Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love (18 page)

The magna ride took thirty minutes each way
and he expected the meeting to last an hour or so; Evans would have
information to share in addition to reviewing Edgar's ideas. While
waiting on the eggs, Edgar instructed the HC to do a sweep for any
unauthorized comm taps. The computer was done before the eggs;
result: no taps. Edgar knew this meant only that there were no
simple taps. Plating the eggs and refilling his coffee, Edgar
decided he'd done what he could in the area of comm sweeps and
would leave the rest to Evans.

He settled at his desk, taking a moment to
soak in the scenery. It was an absolutely beautiful day, bright and
sunny; so very different from the darkness into which he'd stared
last evening. As it usually did, the cheery weather brightened
Edgar's mood. He dug into the eggs and started his daily review of
the news feeds. As an afterthought, he asked the HC to run a search
on stories involving Serina Jarvis; however, none appeared in the
feeds.

It was a slow news day, apparently; the best
story was the weather. Today's forecast was sun and mid-seventies,
with light breezes. He reined in a flash of annoyance at not being
able to run today as the weather was perfect for it. At least he'd
be outdoors for a part of the day when he left to see the
barrister. He got up, stretched and put his dishes in the 'washer.
Glancing at the time, he found that if he got moving, he could
still catch the 11:30 a.m. magna to Navea. Satisfied with that
plan, he headed for the shower.

The weatherman was spot on in his forecast
and Edgar loved the gentle breeze in his hair as he walked to
Altair Station. He'd chosen a navy pair of slacks and a pale pink
button-down shirt for his visit to Evans. He rolled the sleeves up
to three-quarters length and was perfectly comfortable. The lunch
crowd was just starting to flow around the station as he arrived.
He kept a lookout for unusual behavior of the dangerous sort and
was pleased when none appeared.

The train arrived on time, as usual, and
Edgar boarded. He was one of four passengers in the car and he
chose a seat at the rear which allowed him to keep an eye on the
other three people, two men and a woman, who staggered their
seating in the middle and front of the magna car. He looked them
over without being obvious; the woman was dressed in typical office
attire, skirt and matching jacket over a coordinated blouse. From
Evans' description of Jarvis, this woman appeared to be about twice
Jarvis' age. Nonetheless, it paid to be careful; she could be an
accomplice, after all.

He knew it was unlikely that he was in any
danger on the magna; this was an unannounced and highly irregular
trip. He met with Evans once a year to review the trust that funded
him this lifetime; other than that, all of their business was
conducted remotely. If Serina Jarvis had him under surveillance,
this trip would confuse her; the routine visit to Evans typically
occurred at the end of the year, not mid-way through it.

The two men were equally non-threatening;
one, in an ill-fitting suit, was preoccupied with a reading pad and
the other appeared higher than Edgar's twenty-first floor
apartment. He simply stared out the window, occasionally nodding
off. Still, Edgar stayed vigilant; he'd learned over time that
unpleasant surprises were often contained in the most
harmless-looking packages. Soon, the magna pulled away from Altair
Station and began the half hour non-stop journey to Navea. Altair
was the closet suburb of the sprawling city and thus, the last
station on the line before it.

Navea was a beautiful city, but it was too
crowded for Edgar's taste. That and it was much more impersonal
than Altair. He lived there for a year on his move to the west
coast and that turned out to be 335 days too many. Navea lacked the
charm of the 'burbs; there were no friendlies like Tazz and Trina
or Carmen. The pace was too fast to enable such pleasant exchanges.
After his last lifetime, spent in New York City, he'd had enough of
that lifestyle. Even so, he spent his first year of this lifetime
in Navea; he always went for a big, impersonal city when beginning
a new life. It tended to be easier because he could familiarize
himself with the area and establish himself without too many
questions.

During that first year, he'd visited the
nearby suburbs and settled on Altair. In the end, it was Gridley
Park that made up his mind, not only on new city but on new home.
He'd fallen in love with the Park and had to live where he had a
great view of it. Ironically, he'd looked at Maddox' building
first, but preferred the ambiance of Highland House.

The view on the way to Navea was pretty;
fields of various crops, vineyards, a few small towns. It was hard
to see it in much detail, though; once the magna was outside Altair
city limits, it accelerated to maximum speed, well over two hundred
miles per hour. Even so, it was a scenic route and a pleasant
change. As the magna progressed on its journey, Edgar noticed that
two of his travelling companions had nodded off; the young puffer
and the woman were sound asleep. The other man was still engrossed
in his book, though every now and again, he seemed to jump,
starting himself awake. Edgar figured the man would join the other
passengers in slumber within the next five minutes; that would
leave Edgar about fifteen minutes as the car's only conscious
rider.

He hoped Evans wasn't seeing another client;
unfortunately, given his self-imposed comm silence, he hadn't been
able to let the man know he was coming. He knew Evans would likely
be in the office as he didn't typically make court appearances. His
client list was specialized, filled with the wealthy like Edgar.
The barrister had appeared on behalf of Edgar once and Edgar found
him to be as impressive in the courtroom as he was out of it.

If, by some chance, Evan was out, Edgar would
ask his assistant to call the man. Evans had only three clients for
whom he would drop everything; of those three, Edgar topped the
list. It was a privilege Edgar made certain never to abuse; today,
however, he'd use it if necessary. Frivolous claims didn't warrant
interrupting Evans, but a potentially psychotic stalker did. Edgar
hoped, not for the first time, that Jarvis was just feeling the
sting of a failed attempt at wealth and disappeared to avoid the
harsh life that awaited her on Tyranus 6. However, he was far too
pragmatic to put much faith in that possibility. One of the many
lessons he'd learned over centuries of life was to hope for the
best, but plan for the worst.

It would be a wonderful surprise if Jarvis
turned out to be a coward, unwilling to live the colony life,
preferring instead to stay on Earth in hiding. Of course, she
wasn't running from the actual authorities, which was virtually
impossible these days. If running, she was trying to avoid Evans
and the bank; frankly, Edgar would rather try the former than the
latter. He chuckled quietly, wondering at Evans' abilities; for a
representative of the law, he certainly had a questionable private
life. Of course, this wasn't all that uncommon in the twen-cen, but
such things were much harder to hide in the 2-4. Just as he had
areas of his life into which he didn't want Evans prying, he asked
very few questions regarding his barrister's private activities.
Quid pro quo, the best way to go, Edgar thought as the magna began
to slow to city speed.

Not long after, the magna arrived at Bentley
Station in Navea's southeastern section. It was a four-block walk
from the station to Evans' office. The station and sidewalks were
busy, the high-noon lunch crowd in full force. Most of the crowd
was dressed in business attire, nice suits and polished shoes. As a
consummate people watcher, Edgar found himself missing the variety
of people found in Altair.

The rare Plezzer might be found in this
section of Navea, likely popping in to party with a high-powered
business person looking for a little afternoon delight. This was
the corporate power center of the city: law firms, consultants,
real estate moguls and the like. The only public places of business
were the corner coffee shops and some expensive restaurants used to
entertain clients. No shopping district, just those places needed
to fuel the executive dealings for which the section was known.

He wasn't fond of large crowds even if they
were mostly suits and completely uninterested in someone so
casually-dressed. If anything, the suits probably thought he was
exactly what he was: some lucky lawyer's rich client. In a way,
that made him safer here than in Altair; not only were the suits
unlikely to bother him, if any one did cause him any trouble, the
suits would help. Never mind that it wasn't based on good
Samaritanship but rather on a selfish desire to garner a new client
by being a hero, the result was the same.

As expected, there was no trouble on the walk
through the monochromatic, bland crowd; Edgar arrived at Evans'
office with no more than a few hastily-mumbled apologies for
unintentional bumps. He paused in front of the office tower,
another monochromatic, bland building virtually indistinguishable
from the rest. Edgar found the place only because he knew the
address, not because of any unique landmarks.

The lobby, too, was the standard-issue
corporate sameness; black leather seating with shiny chrome
accents, marble floors, expensive paintings on the walls, and the
requisite mini-palms strategically placed throughout. Edgar swerved
around a few clusters of suits engaged in impromptu meetings and
approached the busy reception desk. It was staffed by four
nearly-identically dressed individuals; two handling the comm
system and two fielding visitors.

Edgar stood in line, waiting to check in,
before boarding one of the two dozen elevators. Finally, it was his
turn and he was greeted by a gender-neutral individual, one of the
many self-identified asexuals. The receptionist greeted him
professionally and Edgar announced his intentions. The receptionist
took his ID to check him into the building's security system; even
after the verbal exchange of the other necessary information, Edgar
was no closer to identifying the receptionist's gender. The fact
that he was trying was something he kept to himself; it was a sign
that he wasn't really as young as he appeared.

No one of his apparent generation would
publicly question such a thing, the assumption being simply that
the person in question was an asexual; this accounted for gender as
well as orientation. He honestly wondered if people did as he was
doing, but just kept it to themselves. Ultimately, it didn't
matter; it was a private issue. Besides, even if only for romantic
emotional companionship, no asexual would consent to go out with
anyone but another asexual. The general consensus being that
non-asexuals would eventually want sex, an idea that was repugnant
to the asexual.

In truth, when asexuals did marry, based on a
purely emotional and intellectual bond, reproduction was handled
via in vitro fertilization. Assuming one of the couple had the
necessary plumbing that one would be the partner to carry the
pregnancy to term; if not, a surrogate was hired. It was somewhat
confusing to a twen-cen mind at first, Edgar had to admit. The
proper gender identification was asexual, but those who so
identified actually did have traditional male and female
reproductive organs. Even now, Edgar didn't spend a lot of time
contemplating it, preferring instead to simply accept it. It had
long been proven that asexuality was no more a conscious choice
than was hetero- or homosexuality.

The receptionist handed his ID back over the
counter and directed him to a private elevator behind and to the
left of the reception desk. "That must be new," he commented.

"Yes, sir," came the reply. "The firms on the
top two floors had it installed earlier this year." The
receptionist turned to help the next person in line.

He nodded and went to the elevator; palming
the door pad promptly opened the private lift. The car was as
well-appointed as the lobby only here it was old wood, brass and a
plush forest-green carpet that would've made Ralph Lauren drool. He
stepped aboard and marveled at the amount of padding under the
carpet; walking on a cloud couldn't be this soft. The door slid
shut and a soft mechanical voice asked, "Palmer, De Lane or Smith,
Evans?"

"Evans, please," Edgar answered and the
elevator began moving. Seconds later, the door slid open on a lobby
that could only be described as opulent. Obviously, Evans and
Smith, the top floor's joint tenants, decided on some serious
upgrades recently. The entire lobby matched the elevator, save the
floor which was a deep green marble, polished to the point of
reflectivity. Edgar nodded approvingly, familiar with the cost of
such a set-up; he knew he could afford it several times over, but
was impressed that Evans and Smith, the other barrister on this
floor, could do so, even jointly.

He stepped forward onto the mirror-like
marble and approached the reception station. This one was staffed
by only one person, a man whose appearance was as crisp and
professional as the lobby itself. The man looked up immediately
upon Edgar entering the lobby. "Hello sir, I'm James; may I be of
assistance?" the man said in a perfect British accent.

"Yes, James, you may," Edgar replied. "My
name is Edgar Aeternum and I need to see Barrister Evans."

"Very well, sir," James checked a screen on
his desk and looked up at Edgar, the proper blend of suspicion and
apology. "I don't see you on today's appointments."

Edgar smiled, understanding the man's
confusion. "That's because I'm not on the books for today. It's a
matter of urgency and Barrister Evans will see me." He decided to
play it low-key; James must either be a temp or very new, because
Evans typically made it a point to inform his staff of Edgar's
status.