Evolution

Watts grinned lopsidedly. “No, Brady, I can see that. What I don’t see is why. This isn’t your ordinary graffiti. This is someone who’s had serious training in art. This took time.

Look at the way they shaded Mare Imbrium to give depth to Alan’s eye.”

“But the craters are all wrong,” Brady complained.

Watts shrugged, unconcerned. “Call it artistic license. Whoever did this needed to move things around a bit to make it look more like Alan. It helps get the point across.”

“It’s still graffiti.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and so were the other two. I’m not an art critic, but it looks like it’s probably the same artist.”

“But, shouldn’t we be trying to arrest them or something?”

“On what charge? The walls belong to the city, and Crisium doesn’t have a statute against graffiti.” He turned to leave.

“Shouldn’t we remove it?” Brady asked again.

Watts glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. “Nah, leave it. I kinda like it.”

He walked away, leaving the rookie staring, baffled, at his back.

Lewis Cantner stormed into Alan Lister’s office. He glared sideways at Anne’s image hovering next to him.

“… And I didn’t get the lock thrown in time to stop him,” she was saying. Her face puckered at the sight of Cantner. “Well, I see he’s there now. I’m sure that he’ll tell you all about it.” Her image winked out.

Cantner snorted angrily at the air where Anne’s face had been. “Why can’t you have a regular secretary like everyone else? What good is talking to a projection?”

“Anne is a regular secretary. She just chooses to work from home. And except for rude people who barge in without appointments, the arrangement usually works very well,” Alan added, unable to resist the barb.

“Rude?” Cantner demanded. “You have the gall to call me rude? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Of course, I don’t suppose rude is a strong enough word to describe someone like you. You just flat out don’t care about anyone who doesn’t fit your image of some kind of high and mighty Lunarian citizen. Somebody who can—”

Anne’s image popped back into existence. “Alan, should I have Lewis removed?”

Cantner’s head swiveled. “Get out of here, you meddlesome bitch!” he bellowed.

Anne’s eyes narrowed. Her voice became dangerously quiet and controlled. “Lewis, I’ve never liked you, but I was always willing to tolerate you. But I’ve got news, fella. You just made yourself an enemy.” She vanished.

Cantner snarled. “Jesus! You think you’re the greatest, don’t you? Sit here in your little office and run peoples’ lives for them. Well, maybe some people don’t mind, but I’m here to tell you I do.”

Alan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his mental balance. “Lewis, should I assume that you came here to tell me something? Can you do so in plain English? You’re yelling so loud I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Smartass,” Cantner grumbled, but he moderated his tone somewhat. “I just came from closing the doors to my restaurant. I’m out of business and it’s your fault.”

Alan nodded slowly. “I see. And, of course, that means you’ll have to resign as president of the Crisium Business Group, since they don’t have members who aren’t active businessmen or women. Especially the president.”

Cantner glared at him in silence.

“So you’re hurt and angry because you’re losing a position of power, and you’re here to take it out on me.” Alan leaned back in his seat, and gazed at Cantner contemplatively. “Seems to me I recall predicting that you’d have trouble along these lines, Lewis. Your restaurant never was as good as your competitors’. If everyone else felt that way, then you were bound to go out of business sooner or later. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve lasted this long.”

“Well, of course I went out of business, Lister. You made a point of forcing me out. You never did like me.” “Lewis, this is not the first time you’ve accused me of having some kind of personal vendetta against you. I’m only going to say this one more time, so hear me well—I did nothing, repeat nothing, to force you out of business. You brought it upon yourself. Simply put, the food served in your restaurant wasn’t up to snuff.”

“Says who? Your opinion doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

Alan gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Tell you what. We don’t live in the twenty-first century for nothing. Have you got the guts to put it to a vote? We’ll put it out on the city network for discussion. Question—was the food good or not? I’ll stand back. We’ll let someone else write it up and supervise the tally.”

“Wouldn’t prove a thing,” Cantner grumped, arms folded.

Alan looked surprised. “The citizens of Crisium, whether individually or in groups, were the people who decided whether or not to eat at your restaurant, Lewis. If they’ve got something to say about the situation, let them.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell you what, I’ll go you one better. If you get, let’s make it, 75 percent of the vote in favor, I will spot you the money to reopen out of my own pocket.”