Mind Over Ship Page 2

  When Ellen settled down, she said, “I’m sorry, Mary. It’s just that I get so angry sometimes.”

  “Perfectly understandable. No need for apologies.”

  “No one believes me,” the baby went on, “but I know I’m right.”

  Mary hesitated, then gave the clicker a quick squeeze. She looked imploringly at Lyra, who said, “Ellen, Clarity’s been trying to reach you for a week now. Shall I connect her?”

  “No!” Ellen said. “I don’t want to see her!”

  “Are you sure? She says it’s important.”

  “That’s what she always says.”

  Mary said, “Let’s move on. What else do you have, Lyra?” but Ellen changed her mind.

  “Let Clarity in. I do have something to tell her.”

  Clarity appeared on the opposite end of the room, took a moment to orient herself, and zoomed over to hover over the chairdog. Her holospace was roughly cropped and revealed scraps of her office around her. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she actually looked at her business partner, she laughed instead. “Honestly, Ellie,” she said, “you should see yourself. We should do a character like you. Maybe use Alison’s head.”

  The remark took Ellen off guard. “What?”

  “That big neck brace of yours is like an adapter plug. We could use it to screw different heads into your body. We could mix and match our characters.”

  “Very funny,” Ellen said.

  “I think so. I think it’s a riot. What do you think, Mary? We could call it the Amazing Modular People or something like that. Use it to recycle some of our less popular characters.”

  Ellen waved her small arms to cut her off. “Will you quit that already? I have something important to tell you. And please sit down. You’re giving me a headache having to crane my neck like this.”

  “Yes, of course. Just a sec.” Clarity vanished for a moment, and Mary nudged the chairdog to quick rocking. When Clarity reappeared, she was seated in an office chair.

  “Thank you,” Ellen said. “That’s better. Listen, Clarity, my friend, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and —”

  “Uh-oh,” Clarity said with a wink at Mary, “when she starts thinking, look out.”

  “And I want to leave Burning Daylight.”

  Clarity opened her mouth, then shut it.

  “I’m serious,” Ellen went on. “I’ve lost all interest in producing holonovelas and sims. All of that seems so trivial to me now. Also, I know I haven’t been pulling my weight for some time, and it’s not fair to you.”

  Clarity frowned while she considered a response. Finally, she said, “You’re not thinking straight, Ellie. You’re still mixed up from your accident.”

  Ellen’s reaction was explosive. “It was no accident!” she shouted. “Will everyone please get it through their skulls that it wasn’t an accident! Even the fecking Justice Department knows it was a deliberate attack!”

  “Sorry,” Clarity said. “I meant to say your attack.”

  “I’m serious, Clair, I want out! The sooner the better!”

  Clarity looked stricken. “But why? You love the business.”

  “Not anymore. Besides, I have no time for it. All my time is taken up doing my mother’s work.” Mary heard the word “mother” and readied the clicker. “At least until she returns.” Click.

  “Say what?”

  “My mother’s hiding out somewhere.” Click. “She’ll come back when it’s safe.” Click.

  Mary decided that they’d had enough and said, “Clarity, maybe you can continue this discussion tomorrow. We’re late for Ellen’s nutrition break.”

  “All right,” Clarity said uncertainly. “We’ll table the matter for now. We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

  “That won’t make any difference,” Ellen said, but Clarity waved good-bye and vanished. The doors opened at once, and June led a cart into the room, and in its wake came the aroma of baked apples and cinnamon.

  “Snack time!” June sang in a perfect expression of jenny enthusiasm. She spread her fingers at the window to enlarge it, then opened the cart’s high chair and reached for the baby.

  But Ellen resisted. “I’m not hungry,” she said and crossed her arms.

  “Oh, we’ll see about that,” June chortled. “No one can resist apple strudel fresh from the oven!”

  “Just watch me.”

  Mary leaned over to whisper in Ellen’s undersized ear. “How can I ask them to let you out of the tank at night when you refuse even to eat?”

  The baby took a moment to ponder this, then sighed and uncrossed her arms. “I can resist the strudel, nurse. It’s Mary I can’t resist.” She raised her arms for June to pick her up. “I’ll eat, but I’ll feed myself. Is that clear?”

  The young nurse laughed. “Yes, myr! You’re the boss!”

  Applied People — Warm Puppy Report

  Zoranna Alblaitor spent a restless night in her Telegraph Hill home. When she awoke at one end of her sprawling Lazy-Acres bed, her mentar, Nicholas, was sitting next to her dressed nattily in a morning suit. “Go away,” she sniffed. She turned her back to him and pulled the covers over her head.

  “We have a big day ahead, Zoe, beginning in about half an hour.”

  “Use a proxy,” said her muffled voice.

  “I would if we had any fresh ones.”

  “Cast me.”

  “I could, but then I’d have a grumpy, half-asleep proxy.” His argument had no effect on her. Not even the arrival of coffee and toasted bagels moved her. “I know what you need,” he said, “a Warm Puppy Report! Uncle Homer, where are you?” At once a long-haired blond chow chow puppy appeared in the middle of the vast bed dragging a ratty towel behind it. More fur than dog, the large puppy noticed them and, dropping the towel, galloped over on oversized paws. It leaped upon Zoranna and tried to root under her blanket. But she wore no vurt gear and could not feel it. The puppy gamboled back to its towel and seized and shook it with mock fury as though to break its neck.

  “It looks healthy enough,” Zoranna said, peeking out from under the covers.

  “Yes,” the mentar agreed. “It’s modeling the 75.2 million of our iterants who are awake and active at this time. Overall, they’re feeling fat and happy and well employed. Even frisky.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  The puppy discovered the young man still sleeping on the far end of the Lazy-Acres and dashed over to check him out.

  “So, how was last night’s conquest?” Nicholas asked, changing the subject.

  “Tireless,” Zoranna said. “As if you didn’t know.”

  “And how would I know?”

  “Get off it, Nick. I felt your presence. You were riding me last night. Don’t deny it. In fact, I think you enjoyed him more than I did.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll let you know.”

  The puppy came bounding back to them, but halfway across the bed it yelped and stopped. It sat and began to lick one of its hind legs. “There,” Nicholas said, “that’s what I wanted to show you.”

  “What is it, baby?” Zoranna said, enticing the puppy closer. Uncle Homer returned to them, wagging its whole rear end, and tried to wash Zoranna’s face with its tongue. “Make it vurt,” she told Nicholas, and a moment later she could feel the dog’s slobbery tongue and manic energy. She caught it in her arms to make it still and rubbed it behind its ears. The puppy felt so soft and warm — so real, as though Zoranna were wearing full vurt gear. If her mentar could ride her world, she could ride his.

  “I think the Londenstane case is the problem,” Nicholas said. “The trial concludes next week, our employees fear the verdict, and their stress is being translated as muscle cramps.”

  “Poor baby,” Zoranna cooed. “Mommy is worried too.”

  The dog melted away in her arms, and Nicholas said, “Now that you’re awake —”

  “Give him back.”

  “Later. Andrea Ti
ekel will be here in ten minutes.”

  “Garden Earth business?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Then what?”

  “She wouldn’t say, except that it’s important.”

  Zoranna dragged herself out of bed. In the bathroom, the large, softstone spa was filling with water. Zoranna considered the shelf of colored bottles and jars over the cabinet and chose Deep Forest from Borealis Botanicals. Borealis Botanicals was one of Saul Jaspersen’s companies. She despised the man but loved his line of all-natural toiletries. She spilled a handful of crystals into the surging water, releasing a musty, sweet cloud of steam. Slowly, she lowered herself into the fragrant brew. When she had made herself comfortable, she closed her eyes and said, “Ready.”

  Her mentar opened a familiar lounge holoscape where she liked to conduct meetings. She glanced down and saw that she was wearing a dark business suit. She was seated in a blue-black leather armchair, and Nicholas occupied the one next to her.

  ACROSS THE BAY in Oakland, Andrea Tiekel floated in a hernandez tank in a windowless basement room of her hillside house. She had not left the tall glass cylinder of bubbly green broth in weeks, and though she was constantly bathed in its wholesome chemicals, she continued to waste away. Her wispy hair drifted like seaweed, and her teeth were loose in her jaw.

  Are you still up for this? her mentar asked.

  Andrea belched a stream of curdled vomit, which was quickly absorbed by the fluid. I’ll manage, she said. The time is right.

  Yes, she’s vulnerable now. We’ll proceed, and we’ll try to make it brief. We’ll provide you a probability sidebob sim of her for comparison. We’ve never had the opportunity to model Zoranna’s personality in one of our preffing suites, but we have high confidence in the accuracy of this sidebob construct. Nicholas says they’re ready. Here we go.

  A moment later, Andrea Tiekel was sitting in a parlorlike space. Her persona was a healthy version of herself, fit and full and flush with color. Opposite her, Zoranna Alblaitor sat at ease next to her mentar, Nicholas, who wore his usual rakish persona. Between Zoranna and Nicholas, and invisible to them, stood Zoranna’s sidebob, wringing its hands anxiously, belying Zoranna’s apparent calm. Yes, this was the right time to strike.

  Nicholas spoke first. “Welcome, Andrea. Nice to see you outside the boardroom. Is E-P here too?”

  “Yes, we are,” said the mentar’s disembodied voice.

  “Wouldn’t you care to join us in the visible world?” Nicholas gestured to the empty armchair next to Andrea’s.

  “Actually,” E-P replied, “we don’t use a visible persona.”

  “Is that so?” Zoranna said. “What about that quicksilver Everyperson I see everywhere?”

  “That’s our E-Pluribus corporate logo,” E-P said. “That’s not us. But if you insist, we sometimes use this marker.” An icosahedron, like a ruby pineapple, appeared floating over the empty chair.

  “Splendid. Thank you,” Zoranna said and turned to Andrea. “Now, what’s the purpose of this ‘urgent’ meeting?” Though she seemed disinterested, her sidebob leaned forward to catch Andrea’s reply.

  “It’s actually pretty huge,” Andrea said. “When my dear aunt Andie died, she left me E-Pluribus and an impressive investment portfolio. I’m currently rebalancing this portfolio to better suit my own interests. As part of this process, I would like to purchase Applied People.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to buy you out.” Andrea sat back to watch Zoranna’s reaction.

  Both Zoranna and her sidebob seemed surprised. The sidebob said, What’s this all about? Is she serious? Do I want to sell? Does she know something I don’t? At the same time, the real Zoranna’s eyes darted this way and that as Nicholas, no doubt, poured counsel into her ear. After a few beats, Zoranna regained her composure and said, “How fascinating! Tell me, Andrea, shouldn’t the owner of the largest preference polling company in the world know that I have no intention whatsoever of selling Applied People?”

  Zoranna’s sidebob, meanwhile, had changed. It was now lying on a massage table, and a second Nicholas was feverishly kneading its neck and shoulders. Andrea smiled at the image. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I know your feelings about your company, but with the help of E-Pluribus, I am able to play my cards several shuffles ahead.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means that I know probabilities which tell me that things will go very poorly for Applied People in the next few months. Within a year, Applied People will be worth next to nothing and be teetering on financial collapse. I say this in all sympathy. I’m not gloating or trying to take advantage of an unfortunate situation. In fact, rather than waiting until the bottom drops out, I’m here now to make what I consider to be a generous offer.”

  Nicholas interjected, “Just how generous?”

  “Eighty-two UDC per share.”

  That was generous. Better than twice full value.

  Zoranna said, “If you really mean to be generous, then you’d fill me in on the nature of this unfortunate situation that E-Pluribus foresees. Then Nick and I might have the opportunity to do something about it and save my company.”

  Meanwhile, her sidebob was saying, Is it the Londenstane trial? Does she know the outcome? Oh, my God, the court is using an E-Pluribus jury! Did she rig it? Are we doomed? The sidebob was no longer on the massage table but in bed clinging to Nicholas like to a lover.

  Andrea lingered over this image, then turned to Zoranna and said, “As you wish, I will tell you. There’s a near certainty that Fred Londenstane will be found — innocent.”

  With a brave face, Zoranna said, “But that’s good news!” Her sidebob, however, cried, We’re ruined!

  “Actually,” Andrea went on, “it’s not good news, at least not for your business. It would be far better if he received a life sentence and was locked away forever. Out of sight, out of mind. But instead he’ll be constantly in the public eye, a permanent reminder of his clone fatigue and a gadfly upon your whole organization.”

  There’s no such thing as clone fatigue! raged the sidebob. It’s a myth, an urban legend. It’s not real, and we have the science to prove it. Calmly, Zoranna said, “That’s a cynical statement, Andrea, considering we’re talking about a living human being here, but I see your point. Tell me, how can you be so sure of the verdict? I mean, I thought that as soon as E-Pluribus releases jury sims to the court you have no further contact with them.”

  “That’s true, we don’t. But don’t forget, we still have the original sims in our database. If we expose them to the same testimony as presented in court, we can determine how they’re likely to respond to it. In any case, I’ve made my offer. I don’t expect an immediate reply. I’ll leave it on the table for now, but the per-share amount will drop appreciably with time. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She rose to leave.

  Zoranna also rose. “Thank you for dropping by,” she said, but her sidebob was curled up in a trembling ball of nerves.

  THAT QUITE WORE me out, Andrea said, once again in her warm, dark, syrupy tank.

  Yes, we see that, E-P replied. You’ll have a rest break before our next meeting, but tell us, any insights to share?

  Were you able to move any furniture into Nicholas’s realm?

  No, his security was too alert. Why do you ask?

  There’s something odd about their relationship. Not your usual human/mentar sponsorship.

  We’ll look into it. Anything else?

  Andrea reached out and touched the glassine side of her tank, caressing its smooth surface with bony fingers. Yes, one more impression. She’s a sensuous person. Tell me, what brand of body oil or skin cream does she prefer?

  Borealis Botanicals. After a moment, E-P said, Yes, a fine vehicle. We’ll look into that as well. Now rest, dear.

  One more thing. I feel my time is near.

  The mentar paused a moment, and then it said, We’ll place the order.

  Thank you.<
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  Replacement Order

  The order rumbled throughout the underground facility, rousting subunits by the score from the chilly slumber of standby status. Subems diagnosed both themselves and their component machines. Motors whirred, pressures rose, and instruments self-aligned to nano-tolerances. Several million jiffies later, the controlling midem declared the laboratory fully operational.

  At once, all three stitching chambers prepped themselves with skeletal scaffolding blanks. Their print heads chittered to life. First they laid down the bones, building them from organic feedstock, 4096 molecules per stitch, a thousand stitches per second. Then they dressed the finished skeletons with organs, printing them in place. They knit muscle fibers, entrails, circulatory lines, nerves. They constructed hearts already containing the blood they would soon pump.

  Seventy hours later, the stitchers went off-line, the chamber doors opened, and the print run was removed, still cold, to the bonding bay. The bay was a small space where the raw bodies could continue their internal assembly undisturbed for another forty-eight hours. Then medbeitors wheeled the bodies into the “delivery” room where they were jolted to life.

  Only two of the Andreas passed inspection. The third exhibited a faulty nervous system and was handed off for sanitary disposal. The lab midem sent a fulfillment notice up the chain.

  Total Body Makeover

  Oliver TUG browsed the Thievery Gallery of the Persuasion Channel for their new interviewee. The rows of postage-stamp mug shots were no help: one brutalized face looked much like another, and there were so many of them. Oliver searched manually by dates and key words and after a few passes found the kid. The banner over his mug read, “WRECKER,” and the Ransom/Reward link below read, “He stole from us, and we want it back.” The thief, himself, looked to be about twelve years old, but he was a retroboy. He was a member of a gang that had caused a TUG moving and storage van to crash and then stole its contents before the traffic police arrived. At least, the TUGs assumed this retroboy was a wrecker. They had scant evidence, the boy hadn’t actually copped to anything yet, and no one had offered to ransom him.