Dr. NoSleep (host)

My khaki-clad right leg bounces on its own, a perpetual motion machine I have no control over.

The receptionist cuts her eyes at me, again, a manicured eyebrow raising.

I give her a weak smile.

She goes back to typing on her computer.

A moment later, Detective Sipes' office door opens.

A man in a smart gray suit steps out, charcoal black tie tucked into a vest, a worn leather shoulder holster containing a pistol visible under his open suit jacket.

My sidearm is in a hip holster.

I wonder idly if shoulder holsters are required for Foundation detectives.

Ever since the incident, I've been thinking about getting one anyway.

He extends a hand.

Ackley, I'm Sipes.

Nice to finally meet you in person.

I shake his hand, standing.

He's at least 20 years older than me, although he wears it well, with his shimmering gray-black beard and his immaculately styled head of hair.

You too.

He releases my hand, his friendly expression morphing to consternation.

Apparently they messed up.

Didn't give you a shot you were supposed to get.

But that's something we'll remedy lickety-split.

Follow me.