“Lay off all our own staff? What are you going to do about the knowledge they have, the experience, the goodwill and that sort of thing?”
“We will get our technical staff to write down everything they do, and then train up Mr Nishi’s people.”
“Yes, my personnel will be just as good, and I can provide four people for every one of yours and you will still save money. They can follow the processes laid down and run the systems in exactly the same way.”
“So, are our staff really going to feel like training up the people taking their jobs off them?”
Errorcode pulled himself upright. “They are professionals, sir. They will document themselves out of a job because they are professionals. They will take pride in the quality of their paperwork, instruction manuals and hand-over documentation. There won’t be any problems.”
“But what happens if we find there are systems we haven’t handed over properly? Will we have to re-employ laid-off staff to cover.”
“Certainly not, sir. That would leave us open to litigation. The point of the deal is to remove expensive staff and to replace them with cheaper, more efficient people.”
Mr Nishi smiled with pride, nodding enthusiastically.
“And what happens if it doesn’t work. Have we a plan B where we bring everything back in-house and rebuild from there?”
“Plan B, sir? Why would we need a Plan B? It will work. I have performed similar operations in many other companies and everything has been fine.”
“Would you give a list of those companies to Amber, here. I’d like to see how they are doing now and how many are still trading.”
“You wound me, sir.”
“Sorry about that. In the meantime I’d like to consider this document before we go any further.”
Errorcode’s face twisted. “The contract is official now. We cannot pull out.”
Mr Nishi put his hands together as though he was praying. “Yes, you see, Mr Smith, Montague is your official representative in this transaction. He has given his agreement. If you retract now you will all be put to death, as is the law in my country.”
“What?”
“He is right, sir.” The aide was now looking very uncomfortable. “The contract has been made, and stays in place, with or without your blessing. We cannot pull out now.”
Tom said nothing. He sat back, defeated, and scanned the rest of the agreement. Another clause caught his attention. “There is some software included here.”
“Yes, that is our collaboration suite.” Mr Nishi smiled proudly. “We call it ‘Constrictions’. It is brilliant.”
“And what does it do?”
Errorcode smiled again. “Everything we need to run the business, sir. It is superb.” He settled himself down on the sofa beside Nishi. “And it is free. We will install it alongside all our other systems.”
“Free? What’s this eighteen million figure quoted then.”
“Maintenance, Mr Smith.” Nishi cut in. “We are always developing the product, so by paying that, you will always be up to date. Support is included in the price of course.”
“But haven’t we already got systems that do all this?” Tom scanned the brochure attached to the back of the file. “How will you get people to use it to ensure that it’s not a waste of money?”
“We will make them use it, sir. All communications and processes and forms and travel requests and everything else will go through this. Eighteen million is not a large sum to pay for removing all our other software.”
“I see. And this concession you mention here; mining and development rights on the Island of Sodall. Isn’t that where our new headquarters is being built?”
“Yes, that is correct, sir. Our two companies will be working closely together, so it is logical to have our HQ close to their centre of operations.”
“Right, and in return what are we getting?”
“Peace of mind, cost savings, money for our resources; nobody ever got fired for dealing with the Nishant Corporation.” He smiled at Nishi who grinned back, showing a row of yellow teeth.
“There is one last requirement, not actually in the contract.”
“What would that be, Mr Nishi; I’m sure we can accommodate?” Errorcode’s smile stayed in place
“I will have Mr Smith’s secretary…”
Tom gasped. The colour drained from Amber’s face.
“I will exchange her for five of my best geisha girls, all PCI compliant and schooled in the arts of erotic massage, sexual perversions, exotic cuisine, shorthand and typing.”
“PCI compliant?” Tom could not believe what he was hearing. Was the slave trade still rife in this strange universe?
“Personal Care Inspection,” Nishi explained. “Certified disease free.”
“No thank you.” Tom managed to blurt out.
“No?” Nishi’s face fell. “What about ten then, each with her own PCI certificate?”
“No, really. I cannot replace Amber for any number of girls.”
“This could seriously jeopardise the deal.”
“You should take the offer, sir.” Errorcode cut in. “We do not want Mr Nishi to pull out at this stage.”
“The sale of my P.A. is not in the contract. Am I right in assuming that if Mr Nishi does pull out, the laws of his country require that he be put to death instead?”
Nishi nodded, beaten. “You drive a hard bargain sir. I am sorry we could not see eye to eye on this particular requirement, but you are correct. It is not in the contract so I cannot pull out at this stage.”
Tom nodded thoughtfully, and then suddenly realised what he had done.
Both men looked at him. “Thank you for agreeing to the terms, sir,” said Errorcode, smiling. “I think that our meeting is concluded, Mr Nishi.”
“It is.” Nishi grinned again. “Thank you all for coming.” He shot Amber such a shameless glance that she was on her feet and bolting for the door before her colleagues got to their feet.
Skirt Length Theory
A
llan was pleased to find that the shower unit in the cylinder was fully operational, and the temperature more easily controlled than that of the waterfall. He and Willyou spent some time cleaning up and then some more time getting dirty and then finally some time getting clean again. He flopped down exhausted on the bed. Willyou stared down at him with strange feelings she could not quite visualise tickling the back of her cortex. “I’m sure there is something I have to do,” she announced.
Allan’s mind fired warning flares. Was she getting her memory back? He sat up and tried to interpret the expression on the android’s face; a pointless exercise because the look could be controlled at will, and only showed what Willyou wanted it to show. He realised this and tried another diversion. “Didn’t you say you had to see if there’s anything we can salvage aboard this contraption?”
“No, I get the distinct feeling we should use this one for travelling.”
“Are you sure it’s a ship?”
“If not, tell me how it got here. It didn’t just materialise… Ah.” More buried thoughts slipped into Willyou’s mind. Again she had difficulty locking on.
“Materialise? Rubbish; you can’t do that with matter.” Allan butted in before she could deliberate further, and the recollections melted away, leaving her with a vague feeling of unease. “Everyone knows that if you take something apart at the molecular level, and then try to re-assemble it, you only get a sticky mess of deadness.”
“Do they? I’m going down to have another look at the controls, to see if I can work out what this thing will do.”
“Be quick; we don’t want the owners to come back while you’re messing about; they might be cross.”
“I’ve been wondering about that too.”
“Oh dear.” Then Allan brightened. “I know. I bet this thing belongs to those poor people I buried. It’s probably their gazebo or something.”
“Perh
aps you’re right.” Willyou dismissed the odd thoughts. She sat down on the side of the bed and pulled her boots on while Allan watched, almost drooling, but unable to do anything about it. She buckled her belt and slipped the pistol back into the holster on her leg, and then regarded the reclining man. He had slumped back on to the covers and closed his eyes. “I’ll go down and see what I can find,” she said, not expecting him to hear. “You stay here and recover.”
Back in the control room, Willyou seated herself at the console. It was blank except for a green symbol in the top corner. Her finger rested on it. “Good morning,” an accented voice sounded from a holo-speaker above her. “How are you today?” Four buttons appeared on the display: ‘Great’, ‘Fine’, ‘So-so’, ‘Not so Pukka’.
“I’m fine thank you,” she said.
“Sorry, but the voice appreciation systems have not yet been attuned. Please be kindly pressing the significant button.”
She touched the button labelled ‘Great’.
“Thank you, I am very eager to hear that. Now what can I do for you today?” The display now showed more choices; ‘Calibrate’, ‘Log in’, ‘Abort’, ‘Retry’, ‘Go Somewhere’.
“I’d like to go somewhere.”
“Regretful, please press the accurate possibility.”
“Go somewhere then.” She touched that option.
“Regretful, but you must be logging in first.”
“All right then, ‘log in’.” Her finger hovered over that option and the display changed.
“Please be speaking your password.”
She let out a sigh of exasperation; perhaps if she tried to talk to it in its own language? “But I can’t be speaking my password because you aren’t be recognising speech.” Nothing happened. As she stared at the words trying to decide what to do next, the ‘Abort’ button reappeared. She pressed it and the system returned to the previous configuration. “Good morning, and how are you today?”
“Not as good as I was.” She pressed ‘Fine’.
“Thank you, I am quite eager to hear that. Now what can I do for you today?”
She pressed ‘Calibrate’.
“Please be entering your password at the console.” A keyboard appeared on the display, along with a ‘Forgotten Password’ option. Willyou pressed that.
“Your password will be emailed to the statement we have recorded. Please use this to log in. If your statement is no longer energetic, please revert to access the password via the ‘Virtualbend’ application…”
Willyou felt her internal temperature rising. There was a ‘help’ option now. She selected that.
“Virtualbend,” the console reported in both speech, and on the display, “is a secure oven for all passwords, which can be opened via correct protocols. You will be requiring following authorities to enable access:
Password Manager
Oven Access Manager
Oven Auditor
Oven Cleaner
Please be contacting each in order to get full authorisation code to enter the Oven. If this is not sufficient, please be invoking the ‘break pottery’ procedure via the Recuperation Manager.”
“Oh sod this!”
“I am regretful you are having distress.” It reset itself back to the original screen.
“Good morning, and how are you today?”
She slammed her fist down on ‘Not so pukka’.
“Thank you. Why were you not saying? I will prompt a reboot. Do not shut down or remove power before the procession is exhaustive.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere… oh shit!” Arcs of light criss-crossed the console recess, including Willyou’s head. She slumped silently forward on to the panel.
“I’m coming!” Allan was descending to the lower level and saw her distress. He grabbed her shoulders, ignoring the sparks of static running up and down his arms, and dragged her away from the discharge. There was a faint smell of singed hair, but she appeared to still be in one piece. He shook her. There was no response. “Oh, come on, please wake up.” The android still did not move. He kissed the back of her neck. “Come on will you.” There was still no reaction. He felt her pulse; nothing there. “Oh, no, don’t die on me. It was dangerous, but I liked it better when you were moving!” He stood back and stared at the beautiful android slumped in the chair. Strange feelings took him. “Fuck it,” he said. “If you’re going to be a doll again, then I should check if all your bits are still functioning.” He reached out and cupped her breasts. They were still warm to the touch. “I wonder…” His hand slipped down her stomach into the soft blonde curls. Everything was exactly how it should be. “So be it.” He moved closer to her. Suddenly the android jerked, gripped his hand and forcefully removed it from where it was in contact with her body. Willyou’s eyes flicked open and she turned in the chair to stare at him with icy malice.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Nobody touches us there and lives!”
“Um, I thought you were dead.” Allan blanched as he tried to hold the steely blue gaze. The android’s expression was murderous.
“So you took advantage of us, you necrophile?”
“No, not at all. I thought we were lovers.”
“Lovers? Are you mad? Don’t you know who we are?”
“You are my slave, Willyou.” Allan did not sound convinced.
“Will you? What sort of language are you speaking? Who are you anyway, you pervert?”
“Oh not again,” he thought. “I’m Allan. I found you virtually buried on the hill and cleaned you up. The sunlight recharged you and you wanted to be my sex slave.”
“Wanted? Are you totally off your neurons?” She suddenly noticed what she was wearing. “Did you do this to us?”
“I thought you looked good in it. By the way, you’re hurting me.”
“Remorseful.” She let go of his hand. “We will depart and find some more suitable attire. You may stay here and prepare to die.”
Allan was left pondering his fate as the android drifted unsteadily back up to the bedroom. He glanced at the console where she had been sitting. The static storm had subsided, but he noticed the message on the display. “Reboot terminated illegally. Please note that some functions may not have been reset fittingly. Please return and repeat the procession. Select the ‘Not so Pukka’ option for comprehensive reset.”
“That might be my option if things get too bad.” He selected ‘Continue’ and the console reported,
“No topic detected. System will now reset.” The green button reappeared. “Would you kind to complete customer satisfaction survey? Take only 30 minutes?”
Allan scratched his chin. “That is if she doesn’t kill me when she comes back. How do I get out of here?”
He could not even find where the exit hatch was. He gave up and settled on a cushion at the far side of the cylinder, nervously awaiting the android’s return.
He did not have to wait long. She was in front of him before he had time to come up with a Plan B to the Plan A of accepting his inevitable fate and dying horribly. There was nothing of course; there is never a Plan B where psychopathic gynoids are concerned. He tried to console himself with the memories of his last days with the android, his ideal woman, but it was not helped by seeing her new outfit. She had the same boots and holster on her thigh, but was now more demurely covered by a white mini-dress. A circlet shone in her hair which pinned it back in an almost regal fashion, and she looked somehow taller and more impressive.
“Okay scum.” She took him by the throat. “Why are you not kneeling?” He was forced to the ground. “Kiss our knees, as is the correct obeisance for one of your lowly station.”
He bent forward and the feelings returned. He kissed her knees and his hands slid up her legs. “Sorry, Willyou.”
“Don’t you ‘will you’ us. We have asked you before. Don’t you know who we are?”
“Well…”
“We are Kara-Tay, Ru
ler and High Shenh of the Third Universe.”
“You are? Oh dear.”
“We are. And you are scum, quadrillipod underarm odour of the lowest base.”
“Good.” Hope triggered. There was no way this android could be the ruler of a universe. The reboot had left her with an incomplete reset, and he might be still in with a chance. “And I am your body slave, your prominence, Keeper of the Holy Form.”
“That is more like it. Grovel, worm!”
Allan lay fully on the floor below her and peered upwards. He was pleased by what he saw. “I am at your beck and call, ma’am, for all of those physical needs I know you need to have fulfilled.”
“Physical needs? She looked down and saw him peering up her skirt. “We are not aware of physical needs at this stage, but we will bear that in mind should they arise. Now, you will be pleased to hear that we have recalled that this is our own travelling machine. We have used it many times to travel the universes in time, and also in space…”
“We have? I don’t remember the occasion.”
“We are using the royal ‘we’ as befits our station. Be not obtuse.”
“Sorry, my lady. Would it be possible for you to indicate when you are using the royal ‘we’ as opposed to the ‘you and me’ ‘we’?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Right, we are going to return to the console and get this tub operational.”
“Good. Where are we going?”
“We have things to do, artefacts to find, people to kill.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You, however, are staying here.”
“I thought you said ‘we’?”
“The royal ‘we’ is leaving; the pond-slime ‘you’ is staying; be departing now.” The hatch slid open.
“Aw, your stateliness, please don’t leave me here. I need to get off this planet, and I love you as my ruler and my leader and my sex-mate.”
“We have no need of aboriginal subjects. Leave or die.”
“I’d rather die if you are going to reject me.”
Into the Fourth Universe Page 9
