Metro Port was its usual crowded. Heavily armed security bots flanked each gate, kiosks offered protein pastes, synthetic alcohols in fancy bottles, and exorbitantly expensive fresh fruit. Passengers, arriving and departing, raced through the beehive of the Metro Port. The buzz of thoughts made Tricky feel tipsy.

It was his meal break. Myna thought he was getting a little soft in the middle so instead of zoning out to vids Tricky walked the space port concourses. He’d worked here over eight years and still he marveled at the changes. At first he loved watching the space ship launches the ships piercing the sky. Next he turned to people watching but it felt too much like work. Thought scanning flagged passengers day in day out was exhausting. Three weeks into his wife’s stupid diet Tricky’s mind focused on food.

Each break was a new gastric adventure, Tricky would smell grilled steaks from the elite lounges. He concentrated on the antics of the pretzel makers and pizza spinners. Today’s adventure was the produce kiosk in Concourse C7. Marlo, his assistant, had raved about the orange pomegranate salad he got for his birthday.

Real melon chunks in orange and green beaconed from a bed of ice. Tricky oohed and ached over the Boston lettuce and fingerling potatoes. A splash of red caught his eye. A brilliant white porcelain tray displayed succulent tomato slices.Tricky’s hunger pushed out all the noise and throbbed like a sore tooth.

Hey mutt you’re turning away paying customers, the clerk thought. Anyone ever tell you you got a face like a slapped ass.

The insult poked at Tricky’s temple. The clerk was deeply tanned and model beautiful with straight white teeth and sparkle eys. Irritated, Tricky mentally scanned the clerk.

“May I help you, sir. You look like a citizen with discerning taste. We have some lovely orange segment sfresh from the farms of Mars,” the clerk said.

Fresh enough for you hemorrhoid. Boss makes me soak these bad boys in glycerine and sugar water, sucker, the clerk thought.

Tricky flinched at that thought. He could see the tub of fetid liquid in the clerk’s mind. A flood of health code violations poured out of the clerks thoughts into Tricky. Straightening, Tricky grimaced as he sucked in the pretty boy’s disdainful internal monologue. The clerk’s handsome face paled under the tan tint when he noticed Tricky’s TSA Telepathy ID. Most telepaths were low level inutives and emotion readers. At the TSA, the mind readers were highly trained lie detectors and a few like Tricky could jack thoughts.

Tricky smiled and the clerk shuddered.

“Hello sir, hello. Things are fine. Everything is fine here. Nothing to see here.”

Tricky cocked his head to the side as the clerk’s thoughts hiccuped with panic. The kiosk’s owner was the clerk’s uncle and a little bit shady.

“Inspector Henderson, report to security headquarters. Inspector Henderson report Code Gray.,” the public service announcement blared.

The overhead vid screens flashed an alert. Sighing and feeling tired, Tricky tapped his watch to give his staff his ETA. Code Greys, unreadable passenger or sentient android, were never easy. Tricky released the clerk’s mind. The handsome young man thrusted an apple, shiny red with orange flecks. Tricky wondered if this was part of that fruit smuggling shipment that came in last night. The fruit was fresh and untaxed.

“Apple a day keeps trouble away,” the clerk blurted out.

Polishing the fruit on his shirt, Tricky gave the clerk a knowing wink and walked off.