seven

Deeter Zor looked around again. Still no one in sight. He continued recording his diary. "I escaped him relatively blindly. I think I wanted a place I could travel not on foot. I've never tried that before. I've never been in a, a small ship? A shuttle? I think that's what they're called. Well, first I plan to fix my hair, then get moving about somehow."

He strode uneasily into the street. The walkway. The street in plastic-age civilizations was for the shuttles, not people. Although he did occasionally see people crossing it. It was morning, and people walked across the street in fixed manners. They all wore dark sober clothing and ignored everything but their destinations.

He didn't understand how the translation device made him literate, but it seemed to. So he read the signs of the buildings all pressed together on the street, between the impossibly tall ones, till he found a jewelry store. Unfortunately it wasn't open, and he couldn't figure out what time standard this place adhered to. With a brilliant flash of insight, he stopped the next passerby he saw.

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you have the time?"

"Three o'clock," she said.

"Thank you," he said, but she was already out of hearing.

So, like his home planet, it seemed they counted from sunup or so. The jewelry store would be open in an hour. He decided to see if there were any other places on the block that he could simply browse in the meantime.

Only one store seemed to be open, despite the bars on the window. He walked in and looked around. He couldn't really tell what anything was - except for the knives in the glass case. They seemed old and ill-used, but a weapon wouldn't be the worst thing to have.

"I can see y'know your shit," said a voice that nearly made Deeter jump. He turned to the proprietor, a short pale bald man with a blond goatee. "Those guys haven't been taken care of, but a bit'a spit'n'polish'll show their true beauty."

"To be honest, I'm more looking for something practical than ... attractive."

"Then y'don't want one of those. Unless yer stronger than y'look." At Deeter's blush, he said, "Y'want a taser, is what y'want."

"Taser?" he repeated.

"Yeah, y'know, electric shock. No permanent damage, only about one percent as strong as lightning, but usually knocks'em out cold." He guided him to another case. "See."

The tasers were simple rectangles, either black metal or plastic. Nothing remarkable about them at all. "I've never seen one. And I don't actually have local currency yet..."

"Yeah, thought yer accent was funny. I'll let y'have the cheapest high-power one then. Decent exchange rate, too." He unlocked the case.

"What powers them?"

"Batteries." He slid a piece of the taser open and pulled out a small flat white block. "Y'just buy new ones after every fifty shots."

"Fifty shots?" There was a lot about this electricity he truly didn't understand.

"Yep." He replaced the battery. "Lithium ion, or something. I ain't no scientist, but I know what works. I've knocked out giant herding dogs with this."

It was strange, indeed, what the translator did. "Giant herding dogs" was clearly a mangle of a local idiom, but "lithium ion"? He shrugged and pulled out a few diamonds. "How many?"

"Hoo boy, really ain't from 'round here, are ya?"

"Well, I was going to sell them, but the nearest jeweler isn't open yet."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't get a fair price there neither. See what I can do then." He walked around the store for a minute before settling on something. A giant lens with a metal rim and handle. "This'll hafta do." He took one of the diamonds from Deeter's hand, then held it up to the light, examining it. "I'm no gemologist but this is one fine lookin' specimen. You got another?"

Deeter held it up, and was handed the taser in return. "Let me just write you up a bill of sale and we're all set."

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