Free Peace in an Age of Metal and Men by Anthony Eichenlaub

to unlock the transaction. Usually you pick images that you wouldn’t usually think of—aw, dammit I just thought of mine.”
    I stood up. A wave of dizziness hit me. I sat back down.
    “Hold on,” said Keith. He closed his eyes, pensive thought on his face. “There. Got it locked up again. Now as long as I don’t think—dammit. Hold on.”
    Standing up slowly this time, I made my way across the street to the bank. Keith didn’t follow. I pulled the heavy steel door open and slipped inside. Harsh white lights stung my eyes. Straight ahead sat a single teller’s desk: polished steel with a gold inlay. A steel railing separated the teller’s desk from what was presumably the customer section of the bank. Behind the teller’s desk was a wall of steel and black metal. Set inside that reinforced wall was an outline of a door with no hint of doorknob. The poker player was nowhere to be seen.
    The hum of power vibrated in the floor and the teller’s desk lit up. Behind it, the projected image of a perky, young blonde appeared. Her image seemed to tap her fingernails on the desk as she silently regarded me. Her smile was wide and almost made it up to her eyes.
    “Can I help you?”
    I quit my rubbernecking and stepped up to the desk. Hat held close to my chest, I bowed my head slightly and cleared my throat. “Looking to put something in safety deposit, ma’am.”
    Her eyebrows shot up. She acted just like a person, but it was hard to know if she was a projected image of a real worker or just a clever machine. Maybe this was a testament to how good machines have gotten. Or maybe it reflected poorly on the state of humanity.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “There are no safety-deposit boxes in this location.”
    “You sure?” I leaned close to her flickering, projected face. She was semi-transparent and close up it was easy to see the door behind her. “’Cause, I can see the door to the vault right there and it makes not one bit of sense for a bank to have a vault but not rent out space in it.”
    She blinked. “Come again?”
    “What’s that vault for?” I leaned even closer, gripping the steel railing with both hands.
    “This location does not contain a safety-deposit box. There is no vault for storing customer goods. The vault is for the sole purpose of holding cash reserves.”
    I leaned back, pulled with my metal hand, and snapped a steel bar off the railing. “Whoops,” I said. With a quick twist, I bent the bar into a cane and leaned on it heavily as I walked out of the bank.
    Sheriff Flores stood at the entrance, a scowl on his face. His pistol was out, but not pointed at me. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were flashing with artificial light.
    Hands raised, I said, “Just doing a little banking.” He didn’t respond, so I edged my way past him and crossed the street.
    Once I was back on the bench with Keith, I lay the cane across my lap.
    “Y’all are insane in this town, you know that, right?”
    Keith blinked hard at me. “That you, J.D.?”
    “Yup.”
    “You’ve had a long day. Sun’s coming down. Should we head back to the ranch and I’ll let you bunk up at my place?”
    “Nope.”
    He looked at me.
    “Too much work to do,” I said. “And too much walking.”
    With that, I stood up and walked into the falling dusk, using the cane to keep me from stumbling. A clever man might be able to figure out this problem without violence. Maybe clever wasn’t my thing, but with enough time to ponder I was sure to come up with something.
    To my surprise, Keith fell in step beside me.
    “Go home, Keith.”
    He didn’t answer. The sun ducked behind the horizon and soon the moon was out. As the air cooled, exhaustion crept in. Between blood loss and a poor night’s sleep, I was fading fast. It wasn’t long before the mere act of walking was making me breathe fast and my heart race.
    “Nice town you have there,” I said.
    “Swallow Hill wasn’t always like that.” Keith looked