Грань будущего

           Ritawassittingthreerowsinfrontofme,herbacktomeassheate.Ihadn’tchosenthistimetoeatbecauseitcoincidedwithherlunch;itjustworkedoutthatway.Fornoparticularreason,I’dgottenusedtowatchinghereatfromthissameangleeachday.

           CafeteriaNo.2wasn’tthesortofplaceasergeantmajorlikeRitawouldnormallybeexpectedtodine.It’snotthatthefoodwasbad.Itwasprettygood,actually.Butitdidn’tseemlikelytoimpresssomeonewhowokeupinanofficer’sprivateskyloungeeachmorningandhadhalfthebaseatherbeckandcall.I’devenheardthatU.S.SpecialForceshadbroughtalongtheirowncook,whichonlydeepenedthemysteryofherpresence.Shecouldhaveswallowedaliveratandwouldn’thaveseemedmoreasnakeinourmidst.Andsooursavioratealone.Noonetriedtotalktoher,andtheseatsaroundherwerealwaysconspicuouslyempty.

           Forallherprowessinbattle,RitaVrataskiatelikeachild.Shelickedthesoupfromthecornersofhermouthanddrewpicturesinherfoodwiththetipsofherchopsticks.Apparentlychopsticksweresomethingnewtoher.At1143shedroppedabeanonherplate.Itrolled,pickingupspeed,bouncingfirsttohertray,andthentothetable.Thebeanflewthroughtheairwithaclockwisespin,careeningtowardtheconcretefloor.Everytime,withlightningreflexes,Ritawouldextendherlefthand,pluckthebeanoutoftheair,andcramitintohermouth.Allinunder0.11seconds.Ifshe’dlivedbackintheOldWest,Iimagineshe’dhaveoutdrawnBillytheKid.