ne of your stupid points. Rape is serious."

The cops arrived then, two of them on scooters, looking like meter maids. Art
and Linda glared at each other for a moment, then forced smiles at the cops, who
had dismounted and shed their helmets. They were young men, in their twenties,
and to Art, they looked like kids playing dress up.

"Evening sir, miss," one said. "I'm PC McGivens and this is PC DeMoss. You
called emergency services?" McGivens had his comm out and it was pointed at
them, slurping in their identity on police override.

"Yes," Art said. "But it's OK now. They took off. One of them left his wallet
behind." He bent and picked it up and made to hand it to PC DeMoss, who was
closer. The cop ignored it.

"Please sir, put that down. We'll gather the evidence."

Art lowered it to the ground, felt himself blushing. His hands were shaking now,
whether from embarrassment, triumph or hurt he couldn't say. He held up his
now-empty palms in a gesture of surrender.

"Step over here, please, sir," PC McGivens said, and led him off a short ways,
while PC Blaylock closed on Linda.

"Now, sir," McGivens said, in a businesslike way, "please tell me exactly what
happened."

So Art did, tastefully omitting the meat-parlor where the evening's festivities
had begun. He started to get into it, to evangelize his fast-thinking bravery
with the phone. McGivens obliged him with a little grin.

"Very good. Now, again, please, sir?"

"I'm sorry?" Art said.

"Can you repeat it, please? Procedure."

"Why?"

"Can't really say, sir. It's procedure."

Art thought about arguing, but managed to control the impulse. The man was a
cop, he was a foreigner -- albeit a thoroughly documented one -- and what would
it cost? He'd probably left something out anyway.

He retold the story from the top, speaking slowly and clearly. PC McGivens aimed
his comm Artwards, and tapped out the occasional note as Art spoke.

"Thank you sir. Now, once more, please?"

Art blew out an exasperated sigh. His feet hurt, and his bladder was swollen
with drink. "You're joking."

"No sir, I'm afraid not. Procedure."

"But it's stupid! The guys who tried to mug us are long gone, I've given you
their descriptions, you have their *identification* --" But they didn't, not
yet. The wallet still lay where Art had dropped it.

PC McGivens shook his head slowly, as though marveling at the previously
unsuspected inanity of his daily round. "All very true, s