"Busy, Elm?" I said, sliding the pocket door open a bit and poking my face through.

"Sig! Come in!"

Did, shutting the door behind me.

"You're looking unhealthier than usual, Sig."

He never passed up an opportunity to take a shot at my sallow complexion.

"Thanks, Elm. You're looking as roguey and robust as ever yourself"

Elmero pushed two meters heightwise and was as lean as he was long. His legs uncoiled from around each other as his polyform recliner straightened him up. Envied that recliner. Supposed to be the most comfortable chair in Occupied Space. Some day, if I ever got rich…

"What can I do for you?"

"Need an exchange on this," I said, tossing him the coin.

He rode his chair over to the corner console and dropped the coin in a little cup-like analyzer that weighed it, factored in the day's spot price for gold, and came up with a figure only he could see. Elm liked gold. He had lots of dealings outside the usual credit lanes and gold was universally accepted as barter.

"Give you sixteen hundred for it."

It was worth a good 2K and we both knew it but Elmero loved to haggle.

"Was figuring maybe seventeen or eighteen before taxes."

He smiled. Warned him about that — an ugly sight. He said, "Why don't we settle on a net of fifteen?"

"Filamentous," I said. That was what I'd wanted when I walked in.

He reached over to his employer's wageboard and punched in some data. He knew my ID number by heart.

"Okay, Sig," he said. "I just paid you eighteen hundred for a week's work. Which week you want it to be?"

Shrugged. "Last is as good as any."

He entered it. We waited a couple of seconds, then I went over to his credit terminal and stuck my thumb in the hole. A press of the status key rewarded me with a credit readout of 1522-post automatic deduction of the taxes. At least I wouldn't be getting any more red lights and could stop making up excuses about my thumb transponder acting up and needing replacement. Gets embarrassing after a while.