March 5
“Fine,” I say. “What do you want me to do? I’ve never even seen a Steamer before you came along.”
“You…” Reynold’s eyes widen, almost to the point that they’re about to jump out of his skull. “I’m… what year is this?”
“Two thousand,” I say. “Turn of the millennium. Why? What year do you think it is?”
“This is the right year,” he grumbles. “This is the right year! What the hell? I’m not early!”
“Calm down,” I say. “You’re attracting attention. I don’t think that’s good for the Steamer.” It’s another lie, of course; for all I know it could be the right thing to do.
“You’re right,” he says, taking a long pull from the coffee. It’s my turn to gawk now. “Oh, right, I probably just burned myself,” he says. “Side-effect of being attached to a Steamer too long. You lose yourself. I need to get this fixed before I start to forget who I am entirely.”
“Heavy.”
“I know,” he says. “Okay. First, what I need from you is just a guess. An estimate. You… well, you don’t know this yet, but your guess is going to be pretty damn close to accurate. It’s going to be better than my guess.”
“Okay,” I say. “Give me another look at it.” He opens his coat, just enough to let some light onto his chest.
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