Free Expatria: The Box Set by Keith Brooke

disappointed. I had hoped...'
    Tsang drew a box, about thirty centimetres by ten by ten, from under his stall. 'Sukui-san,' he said. 'I was keeping this, but... I know you are a special customer. All the merchandisers of Orlyons come awake when it is known you are in town. See here.' The box was made of black plastic and there were switches and dials along one of the longer sides. Tsang activated the machine and held his hand behind it.
    And instantly another hand appeared above the device, hovering in the air. The new hand was naturally coloured but faint in the bright sunlight of Greene Gardens. 'It is better in the dark,' said Tsang. 'Then it glows like the hand of an angel.' The hand moved and then vanished in a line that advanced across it; Tsang was moving his hand out of range of the device's receiver and, for a moment, only his fingers hung in ghostly replica. Then they were gone. 'It is fully documented, of course. What is your offer?' asked the young trader.
    'A Toshiba trifacsimile,' said Sukui. He had read the device's name on the front of the box. 'I can see why you like it, it is a pretty toy, although it has little practical use. But we have trifacsimiles in Alabama City—the Lord Salvo Andric's nephew has one in his playroom and even he tires of his.' Sukui felt momentarily sorry for Lui Tsang. The youth was clearly convinced by his lies: if he knew the device's name then he must be telling the truth. Sukui wanted the trifacsimile, more for what he could learn from it than from any application it might have. He had come across references to these devices in the technical literatures back in Alabama City; having one to experiment with might be another step forward in uniting the theories of ancient technology that had become his life's work.
    'Let me see. I will take everything.' Sukui knew from experience that job-lots came cheaper than buying items individually, and this way he did not have to reveal his real interest in the Toshiba unit. Sukui struck a favourable deal and then gestured for Sanjit Borodin to come forward and finalise the details.
    The day's trading proved a moderate success. The stock of exchange goods and money was largely replaced by the delegation's acquisitions and Sukui was pleased with his work. As the streets darkened, traders closed their stalls and others opened new ones. Although tonight was not MidNight there was still a demand for some of the dealers in pleasure that Orlyons supported so lucratively.
    'Hey, Sukui-san,' called a voice. 'Come, see what I can offer you.'
    It was Chet Alpha, host of the travelling peep-show and General Purveyor of Pleasure (Most Tastes, No Surcharge), as his little trailer's placard proclaimed.
    'Fine quality, certified clean,' he said, hanging an arm across Sukui's shoulders. 'I checked 'em myself.' He laughed drunkenly and Sukui stepped clear of his sweating arm. 'Sukui-san, I know you're a man of taste. Only the best. Come and see.'
    Sukui was tired and he did not like Alpha, especially when he was drunk. But he did have a certain reputation. 'I want nothing myself,' said Sukui. 'But maybe you could visit Alabama City. The Lord Andric might look upon you favourably. He is a patron of the arts, you know.'
    'Hey, I'll do that. I've lost trade since I stopped working Newest Delhi, you know. That Prime Edward, he's not keen on the arts, you see. At least his wife isn't! No, I don't go there now. Too dangerous.'
    Alpha straightened, and shook Sukui's hand. 'Yes, I'll come down to your Alabama City, sir. Maybe I'll even set up base down there, the way this place is going. It's that Hanrahan, the one who killed the Prime; now that he's here, things are no good. They're after him, you see. They were asking me about him and I told them, "Look," I told them. "He's nothing to do with me," I told them. "He can—"'
    ' Who is after Hanrahan?'
    'I recognised them from Newest Delhi,' said Alpha. ' Trade . You know. They were in the Guard then. I think they still