| Home | Contact Us | Subscription Rates | Current Issue | Links | Forum |
Dirty Little Cowards: William Sanders                                       Subscriptio
                                                                            ns
   The client said, "Should I go on down there and, uh, get
   undressed?"
                                                                            If you enjoyed
                                                                            this sample and
   "You might want to wait," Allison told him. "They’re not quite
                                                                            want to read
   ready yet."
                                                                            more, Asimov's
   "All right," the client said. "Whatever you say."                        Science Fiction
                                                                            offers you
   "It’s just that, you might have noticed, it’s pretty cool in here,"      another way to
   Allison said. "Have to keep it that way. The equipment, you know."       subscribe to our
                                                                            print magazine.
   "Yes." The client nodded. "It is a little chilly."
                                                                            We have a
                                                                            secure server
   Actually there was a visible sheen of sweat on his face, but that
                                                                            which will allow
   almost certainly had nothing to do with the temperature.
                                                                            you to order a
                                                                            subscription
   "They’ll let us know when it’s time," Allison assured him. "Won’t
                                                                            online. There,
   be long now."
                                                                            you can order a
   At the other end of the main control console, the man named Burns        subscription by
   silently damned Allison for a mealy-mouthed fool. It wasn’t going        providing us with
   to hurt this overprivileged jackoff to stand around the tank room        your name,
   naked and shivering for a few extra minutes. Now he’d be hanging         address and
   out in here, asking questions and generally being a pain in the ass,
                                                                            credit card
   for that much longer. Trust Allison, though, to suck up to the
                                                                            information.
   clients.
                                                                            Subscribe Now
   "I have to admit I’m a little nervous," the client admitted in a voice
   that suggested in fact he was a lot nervous. He rubbed his hands
                                                                            Copyright
   together and then shoved them deep into the pockets of his
   expensive-looking gray suit.
                                                                            "Dirty Little
                                                                            Cowards" by
   He was a medium-sized man, a little on the short side; Burns,
                                                                            William
   remembering the TV and netzine shots of a decade or so ago, had
   thought he’d be bigger. But then the pictures hadn’t been very           Sanders,
   clear, or given much time, the news people no doubt figuring that        copyright ©
   the public wasn’t interested in yet another incomprehensible             1999 by William
   financial scandal. Considering how he’d gotten away with it, they        Sanders, used
   must have been right.                                                    by permission of
                                                                            the author.
   He looked no older than thirty-five or forty, though Burns knew he
   had to be well past that bracket. His thick dark wavy hair showed
   no gray, and his wide evenly tanned face was without lines or
   wrinkles. That didn’t mean anything, though. Nowadays people
   wore the faces and bodies they could afford.

   And it went without saying that this one could afford plenty;
   otherwise he wouldn’t be here. There were very few people in the
   country who could pay for a private timetap, even the ordinary
   passive–and legal–variety. As for the kind of specialized service
   Mr. Tedesco offered his clients . . .

   The door from the hallway slid open and a stocky dark-faced man,
   dressed in white coveralls, stepped into the control room.
   "Devereaux," Allison greeted him. "I believe you’ve met–"

   "Yeah." Devereaux nodded perfunctorily in the client’s direction
   without really looking at him. "They in yet?" he asked Burns.

   Burns shook his head. "Should be any minute."

   Almost immediately the speaker on the wall said, "Control, this is
   Projection. We have a tap."

   "Ah," Allison said. "Here we go."

   He touched a couple of keys. One of the two big viewscreens
   mounted above the console came to blurry black-and-gray life,
          To contact us about editorial matters , send an email to Asimov's SF.
     Questions regarding subscriptions should be sent to our subscription address.
If you find any Web site errors, typos or other stuff worth mentioning, please send it to
                               webmaster@asimovs.com.
                 Copyright © 1999 Asimov's SF All Rights Reserved Worldwide