Free Longevity by S. J. Hunter Page A

you in, you know already that he'd be willing enough to co-operate in just about anything. This is sloppy, though. If he'd given an appropriate warning at work, or even a reasonable excuse at work and taken care of his appointments, we wouldn't be involved."
    "Autodrive zone ending. Left turn in 500 meters," said the car.
    "He always did have a disregard for anything and anyone not directly useful in his experiments. I suppose someone could have kidnapped him out of revenge, or spite. But I doubt it. He's working for someone, and they called him out on something urgent."
    Livvy took the wheel and held it tightly.
    "Destination on left," said the car.
    "And this is the girlfriend. I'll bet she's a real sweetheart, too. I've always considered it one of the highlights of the Laws, that they actually discourage some people from reproducing," Livvy said through clenched teeth as the car jerked to a stop.
    For someone who had put effort into making her face look anything but fierce, Livvy managed to create an expression with an impressively feral quality.

    • • •
     
    "My, my, my," Isabella said in a husky drawl, "you two should have children together."
    The girlfriend, it turned out, was Isabella Meadows, the actress. Chris remembered the name from her career as an ingenue when he was young, which meant that she was close to his age but had probably started getting resets as soon as they were available, settling her biological age at around 28. His memory was of someone fresh-faced. A fragile blonde. In the years since, like Livvy, Isabella had had a lot of work done on top of good material, and the coloration was now superbly smoky-eyed and platinum, but the effect was magnificently statuesque rather than lovely. Although her eyes sparkled suggestively, not much else in her face moved.
    They had been ushered into her presence by a straight-backed and graying woman in a black dress and starched white apron, through a stately late 19 th century home that had also had a lot of work done to add all the modern conveniences of voice-op doors and lights, while still hanging onto all its marble and mahogany. The entryway alone could have encompassed Chris' efficiency, with enough overhead space remaining to still contain a/assive diamond and crystal chandelier. In the reception room, as Chris found himself calling it, Isabella was sitting in a cream brocade-covered Empire-style armchair that allowed her to create an impressive display of her crossed legs.
    Neither Chris nor Livvy reacted to Isabella's suggestion, and Isabella laughed.
    "You must forgive me. Guessing people's chronos when I meet them is a hobby of mine, and your reactions, or lack of them, help.
    "Let me see," she went on. Her eyes had quickly flicked over Livvy, assessing her in the way one woman checked out another when she was both dismissing her and admiring her style, but she took her time with Chris, surveying him from head to toe.
    "A natural," she said, then looked more carefully. "No, of course, your position with the city entitles you to resets, and you are a dedicated man. You have chosen to avoid enhancements - how fortunate for you that you have so little need, and how rare. Where have you been all these years? But as I said, you are dedicated, so I'm going to guess you started getting resets when you could, which would put your chrono at close to 100. Marvelous. A contemporary."
    She leaned forward as though talking to Livvy alone, in confidence, although she kept her eyes on Chris. "You must keep an eye on this one, my dear. He has no idea, which makes him that much more attractive. What we used to call ruggedly handsome."
    Isabella leaned back again and took a cigarette out of a silver case shaped like a seashell, then lit it with a companion silver lighter shaped like a different type of shell.
    "As for you, my dear, there is still a subtle enthusiasm that cannot be feigned, but you also have experience to give you confidence and poise, even when I