Free Haze and the Hammer of Darkness by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

of power, indeed of living, were designed to reflect the true impact of development on the environment as well as to discourage movement from the metroplexes and contained locials. Location pricing and transportation costs of certain energy-intensive goods effectively limited their use away from the metroplexes and locials. By implementing that pricing and adding geometric pricing for incremental energy usage, as well as a few other regulatory and pricing devices, the Federation had minimized population migration. In effect, the more desirable the location, the higher the cost of living there and the fewer personal amenities effectively allowed, except at exorbitant costs. Federation citizens could have personal luxuries or the luxury of open space, but not both.
    He set the bicycle in the corner stand and then walked toward the shop, checking the monitor. Unlike Ken’s Cleaners, Santiorna’s displayed no possible causes of excessive energy usage, even when he made his way to the end of the block and walked up the alley. He could sense eyes on him as he did so, but no one actually appeared. When he returned to Bluff Street and the front of the buildings, he saw two young women walking south toward him. When they saw the white monitor’s uniform, they immediately stepped inside what looked to be a craft shop.
    At that moment, Roget took another look at the business between the craft shop and the apparel outlet. DeseretData read the sign, with a design next to the name that incorporated two interlocked Ds. Why was the name familiar?
    He nodded as he recalled. DeseretData was Brendan B. Smith’s establishment. Just on an off chance that Smith might have something to do with the anomaly attributed to Santiorna’s, Roget took out the monitor and tabbed in an entry for DeseretData. Then he scanned the front of the shop and used the air sampling microfilament. After that, he walked back around to the alley and took readings there.
    He walked back to his bike, then paused as several small lorries drove silently by, followed by a brilliant yellow coupe that whined almost imperceptibly. He followed the coupe for all of a block, even as it pulled away from him, before he realized that he was getting hungry.
    The iron grilles and pseudo-aged stucco of the Frontier Fort caught his eye. He angled the bike off the street, dismounted, and walked it through the drawn-back iron gates into the shaded courtyard. There was a rack that could hold four bikes. One other bike was locked in place. Roget set the bike there and walked to the door and then inside the restaurant. Inside was notably cooler, but not chill. The hum of conversation filled the space. Close to half of the twenty or so tables were taken. That surprised Roget because he’d heard no sound when he’d been out in the courtyard.
    Good insulation, he decided.
    The hostess was a smiling, slim, but weathered and older woman, dressed in an old American-style pioneer ankle-length black skirt and a high-necked cream lace blouse. “Just you, sir?”
    Roget nodded.
    â€œThis way.”
    He followed her to a small table near the north wall. She handed him a printed menu. He hadn’t ever seen one of those.
    â€œWe’re out of the lamb, but there’s a venison stew for the same price. Jessica will take your order.”
    Roget decided to try the stew and ordered it and a pale lager, almost absently, when the round-faced and blond Jessica arrived. Then, while he waited for the venison, he intensified his implants and listened to various conversations taking place.
    â€œâ€¦ monitor … what’s he doing here?”
    â€œâ€¦ don’t know … don’t care…”
    â€œâ€¦ this one’s a young fellow … liked the other one…”
    Roget wasn’t all that young, but to the weathered older man, he probably looked that way.
    â€œThat’s because you never saw him.”
    â€œâ€¦ young