Free Second Paradigm by Peter J. Wacks

a more permanent place to live.” He hadn’t liked the way the guy had looked him over, and given what little he knew of the times, it seemed a safe thing to say.
    Sure enough the man scowled and said, “Eighteen hundred and no receipt. That’s the best price I can give you.”
    Chris counted off some bills. “Here’s fifteen hundred. No receipt, but a good room.”
    The man thought for a moment and pulled down some keys from the pegboard behind him and tossed them to Chris. “Deal.”
    Chris took the keys and slid another three hundred across the counter. “Tip.” He said simply. It seemed the best course of action to make sure that he had the man’s friendship in the future.
    The clerk smiled. “Wait up a minute.”
    He took down another set of keys and flipped them to Chris, and motioned for Chris to toss back the others. “A good room. Like you asked for. Anything else I can get you?”
    “Can you tell me where a drugstore is?” Chris thought about the basic necessities he would need.
    “What kind of drugstore?” The clerk raised an eyebrow. “Slab, smack, net drugs, contraceptives, antivirals … what you looking for?
    “You know, toiletries, that sort of thing? Toothbrush and stuff.” Chris raised his empty hands to indicate his lack of luggage.
    “Sure, bub. By the way, the name’s Charlie.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a map of Denver, pointing out a few malls and intersections with convenience stores. The tourist map had only the main streets and little pictures of all the places worth seeing in the area. In large letters along the top it stated: NORTH DENVER—TWO MILE HIGH CITY.
    “You got no luggage?” The clerk seemed to have a hidden meaning in his question, but Chris had no idea what it was.
    Chris shrugged. “I arrived a little unexpectedly.”
    “Shit, man. Sounds like being born. Hey, let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Mr. …?”
    “Call me Nost. Chris Nost.”
    “Righty-o, Chris Nost. Call down to the desk if there’s anything you need. Dial star one-one. I’m here nine to nine every day, and most nights, besides. Enjoy your stay.”
    The room surprised him, given the outward appearance of the Rangely Hotel. The bed was large and not obnoxiously lumpy, and the little table lamp lit the room with a bright yellow glow. Chris shut off the lamp and opened the brown, flower-patterned curtains, letting the distilled gray afternoon light wash over him and into the room. It had stopped raining, but a low fog had rolled in, hiding the silver spire of the D.A.B. and obscuring the view from his room. The Rangely was the highest building on the block, and Chris wondered what the scenery would be like once the weather cleared. His trip through the streets with Rat had disorientated him and he was no longer sure which way downtown was.
    Chris stripped and walked into the bathroom, wondering whether or not he would find some technological wonder. Luckily in the bathroom he found only a sort of refreshing disappointment—familiarity. Shower. Tub. Toilet. Sink. Starched hotel towels with the GeoCorp logo on them. They were the only signs in the hotel room that he had been asleep for forty-one years. He took them off the rack and laid them, unfolded and facedown, on the floor. He muttered his thanks that the embroidered “G” in a triangle was only on one side. Less than a day in this world, but he already knew he didn’t like GeoCorp, turned the hot water all the way on, laid down on the towels, and let the steam wash over him.
    He waited until the bathroom was filled with steam, turned off the shower and climbed into the tub, letting the heated ceramic warm the chill he hadn’t noticed was there. Tension started to drain from his muscles and a warm glow seeped through his body, filling the void left by the tension.
    Chris attempted to let his mind drift into oblivion, but there were too many questions running rampant through his thoughts. Who did I