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page0039.mm
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<p>Page 39.</p>
<h5>CHAPTER
NINE</h5>
<p>My immediate problem was figuring out how to persuade the Contours to
take me where I wanted to go, i.e. to meet Lola Banks. Because I had
serious doubts about my ability to control these legs. They had run
me through traffic and over a truck and now deposited me at some
random place I’d never been before. Then I realized I was being
stupid, because I was outside a cafe, and inside it, sipping coffee,
was Lola.</p>
<p>My heart jumped, and so did my legs. “No!” I said. This
was a nice cafe, with wrought iron furniture and a deep green awning
and people in suits munching focaccia; I didn’t want to crash
in there and embarrass myself. But the legs were unstoppable. It was
all I could do to duck beneath the doorway, and then I was inside.
Heads turned toward me. Eyes widened. Pasta hung suspended from
forks. I looked like a vagrant, you may recall. Plus I was
six-foot-six, and had titanium hooves. This was exactly what I didn’t
want. Lola turned toward me.</p>
<p>Her hair was in a pony-tail, and seemed resentful about that. She
wore a long dress, a yellow one. It billowed unexpectedly in the
chest and shoulders, but gripped her like death under the arms, as if
designed for a person with very different specs. Like maybe a
chimpanzee. But Lola’s face was radiant with joy, as if nothing
mattered except that I was here, and I grinned, because I felt the
same way.</p>