Free Dead Man on the Moon by Steven Harper Page B

lay back down. Linus reminded Noah a little of Lieutenant Charlie Meeks, his superior back in Madison. Meeks put his work ahead of everything, which was one reason he was such a great cop, even if he was a pain in the ass as a boss. The only way to handle him was to lean on the rules defining your job and keep the union informed.
    By all rights the small confrontation should have wired him up and made him restless, so he completely surprised himself by falling almost instantly back to sleep. When he awoke two hours later, the tropical sunrise had turned to tropical day, though the sound was muted and the ocean remained silent.
    The bedroom remained stubbornly shut and as quiet as the holographic ocean. Noah showered quickly, but with difficulty. The water seemed to ooze more than it flowed, and the back spray that bounced off his chest hung in the air and nearly drowned him until he learned the trick of keeping his back to the showerhead at all times. Then he dressed and left the apartment. A check with the computer showed him a cafeteria not far away The food, while adequate, cost more than Noah was willing to pay except on an occasional basis. He wondered if the grocery stores were just as bad, and then he wondered what Ilene was eating that morning. Toast points and caviar with champagne and orange juice?
    After breakfast of toast, coffee, and a gooey pastry, he had a quick meeting with his advisor, a short, grandmotherly woman named Arissen Mayfield. He already had a good idea of what his courses would be, and she agreed with his choices. This semester he would take three classes: low-gravity physical metallurgy, materials fracture and fatigue under radiation, and cell matrix mechanics in microgravity. Next semester, if he felt he could handle the workload, he might take four classes, but for now this seemed plenty. Noah knew he was smart, but he wasn't brilliant, and would need a fair amount of study time.
    Arissen walked him through the registration process on her computer, and he received immediate notice about what texts he needed to download—and at what price. Noah whistled when he saw the total for tuition, lab fees, access fees, and books. One semester cost twice his annual salary as a crime scene technician back in Wisconsin.
    "A lot of people react that way," Arissen said with a smile. "But every year, we get thousands more applicants than we can accept. People claw and fight to get into Loony U."
    "Thank god for my grant," Noah said.
    "Oh, that's right," Arissen said. "You're the Aidan Cos-grove recipient. You know, something close to four hundred people applied for that grant. You should feel pretty proud that you got it."
    "And grateful," Noah said. "Without it, I wouldn't be here."
    A bit later, Noah exited the academic building into the warm, eternal spring of the Dome. He was about to ask his computer for directions to the closest grocery store when a call came in from Roger Davids, a name he didn't recognize. Curious, Noah sat down on a park bench and accepted the call on visual. His monocle showed him the image of a man in his late thirties. Dark brown hair, fair skin, sharply defined features, ice-blue eyes. He had an easygoing smile and a quiet voice.
    "I'm the entertainment coordinator for Luna City," he said after introductions. "Sorry I didn't get hold of you earlier. Your secondary job is working for me."
    "Really?" Noah said. "Doing what?"
    "Your file says you worked your way through college doing vaudeville revival."
    "That's right," Noah replied cautiously.
    "We want you to do a few shows for us" Roger explained with a quiet grin. "Entertainment's always in short supply up here. It's expensive to upload the new vid-feeds from Earth, and the inter actives always suffer from time delay. So we depend on a lot of live stuff and locally recorded broadcasts." He glanced down at something off-screen. "I've got you down for an hour-long show twice a month, if you work out well at your first one. Style