Free Halo: First Strike by Eric S. Nylund

Get used to it; we all do."
     
    "Of course you do," the creature of light said.  "And how
    about you, Mister Gonzales?  Do you have questions?"
     
    "Not really.  I'm an observer, little more."
     
    "A difficult position to maintain," the Aleph-figure said. 
    "Epistemologically, of course, an untenable position."
     
    Lizzie laughed.  She said, "It is indeed.  Look, how about I
    take you two out to dinner tonight, Mister Gonzales, Doctor
    Heywood?"
     
    "Call me Diana," she said.
     
    "You bet," Lizzie said.  "And I'm Lizzie, you're ?"  She
    looked at Gonzales.
     
    "Mikhail," he said.  "But call me Gonzalesmy friends do."
     
    "Good," Lizzie said.  "We've got work to do, so let's cut the
    shit.  This thing, I'm still not a believer about it, but I know
    it's got to happen quickly or not at all.  Tomorrow Charley does
    his preliminary examination of Diana, then we move."
     
     
     
     
    9. Virtual Caf
     
     
     
    Gonzales and Diana sat in Halo's Central Plaza with Lizzie. 
    Colored lightsred, blue, and greenclustered in the branches of
    thick-leaved maples that ringed the square.  The smoke of vendors'
    grills filled the air with the smells of grilled meat and fish. 
    In the middle distance, elevators in pools of yellow light climbed
    Spoke 6.  Some people strolled across the Plaza; others sat in
    small groups; their voices made a soft background murmur.
     
    "Waiter," Lizzie said, and a sam came rolling toward them. 
    It stopped by their table and stood silently.  "What do you have
    tonight?" she asked.
     
    It said, "Ceviche made just hours ago, quite good everyone
    says, from tuna out of marine habitatyou can also have it
    grilled.  For meat eaters, spit-barbecued goat.  Otherwise, sushi
    plates, salads, sukiyakis."
     
    "Ceviche for everyone?" Lizzie asked.
     
    Diana said, "That's fine," and the Gonzales nodded.
     
    Lizzie said, "And bring us a couple of big salads, sushi for
    everyone, and a stack of plates.  Local beer all right?"  The
    other two nodded.
     
    "Yes, Ms. Jordan," the sam said.  "And lots of bread as
    usual?"
     
    "Right," she said.  "Thank you."
     
    Strings of lights marked off the area where they sat.  Above
    a white-trellised gate, letters in more red faux neon said
    VIRTUAL CAF.  Perhaps twenty tables were scattered around, as
    were two-meter high, white crockery vases with wildflowers
    spraying out of them.  About half the tables had people seated at
    them, and the sam waiters moved silently among the tables, some
    carrying immense silver trays of food.  Other sams stood at low
    benches in the center of the tables, where they chopped vegetables
    at speed or sliced great red slabs of tuna, while others stood at
    woks, where they worked the vegetables and hot oil with sets of
    spidery extensors.  One sam from time-to-time extended a probe and
    stuck it into the dark carcass of a goat turning on a spit.
     
    The waiter rolled up with a massive tray balanced on thin
    extensors:  on the tray were plates of French bread and a bowl of
    butter, dark bottles of Angels Beeron the silver labels, an
    androgynous figure in white, arms folded, feathery wings unfurled
    high over its head.
     
    Lizzie raised her glass and said, "Welcome to Halo."  The
    three clinked their glasses together, reaching across the table
    with the usual sorts of awkward gestures.
    #
     
    After dinner, the three of them found empty chairs out in the
    square's open spaces and sat looking into the close-hanging sky.
     
    Lizzie looked at them both, as if measuring them, and said,
    "What I was asking about earlier  either of you folks got a
    hidden agenda?  If so, you tell me about it now, we'll see what
    can be done, but if you spring any unpleasant surprises later on,
    we'll hang you out to dry."
     
    "I know what you mean," Diana said.  "But I don't think you
    have to worry about us.  Gonzales is connected, but I think he's
    harmless; and I'm out of the loop entirelyhere on strictly
    personal