wasn’t strictly necessary.
He knew now that soon he’d have to find a place of his own.
Move out. It was unhealthy to live here. Even if his apartment at STORM was far
better than anything he could afford on his own in this part of town, one of
the best areas of Manhattan. He’d cope. Thanks to his great salary, he wouldn’t
starve anytime soon and he could easily afford something central and
comfortable. No cramped studio apartments for him.
Glancing over Faye’s bowed head, he took in the place he’d
made his own. No huge gamer screens or complex rigs here. He kept them
downstairs. Here he had a laptop, a couple of game consoles and some great,
comfortable furniture.
He had a large living room with a fantastic view, two bedrooms,
a bathroom and a half, kitchen and study. None of it was important, not really,
and nothing personal. In San Francisco, a firebomb had taken most of his
sentimental treasures, family pictures—keepsakes from the large house he’d
grown up in, all gone. He’d been glad to start from scratch in New York. It
seemed appropriate. New life, new belongings. He could leave it all behind and
not look back if he wanted to.
But not the woman in his arms. He’d have difficulty leaving
her behind. His stomach tightened with apprehension when he thought of it. He’d
never planned to put down roots this soon, had planned on a hundred years,
maybe two, of the carefree single life. But the knowledge, deep down, that he’d
found someone special only grew in certainty the more contact he had with her.
More than anything he wanted to go on with her and find out what they had.
In a while. After he’d helped Faye clear up this mess.
“Come and sit down.”
He led her to the sofa and for the first time she raised her
head and looked around. “It’s nice here.”
“You sound as if you expected a nerd’s paradise.”
She gave a shaky laugh and his heart lightened a little. “I
did, sort of. You do computer science, you’re a company geek and, in my
experience, they tend to live their work.”
“Not this one.” He wanted to tell her something about
himself that not many people knew, give her something special. “I had other
interests. I loved music, wanted the whole rock-and-roll dream. Be a star, play
for thousands of people. But I wasn’t good enough. I could sing okay, I could
play guitar okay, but no more than that. It’s a hobby, one I enjoy, but it’s a
good lesson, to learn that you can’t be a superstar at everything. I’m good at
computers though, more than good, so I stay with that.” He indicated his Martin
acoustic on its stand in the corner of the room. “Perhaps the love of music
saved me from total nerd-dom. The computer work comes too easily to me most of
the time.” He paused. “I have found something I want to work at now. That’s why
I applied to do a doctorate. It’s something I want to share with the world. Ann
says I can make a fortune, but I want to do it responsibly. If it works.”
She lifted her tearstained face to his. At least she wasn’t
crying anymore. He loved the way she curled into him and rested her head on his
shoulder. He wanted to keep her there. “I’m doing my dissertation on the
connection between telepathy and physical objects. I’m building a keyboard that
can be operated telepathically. A virtual keyboard.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody has telepathy, every Talent, every
mortal. Everyone can be taught to use it, if only a little. If a paraplegic
could learn how to communicate that way, he or she could use a computer. It’s
easy to do with telekinesis, but only Talents have that in enough strength and
control to operate a keyboard. If a disabled person could operate a keyboard,
it could be hooked up to any number of devices.”
She frowned. “A virtual keyboard?”
“You’ve seen them—those projected keyboards. The media is
always saying that Talents can help mortals by sharing, but not all gifts are
psi.”
“Wow.”
He knew now that soon he’d have to find a place of his own.
Move out. It was unhealthy to live here. Even if his apartment at STORM was far
better than anything he could afford on his own in this part of town, one of
the best areas of Manhattan. He’d cope. Thanks to his great salary, he wouldn’t
starve anytime soon and he could easily afford something central and
comfortable. No cramped studio apartments for him.
Glancing over Faye’s bowed head, he took in the place he’d
made his own. No huge gamer screens or complex rigs here. He kept them
downstairs. Here he had a laptop, a couple of game consoles and some great,
comfortable furniture.
He had a large living room with a fantastic view, two bedrooms,
a bathroom and a half, kitchen and study. None of it was important, not really,
and nothing personal. In San Francisco, a firebomb had taken most of his
sentimental treasures, family pictures—keepsakes from the large house he’d
grown up in, all gone. He’d been glad to start from scratch in New York. It
seemed appropriate. New life, new belongings. He could leave it all behind and
not look back if he wanted to.
But not the woman in his arms. He’d have difficulty leaving
her behind. His stomach tightened with apprehension when he thought of it. He’d
never planned to put down roots this soon, had planned on a hundred years,
maybe two, of the carefree single life. But the knowledge, deep down, that he’d
found someone special only grew in certainty the more contact he had with her.
More than anything he wanted to go on with her and find out what they had.
In a while. After he’d helped Faye clear up this mess.
“Come and sit down.”
He led her to the sofa and for the first time she raised her
head and looked around. “It’s nice here.”
“You sound as if you expected a nerd’s paradise.”
She gave a shaky laugh and his heart lightened a little. “I
did, sort of. You do computer science, you’re a company geek and, in my
experience, they tend to live their work.”
“Not this one.” He wanted to tell her something about
himself that not many people knew, give her something special. “I had other
interests. I loved music, wanted the whole rock-and-roll dream. Be a star, play
for thousands of people. But I wasn’t good enough. I could sing okay, I could
play guitar okay, but no more than that. It’s a hobby, one I enjoy, but it’s a
good lesson, to learn that you can’t be a superstar at everything. I’m good at
computers though, more than good, so I stay with that.” He indicated his Martin
acoustic on its stand in the corner of the room. “Perhaps the love of music
saved me from total nerd-dom. The computer work comes too easily to me most of
the time.” He paused. “I have found something I want to work at now. That’s why
I applied to do a doctorate. It’s something I want to share with the world. Ann
says I can make a fortune, but I want to do it responsibly. If it works.”
She lifted her tearstained face to his. At least she wasn’t
crying anymore. He loved the way she curled into him and rested her head on his
shoulder. He wanted to keep her there. “I’m doing my dissertation on the
connection between telepathy and physical objects. I’m building a keyboard that
can be operated telepathically. A virtual keyboard.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody has telepathy, every Talent, every
mortal. Everyone can be taught to use it, if only a little. If a paraplegic
could learn how to communicate that way, he or she could use a computer. It’s
easy to do with telekinesis, but only Talents have that in enough strength and
control to operate a keyboard. If a disabled person could operate a keyboard,
it could be hooked up to any number of devices.”
She frowned. “A virtual keyboard?”
“You’ve seen them—those projected keyboards. The media is
always saying that Talents can help mortals by sharing, but not all gifts are
psi.”
“Wow.”
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