Ajax Penumbra 1969 (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, #0.5)

by Robin Sloan

He hikes to the Golden Gate Bridge, because he knows his parents will ask him about it. A quarter of the way across, he turns back. He expected a view of the city, but the bay is filled with fog, and his short-sleeved shirt is flapping in the frigid wind.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t see anything here…. What’s your name again?” The customer smiles beatifically. “Coyote.” “Coyote, of course…. No, I don’t see any Coyote here. I see a Starchild … a Frodo … but no Coyote.” “Starchild, yeah! That’s my last name.

Wait there’s actually a well-known SF “politician”/crazy person named Starchild 😂

“San Francisco,” he croaks. You nod. Armitage nods back. Then he lifts one stubby arm into an operatic curve, and in a vibrating baritone he sings: “If you’re gooo-ing … to Saaan Fraaan-cisco …” He breaks off. Casts a glance up at your buzz cut. Stabs a finger. “Not much to hold the flowers up there, Ajax.”

Traveling up and down the peninsula, Penumbra has come to the conclusion that San Francisco is not actually part of California. The city is pale and windswept; Palo Alto is green and still, with the scent of eucalyptus strong in the air. The sky here is pearlescent blue, not platinum gray.

“If I ran this store, I’d make it members only. I certainly wouldn’t waste any more time with the public.” He almost spits it: public.

All I hear in my head is “You threw me into pub-lic.”