An old, old process, exploited by fortune tellers everywhere. Steer a guy through an endless series of yes-no, right-wrong questions, and in no time at all a convincing illusion of intimacy built itself up. A simple psychological trick, sharpened by listening carefully to answers, feeling the way, and playing the odds.
In his experience most places reserved the main drag for profit-and-loss businesses. Municipal enterprises like cops and county offices would be a block or two over. Maybe more.
Except they had never had a fight. Not in the sense meant by people paid to fight or die. Pushing and shoving at the schoolyard gate or on the sidewalk outside the soda shop or late at night after a start-of-summer keg party was as far from fighting as two fat guys tossing lame spirals in the park were from the Superbowl.
Strength and brains. A dangerous mixture.
– You're a legend around here. Some folks still wonder why you left.
– Let's just say I woke up one morning and the uniform didn't fit.
Zec was a word. And so is Chelovek. It's a transliteration of their word for human being. Zec Chelovek means prisoner-human being. Like Prisoner Man.
True randomness is impossible for a human to achieve. There are always patterns.
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