Ioan’s next interview subject was waiting for em at the agreed-upon library in the agreed-upon sim.
The location was grand, as though it had been tailored perfectly to eir tastes: a cube sixty meters on a side, lit brightly by lights so that within shone a smaller cube made entirely of shelves. Shelves containing book after book after book. Spiral staircases wound up each corner, disgorging patrons onto the various levels so that they could meander along balconies and dive into corridors of books. Books, magazines, pamphlets. Scrolls, parchments, leaflets, snippets, chicken-scratch in diaries, words upon words upon words.
-And there, on the bottom floor beneath all of the books, a cafe and bar, serving everything from tea and coffee to beer, whiskey, and doubtless some fancy-as-hell cocktails.
+And there, on the bottom floor beneath all of the books, a cafe and bar, serving everything from tea and coffee to beer, whiskey, and doubtless some ridiculously fancy cocktails.
“Mx. Ioan Bălan?” The young woman was waiting for em just inside the door to the cube.
Ey held out a hand. “Yes. You must be Sadiah?”
She beamed and bowed to em. “Yes, yes! It is nice to meet you. You’ll have to forgive me for not shaking your hand, I don’t like being touched. Follow me, though, I’ve staked out a booth where we can talk.”
@@ -87,7 +87,7 @@Ey felt helpless to do anything but.