Burn | Page 6

might have meant to search for Proper Gregory Leung or Phosphor Gregory L'ung or
Procter Gregoire Lyon? He hadn't but there was no reason not to look them up. Proper
Leung, it turned out, raised gosdogs for meat on a ranch out in Hopedale, which was in
the Southwest Territory. Spur thought that eating gosdogs was barbaric and he had no
interest in chatting with the rancher. Gregory L'ung lived on Kenning in the Theta Persei
system. On an impulse, Spur sent his greeting. As he expected, it was immediately
diverted to a bot. L'ung's virtual companion was a shining green turtle resting on a rock in
a muddy river.
"The High Gregory of Kenning regrets that he is otherwise occupied at the moment," it
said, raising its shell up off the rock. It stood on four human feet. "I note with interest that
your greeting originates from a jurisdiction under a consensual...."
The turtle didn't get the chance to finish. The screen shimmered and went dark. A
moment later, it lit up again with the image of a boy, perched at the edge of an elaborate
chair.
He was wearing a purple fabric wrap that covered the lower part of his body from waist
to ankles. He was bare-chested except for the skin of some elongated, dun-colored animal
draped around his thin shoulders. Spur couldn't have said for sure how old the boy was,
but despite an assured bearing and intelligent yellow eyes, he seemed not yet a man. The
chair caught Spur's eye again: it looked to be of some dark wood, although much of it
was gilded. Each of the legs ended in a stylized human foot. The back panel rose high
above the boy's head and was carved with leaves and branches that bore translucent
purple fruit.
That sparkled like jewels.
Spur reminded himself to breathe. It looked very much like a throne.
Three
It takes two to speak the truth -- one to speak and another to hear.
- A Week on the Concord and Merrimack rivers
"Hello, hello," said the boy. "Who is doing his talk, please?"
Spur struggled to keep his voice from squeaking. "My name is Prosper Gregory Leung."
The boy frowned and pointed at the bottom of the screen. "Walden, it tells? I have less
than any idea of Walden."
"It's a planet."

"And tells that it's wrongful to think too hard on planet Walden? Why? Is your brain
dry?"
"I think." Spur was taken aback. "We all think." Even though he thought he was being
insulted, Spur didn't want to snap the connection -- not yet anyway. "I'm sorry, I didn't
get your name."
The words coming out of the speakers did not seem to match what the boy was saying.
His lips barely moved, yet what Spur heard was, "I'm the High Gregory,
Phosphorescence of Kenning, energized by the Tortoise of Eternal Radiation." Spur
realized that the boy was probably speaking another language and that what he was
hearing was a translation. Spur had been expecting the censors built into the tell to buzz
this conversation like they had buzzed so much of his chat with Leaf Benkleman, but
maybe bad translation was just as effective.
"That's interesting," said Spur cautiously. "And what is it that you do there on Kenning?"
"Do?" The High Gregory rubbed his nose absently. "Oh, do! I make luck."
"Really? People can do that on the upside?"
"What is the upside?"
"Space, you know." Spur waved an arm over his head and glanced upward.
The High Gregory frowned. "Prosper Gregory Leung breathes space?"
"No, I breathe air." He realized that the tell might easily be garbling his end of the
conversation as well. "Only air." He spoke slowly and with exaggerated precision. "We
call the Thousand Worlds the upside. Here. On my world."
The High Gregory still appeared to be confused.
"On this planet." He gestured at the hospital room. "Planet Walden. We look up at the
stars." He raised his hand to his brow, as if sighting on some distant landmark. "At night."
Listening to himself babble, Spur was certain that the High Gregory must think him an
idiot. He had to change the subject, so he tapped his chest. "My friends call me Spur."
The High Gregory shook his head with a rueful smile. "You give me warmth, Spur, but I
turn away with regret from the kind offer to enjoy sex with you. Memsen watches to see
that I don't tickle life until I have enough of age."
Aghast, Spur sputtered that he had made no such offer, but the High Gregory, appearing
not to hear, continued to speak.
"You have a fullness of age, friend Spur. Have you found a job of work on planet
Walden?"

"You're asking what I do for