Read Brightsuit MacBear for Free Online

follow wherever the facts led him. Without getting up, he keyed his implant to the first infochannel it locked onto, the electronic equivalent of the newspaper Captain Forsyth had been reading in the park. As usual, he selected a written format, rather than talking-heads-with-pictures. It was easier to get the unvarnished truth that way without the interpretive “assistance” of waggled eyebrows or suggestive tones of voice.
    In moments, the words began crawling past his eyes, hanging in the air a few inches before his face.
A spokesbeing for Griswold’s Security told Infopeek this morning he was unable to explain why a thief, employing molecular interpenetration programs normally used by the ship’s transport system, broke into a seventh level museum last night, apparently for no other reason than stealing a worthless, possibly dangerous memento of a decade-old scientific experiment which culminated in two deaths.
“Some folks just have ghoulish interests, I guess,” Captain Burris Griswold asserted, claiming the break-in at Spoonbender’s Museum of Scientific Curiosities, 22-24 Ponsie Street, Sector 270, was the first crime of its kind in the eighteen years he has been a security subcontractor aboard Tom Edison Maru. Expressing doubt the thief would ever be caught, he said there is “only so much sapient beings can do” and, in his words, “Griswold’s is a property-protecting company, not in the business of collecting people, not even crooks.”
Contacted at home, museum owner A. Hamilton Spoonbender would not respond to questions. Infopeek has learned that the stolen object was an experimental smartsuit, centerpiece of the museum’s collection, originally developed by Laporte Paratronics, Ltd. and considered a failure after two researchers were killed during its testing.
For more Infopeek info on the Spoonbender Museum, Griswold’s Security, crime aboard Tom Edison Maru , or the experimental smartsuit’s tragic history, request Sidebar Series 2335. An additional 50 gr. AG charge will be added to the accounts of nonsubscribers.
    A handful of stillpix had been published with the story: a holo of the front of Spoonbender’s Museum (to Berdan it looked more like the pawnshop it also claimed to be); a candid three-dimensional portrait of Captain Burris Griswold, a tough-looking character whose expression sent a shiver down the boy’s spine; one of A. Hamilton Spoonbender himself, whose flamboyant moustache and eyebrows curled up on the ends; and a picture of the smartsuit itself, still in its tall, transparent display case—about the same size as his grandfather’s crate—looking as if it had been fabricated out of mirror-polished titanium or chromium rather than the plain, rubbery gray synthetic to be expected.
    Berdan didn’t have fifty silver grains to summon up the sidebars which might have told him more. Some services aboard Tom Edison Maru came free, as part of a crewbeing’s or resident shareholder’s benefits. Others had to be paid for. News service, whether it was worth it or not, all but the sketchiest front page headline sort of stuff he’d just accessed, was one of the latter.
    Come to think of it, now that his grandfather had departed, he wasn’t certain how much money he had. An instant, inward glance at the family “checkbook”—Berdan was in charge of paying bills, also buying groceries and household supplies—told him the worst: Dalmeon Geanar had departed after withdrawing every last silver ounce in their account. The rent on their apartment hadn’t been paid yet this month, nor any of the utilities. Berdan was on his own, with what he earned at Mr. Meep’s—not payable until next week and not a tenth of what he needed—to tide him over until his grandfather came back.
    If he came back.
    As he crouched, half in and half out of the old man’s closet, both knees beginning to hurt, both legs beginning to fall asleep with the loss of circulation, it was neither physical pain nor