34
“Mentat, get your a*s in here.”
“Yes, Prefect Conway.”
Conway watched the Mentat walk into his office. The truth-sayer, which he paid handsomely for each month, walked like a robot. His six-and-half-foot, slender frame was stiff as his Johnson before he did Beth. Nothing, other than his legs, moved when he walked. His arms were locked in place at his sides and his head stayed rigid. He looked like a new automaton spit from a mold. His ash-colored skin was flawless. Every hair on his head and face laid perfectly in place. He was the only being Prefect Conway ever met with a hundred percent uniformity from one side of his face to the other. There were times when Conway wanted to slice him open to see what was inside. The only thing which stopped him was the huge deposit he would lose b
