Into the Fourth Universe

by Robert Wingfield

  “Of course.” Tom resisted the temptation to show his ignorance by asking who the ‘Plank’ was, but made a note to look it up; along with more details of the business he now appeared to be a figurehead for.

  * * *

  Tom dozed for a while as the journey progressed, but then woke feeling restless and logged in to the public network to see what information they had on him. There was quite a bit: various gibes from (smaller) rival companies: one or two aspersions on his sexuality (“we’ll see about that.”): a lot of information about business deals and takeovers, not all of it complimentary: the odd law suit from small companies claiming copyright infringements, but still nothing actually saying what the company actually did. He then looked up the ‘Plank’. It appeared to be a ruling body of executives, all by statute in agreement with whatever the CPD (Chief Plank Dictator) decided to put into place. Tom made a note to visit the CPD and find out who he was and what made him tick. He put this resolve aside though, when he found details of a purchase of an island state in the middle of the Placatory Ocean, where new company headquarters were being completed. Reports said they should have been ready a few months ago, but that there were ‘issues’ with the final décor of the building.

  “Amber?”

  The girl had entered the cabin with a tall glass containing a red liquid and a variety of miniature parasols and assorted foliage. “Yes, sir? I thought you’d like a drink.”

  “Thank you.” Tom took the glass and tasted the cocktail. “Very nice; cheers.” He patted the seat next to him. “Please sit.” She gave him an uncomfortable look and eased herself self-consciously down, taking care to leave the largest gap possible between them. He smiled. “Sorry, I’m not coming on to you. I needed to know a few things without everybody overhearing.”

  “Oh?” Amber still looked uncomfortable.

  “I’ll turn the seats so that we can look out of the windows and pretend to be pointing out various, er, bits of sea to you. Keep your head turned away from the security camera so our lips can’t be read.”

  “Can I borrow your notepad, sir?”

  “Er, yes, if you like.”

  Amber picked up the device, and typed in, “I assume that you don’t want to be overheard by the microphones in your seat.” She used the backspace key to remove the text.

  “Of course.” Tom felt very stupid.

  “I could accompany you to the observation deck if you like, sir,” she said. “But I must warn you, I am a respectable girl, so don’t try anything on.” She grinned.

  “Good idea, on both counts. You lead the way.”

  Tom stood up to follow the elegant form of the new stewardess through the cabin. She waited for him and slipped her arm about his waist. He was surprised, but not displeased. Errorcode looked up from his terminal as they passed. Tom winked at him and the aide nodded knowingly, a slight smile playing across his lips. The girl led him down a spiral staircase into what would have been the first-class lounge, but was now a gym cum bar1 with large windows set into the floor. It seemed like the whole of creation could be seen from there; straight down through what Tom would have known as 40,000 feet, but was now apparently a smaller number of metres. “I hope this glass is strong,” he said, smiling, and reaching for her hand.

  Amber closed the door to the stairway. “Yes sir. I believe it is. Please don’t get the wrong idea about that arm about the waist thing, but the only way we could get some privacy was for them to think we were going for a shag. Now we’re away from any security and listening devices, what did you want to know?”

  “Everything really. Can I trust you to keep a secret?” She nodded. “Er, difficult to say, but I appear to have lost my memory.” Her eyes widened. “I need you to fill me in with the details of what’s going on here, and generally get me up to date.”

  “I don’t know much about the internal workings of the company, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, it’s really a matter of finding out who I can trust. I’m hoping I can number you as the first of those people?”

  “Of course, you did save my life and get me my dream job.” She still looked concerned. “Are you sure you want me here, though? What about your aides?”

  “I have no idea. I’m a tad worried about that unpleasant gentleman in the airport. How come my security people let him through? After all, I do appear to be the most important person on the planet.” Tom said this last sarcastically, but Amber took him seriously.

  “Yes, you are, sir. Your prestige, philandering and ruthlessness in business are widely known, in addition to you continuously getting a 5 in your PDP. If everything else they say about you is true, then…”

  “They, you mean I do have some allies?”

  “You have forgotten?”

  Tom nodded thoughtfully.

  “The ‘Daily EComm’ think you’re the programmer’s forefingers; always publishing articles about you.”

  “And that’s good?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. And the Society for World Existential and Extended Peace.”

  Tom did a quick analysis. “Yes, I suppose it would be good to have SWEEP on my side. Do I have any enemies?”

  “No sir.” Amber cast her eyes down.

  “Yes, I do. Look, I want you to be honest with me. How long do you think I’ll survive if I don’t know who my enemies are? Tell me the truth.”

  “I guess you could be careful of the Society for the On-going Outsider Termination of International Entities.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “And the Society for Unilateral Exfoliation.”

  “Yes, that would make sense too. So, work with SWEEP. But keep clear of SOOTIE and SUE. How much influence do those people have?”

  “I don’t really know, sir, but they do publish regular criticism of you. The press wonders why you don’t retaliate.”

  “I expect I have my reasons.” Tom made a mental note to check out the activities of both groups. “But how would I do that without alerting my staff?”

  “Sorry sir?”

  “Just wondering. How would I be able to start an investigation into the attempted assassination without making the guys suspicious?”

  Amber looked puzzled. “You could try reading a news mail sir.”

  “Good batting, think-man,” said Tom without thinking.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing. An old show I used to watch. Right…” His voice trailed off as Amber straddled his knee and gave him a deep and passionate kiss. “Mmmmm.” The next moment, the door opened and Errorcode’s winning smile appeared.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” he said (Tom thought the voice sounded a little sarcastic), “but I need you to sign a few transactions I have to complete before tomorrow. I can come back later if you like. (His voice implied that ‘later’ would not be an option.)

  “Thank you, er, stewardess, that will be all,” said Tom, with a wry smile.

  “Yes sir.” Amber made a show of straightening her dress and scampered off up the stairs.

  “Nice girl,” said Montague.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” replied Tom, his face expressionless.

  The Doll Bites Back

  T

  he former window salesman and now very deeply in trouble. Allan, sat meekly in the corner of the living room while ‘Sharon’ pulled on her other boot. She scowled at him as he fidgeted. “Right, sit still, you pervert and I’m going to put you right on a few things. For a start, my name is not bloody Sharon, it is, er,” a puzzled expression flashed over the beautiful face, “er, be-bugger it, I can’t remember. Anyway, I do know it isn’t bloody Sharon, so don’t you dare call me that again.”

  “No ma’am,” he replied humbly. He was a lot meeker now, owing to the fact that the former instruments of sexual pleasure were now firmly attached to some of his more delicate parts, and the android held the other end of the rope. He had tried to resist, but she was significantly stronger and
was easily able to overpower him.

  “Right. Now let’s get some other things straight.” She pierced him with a stare which made the back of his head feel like it was on fire. “I am not yours to do with what you like. I’m a free woman from, er, er, somewhere else, and I demand you take me back there or my name isn’t, er, whatever it is, but not bloody Sharon, okay?”

  “Look, I’m very sorry, but I didn’t and don’t know anything about you. You were cold and still and felt a lot like a premium sex doll…” He took a breath as she digested this. “Not that I’d know,” he added hastily, as her expression of contempt deepened.

  “Go on.” The android snorted.

  “I found you in a nettle patch up the hill. Near a grave I’d dug.”

  “Oh, so you were going to bury me then to destroy the evidence?”

  “No, no. There was this old couple. They used to own the farm…”

  “So you murdered them and were about to do away with me too.”

  “No they were already dead when I got here.”

  “Bastard. So you hired a hit man and then came to check up that he’d done a good job…”

  “Old age killed them. Look, shush will you, I’m trying to explain…”

  “Ah…” she latched on to his statement. “So that’s my real name then; Willyou. Why didn’t you tell me when I asked?”

  “It’s not your name…”

  “Then why did you say it? What are you keeping from me? Speak!” The rope tightened, and tears began to appear in his eyes. He thought quickly. He had vague recollections of ancient languages from his sales training and he seemed to remember that the word, ‘Willyou’, actually meant ‘Keeper of the Sperm’ or ‘Sperm-hawk’ in old Pangean. Apparently, some ancient rulers had everything done for them, including having a trusted retainer to deal with toilet functions, the ‘Warden of the Stool’, or ‘Stool-pigeon’ as it was sometimes known. The ‘Willyou’ had a similar function for other parts, and the job was to make sure that none of the ruler’s liquids went to waste, being provided for the Ladies in Waiting if the ruler was too tired to do it himself.

  “Speak, man.” The android stamped her foot impatiently.

  “Okay, okay. Yes, it is your name, I confess.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It was on your bag.”

  “What the one you lost in the lake during your futile resistance. The one you tried to whack me round the head with?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Stay here. I’ll get it. Phoist betide you if you’re arsing me about.”

  Allan was left tied up with his own thoughts. The machine had clearly lost some of her memory and it was his job to ensure that she did not recall the bits dangerous to him. If that happened, then there was a good chance she might feel she could dispense with his services, and subsequently his life. As he thought more about the problem, he wondered if he could turn the situation to his advantage. After all, she had lost most of her memory and would really have no choice but to believe him, if he could come up with a plausible story.

  The clump-squelch of waterlogged boots sounded on the veranda. “Is this it?” She dropped the soggy bag on the floor in front of him. He nodded. “Good.” She examined it. “What’s this name inside, Gucki? You said my name was Willyou.”

  “Yes, it is. You have two names. You can use either.”

  The woman looked thoughtful. “Yes, sounds familiar. Of course that’s my name. Silly me. Willyou Gucki, Willyou Gucki. How could I forget that? Now where were we? What was I doing in the nettles?”

  “We were having a game and you fell and got concussion.”

  Gingerly, she felt the top of her head. “Seems okay at the moment.”

  “I suppose you are an android,” he said quickly. “I guess your systems repair very easily.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “How would you know that? You said you recently found me.”

  He held her gaze for a while, but you cannot outstare a machine. He dropped his eyes, trying not to look guilty. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear the real truth… You won’t like it.”

  “Real truth? So you hadn’t just found me.”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “That sounds more likely,” she agreed. “You were being a bit more familiar than if we’d just met.” She shook her head. “Unless you are from Skagos, where that sort of thing is normal upon first contact?”

  “No.” Allan had not heard of the place but made up his mind it would be his first visit if he ever got away from here. His eyes ran over the damp form of his companion and noted the way the clothing was clinging to her curves. Perhaps being stranded here was not going to be too bad, if only he could persuade the android not to kill him.

  “And what were you doing here with me then?”

  Fear marshalled his powers of invention. “Er, you were co-pilot and sex companion on my ship which crashed on this planet. I think you may have been damaged in the impact, which might explain all the inconsistencies in any stories or events you think you remember up until now. You’re a very good co-pilot and mechanic, you know. And you did love me. You were programmed to love me and not to hurt me under any circumstances.” He held his breath. The android, now called Willyou, processed the information. It was a measure of the paradox he had given her that the processing took some considerable time (for a machine). Ten milliseconds later she stared straight at him.

  “And this is all true is it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And what if I were to say I don’t believe a word of it, and I think I’m going to kill you.”

  Allan swallowed and tried to control his voice. “You’d be making a mistake and would never know the rest of the story of your life.”

  “Tell me.” The rope tightened a bit more.

  “In good time,” he squeaked. “Take the rope off me or you’ll never find out anything.”

  “I could torture you.”

  “You are,” he gasped. “And you haven’t learnt anything yet, apart from the fact I am your, er lord and master. Do you have any information in your databanks that you can access?”

  “I do have some data.”

  “Check what your name means in Ancient Pangean?”

  The Android blinked. “Ah.” A mixed expression of confusion and embarrassment flashed over her face. The pressure on the rope slackened. “Sorry, er, master, sire. I seem to have made a serious error in suspecting you. Please forgive me.” She released the rope completely and knelt at his feet. “Is there anything I can do to make amends?”

  A lascivious smile flashed across his face. “I’m sure I can think of something,” he said.

  * * *

  A considerable time later, they were bathing in the warm pool under the waterfall. Allan was very happy and totally relaxed for the first time in most of his travels. Willyou had shown him some interesting techniques, and using the data she had extracted from the Ancients, added to the existing catalogue already stored. She was puzzled when she discovered she already had this programming, but took Allan at his word, and fulfilled her imagined role as she thought would most please him. She was going to collect his bodily fluids in case they met any Ladies in Waiting, but Allan had told her it was fine, because he could always make more when required. She rubbed herself against him and reached downwards.

  “That is okay for the moment,” he gasped.

  “Sorry master. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “You know that belt of yours?”

  “The one with the leather skirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put it on.”

  “What, the skirt.”

  “No, just the belt. That’s your uniform with me now. Oh, and you can wear the boots, and that holster for your gun on your thigh, in case we meet any dangerous aliens.”

  “Yes master. Is there anything else?”

  “I believe you are a technician.
Do you think you can repair my, sorry our, ship?”

  “I can try, master.”

  * * *

  In the engine compartment of Allan’s ship, Willyou scratched her head. “The main drive seems to have shut itself off. I think it was a safety feature to prevent it from blowing up when you crashed.”

  “Can it be restarted?”

  “I don’t think so, master.”

  “Would you mind calling me Allan or Captain, please? I won’t look good if we ever meet anyone else and you keep calling me ‘Master.’”

  “And will it look good if they see me dressed like this?”

  “It depends on where we go.” His hand strayed to her thigh and the firmness of the muscles started to make him feel randy again.

  “We should continue working on the engines,” she said. “You told me you wanted to get mobile again as a priority. We can do all that sort of thing later.”

  “Aw…”

  “Yes master, sorry, Allan. If that is your wish.”

  “That is my wish,” said Allan, licking his lips and hoping very much for his own sake that she never regained her memory.

  * * *

  “I’ve remembered something.”

  Allan lay at the back of the engine compartment, his eyes having difficulty focusing after their latest tryst. “Oh my Phoist, er, I mean, very good. What have you recalled?”

  “I know where there’s another ship. I don’t know why I know, but I’m fairly certain there’s one up the hill where those people are buried.”

  “So?”

  “There might be spares we can get from there. Or we could even use it to escape if we can work out how to fly it.”

  “Okay. Please lead on.” He struggled to his feet. “Get dressed, will you.”

  “Yes, Allan.” She retrieved the belt and strapped the pistol back to her thigh. “Better?”

  “Much better.”

  “This way then.”

  Allan followed the perfect body as Willyou led him away from the crash site and up the side of the valley; long slim legs, narrow waist and her soft blonde hair billowing in the wind. What a bit of luck he had crashed into. Did he really want to leave? Perhaps not, but unfortunately he had mentioned that he did want to get off the planet. He had realised that as long as he stuck with a particular idea or plan, she did not question. However, if he gave her some information and then changed his mind, it seemed to stimulate her memory, and other snippets would come through. The simple act of asking her to call him by his name rather than ‘master’ had triggered the memory of what was probably her own ship. He dreaded to think what would happen if he made a major change like deciding to stay instead of leaving. She was angry enough when she knew nothing; what would happen if her real personality came through? She was really very strong when her body was charged up in direct sunlight.