Children of a Dead Earth Book One by Patrick S Tomlinson Read Free Book Online Page B

himself another little cup of sake and held it up in a mock toast. “I’m about to be obsolete, my dear. Again.”
    â€œCan you stop that?”
    â€œStop what?”
    â€œStop looking backwards like all your best days are behind you. The most important moment in human history is about to happen and you’re pouting about not playing Zero anymore. Isn’t there anything you’re looking forward to once we land?”
    Benson could see where her train of thought was headed and tried to stop it before it built up steam. “No, that’s not it at all.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo. Well, maybe a little. I’ve always felt like this job was a sort of retirement gift. But really, Conservation Codes? Declared lovers? Licensed babies? The new world isn’t going to need people like us enforcing any of that nonsense.”
    Theresa leaned back in her chair and hid an admiring smile behind a hand. “You really believe that, don’t you? Even after dealing with people at their worst every day for years, you still believe in their fundamental decency. You’re a strangely stubborn optimist, Bryan Benson.”
    â€œYou disagree?”
    â€œOf course. The old rules will become extinct, but a whole new set will have to take their place. People will run to find the new boundaries as fast as they can. Somebody is going to have to be ready to jerk their chains when they finally reach them.” She held up her own little cup. “That’s going to be us, sweetie.”
    â€œFunny, you’re not the first person today to–”
    
    â€œChrist, Devorah. What did I say about ringing first?” Benson was startled enough that he both said it aloud and into his plant interface.
    
    â€œAren’t you Jewish?”
    
    â€œReally?” Theresa scolded. “Hang up, Bryan. We’re having dinner.”
    Benson apologetically held up his hands. Theresa grabbed a segment of his perch roll with her chopsticks and angrily popped it into her mouth.
    â€œI’m at dinner. A rather expensive one.”
    
     Benson switched back to just the plant.
    
    
    
    
    
     Benson cut the link before she could inquire any further, then looked up at Theresa, who had moved on to his catfish roll.
    â€œWhat’s so important it can’t wait until the end of our romantic dinner?” Theresa asked.
    â€œOur dinner? You seem to be the only one eating.”
    â€œLucky you. You know what they say about a girl with an appetite.”
    â€œThat they’re expensive dates?”
    â€œI’m worth every red cent,” Theresa said confidently.
    â€œThat you are.” Benson admired her plunging neckline for a moment before he leaned in and pitched his voice lower. “The painting from Laraby’s apartment is real.”
    Theresa put down her chopsticks and rested on her elbows with a strangely hungry look in her eyes. “What’s it worth?”
    â€œIncalculable.”
    â€œWell now, that’s motive in my book.”
    Benson nodded. “Mine too, but for who? We don’t have any suspects yet.”
    A sly smirk tugged at Theresa’s lips. “The museum gets to keep the painting now that