Though the spring weather was warm, Abner Garr pulled the collar of his coat up as he walked past the entrance to the alley. He paused, turning a full circle to make sure no one he knew just happened to be on the bad side of town this afternoon. If he saw someone, he’d just walk away. So easy to do: just walk away. He should just walk away now, even if no one was there.
He ducked into the alleyway. It reeked of stale vomit, so he breathed only through his mouth. His gorge began to rise, so he hurried to the end of the alley and pounded his fists on the sliding steel door. He couldn’t throw up now — that was for after the Q-shift.
The door slid open before him, and he stumbled inside. Abner inhaled the sterile air of the Q-lab with relief.
“Hey, Garr, you OK?” One of the lab’s cashmen reached out a well-muscled arm to steady him.
“Yeah, just some bad air out there. Thanks, man.” Abner didn’t know the cashman’s name — or the name of anyone else here at the Q-lab. Reaching into his inside coat pocket, Abner pulled out a thick wad of twenties fastened with a rubber band. “Here you go. Two thousand for two hours.”
The cashman took the money and fed it into a counter. Abner knew it was all there — he’d counted it over and over again during the past few days, as he’d worked up the nerve to come back. It wasn’t all his, though; he’d been skimming the registers at the store and fixing the spreadsheets to cover it up. It wasn’t likely either of his partners would notice, and he would find a way to put the money back later. He would.
The counter dinged its approval, and the cashman waved him on back to the portal room.
A portal technician smiled at him and began tapping at a computer. “Let me just bring up your profile, Mr. Garr. Same as usual, two hours?”
Abner nodded. Knowing the routine, he walked over to the fine gold mesh cage of the portal and stepped inside.
“You run an electronics shop, right?” the technician asked conversationally.
“Yes.” A barely profitable venture; the big chain stores sucked up most of the customers.
“Bet you’d make a bunch, selling portals, if they weren’t… you know.”
If they weren’t highly illegal. “I suppose.” If they were legal, he’d have one at home. And maybe he’d never have to come home.
“Well, on your way. See you in two hours.”
Abner felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The familiar vertigo lasted only a moment, and suddenly he was standing before of a floor-to ceiling window in a high-rise looking out over San Francisco. He always marvelled at that view.
“Mr. Garr?”
Abner turned and looked at the sharp-dressed young man who had spoken. A vice president of some sort, he recalled vaguely. “Yes?”
“Can I get your approval on these?” The young man held out a handful of papers.
“Of course.” Duty called. He could afford to lollygag looking at the view. In this reality, GarrWare, Inc., was the third-largest company in the world, and he was its Chairman of the Board and CEO.
For the next two hours.