“Hello, Dale,” said what must have been Skye’s voice. He spoke with deep, slightly nasal tones. “Thank you for coming in.”

Okay, we had the guy’s picture, and his first name, and the name of his favorite meed. Even if Dale’s last name didn’t turn up in Skye’s appointment computer, we should have no trouble tracking him down.

“As you know,” said Skye’s recorded voice, “the law requires two soothsayings in each person’s life. The first is done just after you’re born, with one or both of your parents in attendance. At that time, the soothsayer only tells them things they’ll need to know to get you through childhood. But when you turn eighteen, you, not your parents, become legally responsible for all your actions, and so it’s time you heard everything. Now, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Here it comes, I thought. He told Dale something he didn’t want to hear, the guy flipped, pulled out a blaster, and blew him away.

Dale swallowed. “The — the good, I guess.”

“All right,” said Skye. “First, you’re a bright young man — not a genius, you understand, but brighter than average. Your IQ should run between 126 and 132. You are gifted musically — did your parents tell you that? Good. I hope they encouraged you.”

“They did,” said Dale, nodding. “I’ve had piano lessons since I was four.”

“Good, good. A crime to waste such raw talent. You also have a particular aptitude for mathematics. That’s often paired with musical ability, of course, so no surprises there. Your visual memory is slightly better than average, although your ability to do rote memorization is slightly worse. You would make a good long-distance runner, but…”

I motioned for Suze to hit the fast-forward button; it seemed like a typical soothsaying, although I’d review it in depth later, if need be. Poor Dale fidgeted up and down in quadruple speed for a time, then Suze released the button.