At three in the morning, the town of Howe lay silent. Garbage—bottles, cans, and jars—littered the streets paved with bluestone and broken brick. Advertisements for the sex trade and magazines featuring exposed bodies danced in the wind, while the two moons overhead draped the town's shale rooftops in a mercury-like silver sheen.
Augustus did not have time to put on a shirt, wearing only a jacket over his bare upper body. He crossed the silent streets, turned several corners in succession, and wound deeper into town before finding the art gallery Josephine had mentioned at an inconspicuous corner.
In Augustus's eyes, the art gallery looked rather convincing. Its maze-like winding corridors were lined with gold-framed landscape oils and abstract artworks. Glass display cases and tall stools stood at every turn, bearing last-century-style gramophones and handicrafts carved from extraterrestrial specialties.
After looking over several paintings at the gallery entrance, Augustus did not venture into the maze-like interior. Instead, he looked up at several well-hidden surveillance cameras. He knew he did not need to risk going inside. Someone would come looking for him soon enough.
After Augustus raised his hand to check his watch for the second time, a woman with a short black ponytail stepped out in high-heeled boots.
She was clearly not a local. She had wheat-colored skin and full, sensual lips, wore a brown midriff-baring vest, and had a high, full chest and rounded thighs wrapped in tight leather pants. She carried a musky scent, though it was far from pleasant.
"This is the Chelsea Gallery. Are you here to browse, or would you like some Eden's Serpent?" The woman spoke in slang Augustus did not understand.
"I want neither, ma'am." Augustus took a Fort Howe ID card and a leather-bound credential embossed with a golden eagle from his