They went the rounds of the market buying various things Jazira needed, for which, even here outside the Controlled Area she paid with a quick scan of...the CID implant in her forearm. Towards noon, they settled at a coffee shop for snacks and tiny cups of dark, sweet coffee."Tell me how you are," Jazira said to her friend. "And, how long you'll stay. And, why you wear that awful stuff? The Wars are over, by the grace of Al'lah."Jazira referred to the Hadith Wars of the late 22nd century, several. Paul spotted the clipboard and signed the invoice, waited while the old character took a final sip of beer, then accepted his copy of the paperwork and the plastic credit card."Keep cool, Pop," he said. And he walked out, taking the long way around the station wagon to get another peek into the back of the vehicle. The rear glass was just as dirty as when he came in. He grinned to himself. Few operators would have spent the time to clean a rear window on a scorching day like this. And he wasn't. More

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