked at him a moment before he smiled, "Perhaps, Mr. Mason, perhaps." He laughed softly. "If the pharaohs could do it, why can't I?" He nodded to himself, then looked at Blake. "This project will make you rich and famous."
Sensing a bargaining point not to be lost, Blake matched his smile and said, "I am already rich and famous."
"No, man, rich and famous – not just rich and famous." He laughed lightly, with a kind of disturbing secret amusement, then sipped at his Benedictine.
"It sounds like a major project."
"It is. I'd like you to drop everything else," Voss said.
"I have contracts I must fulfill," Blake said. The impact of the project was only now beginning to get to him. A tomb as big as a pharaoh's, and to last how long?
"Then don't take on any new ones. When this is finished ... hell, long before ... you'll be able to command much higher fees."
Blake hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Just how much money are you prepared to spend, Mr. Voss?" He gestured as if to say it was crass to talk of such matters, but one must start somewhere.
"One hundred million. In Swiss francs, of course." Blake's chest was suddenly tight. "To start," Voss added casually. Now Blake's chest was much too tight for his heart. "I know these things take time and always cost more in the long run. I expect we'll change our minds about details as we go along. But I want it done right. The hundred million is only to get you thinking in the right area. I will go as high as 150,000,000 as long as the tomb is completed to my satisfaction."
"Mr. Voss..."
" 'Jean-Michel,' please. We will get to know one another, yes?" He laughed again, an odd, wry laugh, as if secretly amused. "We plan for my death, no?" At Blake's expression of shock he waved a genteel hand. "No, I'm not being morbid – only ego, my friend. A mark to make in the world, perhaps. I can afford it. You might say that after I am dead who will care...?"
"I..." For once Blake Mason was at a loss for words.
The Gardens of Babylon had been estimated at 300,000,000 European standard francs, but much of the labor had been done by the Shah's army, and the cost was borne by the treasury of a petroleum-rich nation. The pleasure dome projects were commercial ventures, with a return expected. But here was a private project, privately financed, an artistically oriented commission that was certain to bring him fame, if not glory.
"Uh ... Why did you choose me? There are other, bigger companies. Enzenbacher and Son. Quigley and Rausa..The Corwin Company. Environments, Unlimited–"
"No. You are the best. The best for what I want. This will be more than just a tomb, it will be a home. It must be built Mound a central chamber, and the specifications for that will be sent to you." Voss smiled. "You look puzzled. Yes, a home. In a mountain."
"A mountain?" Blake felt stupid.
"A mountain to hollow out. It's in the Rockies, and it is geologically stable; I've had it carefully tested. The only thing that might affect it is continental drift, but nothing can be done about that. We will
Blake nodded as if tomb design was something he did every day. Everyone has an ego, he thought. They leave foundations behind, nameplates on buildings, scholarships, trust funds to operate homes for wayward cats, stadiums, museums. Some commission art. Some want political power. Some are just egotists.
"I want the best art. Murals by Don Kains, a portrait by Paula Powers, a Coe assemblage from the trivia of my life. Sculpture by Rosenthal, Gieen, perhaps Mallinoux or Cordova. But nothing that needs, power – no sensatrons, no electronics, nothing that can be detected. Everything must be built to last."
Blake smiled. "Are you planning to take it with you into the afterlife?"
Voss looked at him a moment before he smiled, "Perhaps, Mr. Mason, perhaps." He laughed softly. "If the pharaohs could do it, why can't I?" He nodded to himself, then looked at Blake. "This project will make you rich and famous."
Sensing a bargaining point not to be lost, Blake matched his smile and said, "I am already rich and famous."
"No, man, rich and famous – not just rich and famous." He laughed lightly, with a kind of disturbing secret amusement, then sipped at his Benedictine.
"It sounds like a major project."
"It is. I'd like you to drop everything else," Voss said.
"I have contracts I must fulfill," Blake said. The impact of the project was only now beginning to get to him. A tomb as big as a pharaoh's, and to last how long?
"Then don't take on any new ones. When this is finished ... hell, long before ... you'll be able to command much higher fees."
Blake hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Just how much money are you prepared to spend, Mr. Voss?" He gestured as if to say it was crass to talk of such matters, but one must start somewhere.
"One hundred million. In Swiss francs, of course." Blake's chest was suddenly tight. "To start," Voss added casually. Now Blake's chest was much too tight for his heart. "I know these things take time and always cost more in the long run. I expect we'll change our minds about details as we go along. But I want it done right. The hundred million is only to get you thinking in the right area. I will go as high as 150,000,000 as long as the tomb is completed to my satisfaction."
"Mr. Voss..."
" 'Jean-Michel,' please. We will get to know one another, yes?" He laughed again, an odd, wry laugh, as if secretly amused. "We plan for my death, no?" At Blake's expression of shock he waved a genteel hand. "No, I'm not being morbid – only ego, my friend. A mark to make in the world, perhaps. I can afford it. You might say that after I am dead who will care...?"
"I..." For once Blake Mason was at a loss for words.
The Gardens of Babylon had been estimated at 300,000,000 European standard francs, but much of the labor had been done by the Shah's army, and the cost was borne by the treasury of a petroleum-rich nation. The pleasure dome projects were commercial ventures, with a return expected. But here was a private project, privately financed, an artistically oriented commission that was certain to bring him fame, if not glory.
"Uh ... Why did you choose me? There are other, bigger companies. Enzenbacher and Son. Quigley and Rausa..The Corwin Company. Environments, Unlimited–"
"No. You are the best. The best for what I want. This will be more than just a tomb, it will be a home. It must be built Mound a central chamber, and the specifications for that will be sent to you." Voss smiled. "You look puzzled. Yes, a home. In a mountain."
"A mountain?" Blake felt stupid.
"A mountain to hollow out. It's in the Rockies, and it is geologically stable; I've had it carefully tested. The only thing that might affect it is continental drift, but nothing can be done about that. We will
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