By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 7: Investing Is Easier Than You Think
The tea and scones were served on a table in the Major’s office, by a young white slappie who did his work deftly and silently. I always hate it when waiters insist on talking with you. Once they know what you want, they should bring it and go away. But this slappie had been well trained.
The Major took some time to discuss the possibility of what he called “a business connection”—the investment idea again—and presented me with a colorful brochure entitled “The Profits of Penology.” I complimented its appearance and said that I would welcome the opportunity to obtain more information. He complemented my discernment and we exchanged cards.
That part was a bore, but on the whole it was a pleasant conversation. The curtains were drawn back, revealing the pretty vines, hung with blossoms, that trailed around the bars outside the window. Rays of sunlight warmed the room, awakening the incandescent blue of the Major’s uniform, turning the slappie’s necklace into a flash of silver and his short blond hair into a cap of gold. It was good to see slappies in short sleeves again. This one had the slightest, most delicate covering of hair on his arms . . . . If this was life on St. Bevons, maybe it was worth an investment.