by E. M. Foner
Assisted Living
Book Two of EarthCent Universe
Copyright 2019 by E. M. Foner
One
“You don’t have to scrub so hard,” Harry told his assistant. “Let the pan soak overnight and that Sheezle bug residue will dissolve on its own.”
“Where did you learn about all this alien stuff?” Bill asked, letting the pan drop to the bottom of the double sink. “I left Earth almost a year before you did, but you’re the one who’s always explaining things to me.”
“Cleaning the crud off baking pans doesn’t require advanced alien technology, and everything I teach you is based on my experience running a bakery back on Earth. I’d like to think I have something to show for the fact that I’ve been alive almost fifty years longer than you have. Everything takes time.”
“I don’t know. I like working with you in the kitchen and with Razood in the blacksmith shop, but the other day he told me that Frunge apprentices are expected to assist for seven years before they’re allowed to forge something on their own. I’ll be old by then.”
Harry laughed. “You’ll still be in your twenties. Come down to our independent living cooperative for movie night and I’ll show you what old means.”
“What’s a movie?”
“Like an immersive, but without the holograms or the sensory input.”
“You mean like the advertisements Flower runs on the display panels in the corridors?”
“Exactly, but longer, and the stories are usually better than commercials. Jack got us started on watching movies that were made on Earth nearly two centuries ago. They’re so old that the color has faded out.”
“They were filmed in black and white,” Flower interrupted by way of a speaker grille in the ceiling. “Don’t teach the boy wrong.”
“Why didn’t they use colors?” Bill asked.
“At first because they didn’t know how, and for decades after that, because it was too expensive,” the Dollnick AI explained. “And I should point out that working for Razood wasn’t my idea.”
“He’s a great guy, for an alien spy, I mean.”
“If your goal in life is to be a blacksmith’s assistant for a twenty-one-year apprenticeship and then to set up your own forge, it makes perfect sense to continue working there. But Razood only earns a living thanks to a generous stipend from the sponsors of Colonial Jeevesburg. I’m sure you’ve noticed that most of his customers are actually from the other species.”
“Flower has a point,” Harry said. “You know that the Frunge live much longer than we do, and Razood probably doesn’t realize that within a few years you’ll be a father with your own responsibilities. That Julie girl seems nice.”
“We’re just friends,” Bill said, feeling his face grow warm. “I mean, we went on a sort of a date in the amusement park last weekend, but I got motion sick and threw up on her new sneakers. I’ve been going to work early and doing my calisthenics at the blacksmith shop so I don’t have to face her in the corridor.”
Harry laughed again and put a hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Women don’t care about things like a little vomiting. They want a man who is confident and listens to them. Hiding from her is the worst thing you can do.”
“Harry’s right,” the Dollnick AI said. “That’s why I’ve decided to make you a partner in my new business.”
“What?” Bill looked back and forth between Harry and the ceiling. “What new business?”
“Package delivery. You’ll be the junior partner.”
“I don’t know anything about package delivery.”
“Pick up that oven mitt and hand it to Harry,” Flower ordered. Bill followed the instructions and gave his boss the oven mitt. “Now you’re a package delivery expert,” the ship’s AI continued. “The rest is back-office work and shipping, two fields in which I excel.”
“I know you’re usually right about stuff, Flower, but learning to be a blacksmith has got to be more interesting than handing people packages.”
“It will be your own business—our own business. In addition to earning real money, I’ll teach you about marketing, cash-flow management, customer service, scheduling—everything you need to be an entrepreneur.”
“Would I have to quit my part-time jobs working here and with Razood?”
“Not immediately. I’m planning a soft launch so it will take a while for the business to scale up.”
“Can I think about it?” Bill asked.
“I’m not seeing the executive decision-making ability I expected,” Flower replied. On receiving no response, the AI added, “Julie will be impressed if you go into business with me.”
“All right, already. When do I start?”
“At the next stop. I’m about to begin running ads on Bits where we’ll undercut the established package delivery services by fifty percent, so we should get plenty of customers.”
“What are you going to name it?” Harry asked, recalling how the Dollnick AI had ignored the voting process for the independent living cooperative he was a member of to name it Flower’s Paradise.
“Next Stop Deliveries. What do you think?”
“Catchy. How did you come up with that one?”
“It’s literal. We’ll be delivering packages to the next stop. That’s the secret of my business model.”
“You mean we’re starting a package delivery service that only delivers to one place?” Bill asked skeptically.
“One place at a time,” Flower corrected him. “In cases where the shipper can afford to be patient, I’ll be happy to store the packages for free as long as they’re going to a later stop on our circuit. I expect we’ll get some commodities business that way.”
“What are commodities?”
“Lumber, ore, cereal crops. I plan to start a furniture-moving service as well. There’s great synergy with the ads I’m already running for the independent living cooperative.”
“How so?” Harry asked.
“Ever since the Galactic Free Press published the first article about your group getting scammed and starting your own independent living cooperative, I’ve noticed that most of the queries about joining include questions about moving personal belongings. It’s surprising to me how much junk your people can accumulate in such short lifetimes.”
“Maybe we’re trying to compensate.”
“You’re doing a good job of it. If you can dispense with Bill’s help for the rest of the day, I’d like to take him down to Deck Three and show him the area I’ve set aside for the new business.”
“Isn’t Deck Three used by the distillery?” Bill asked. “I remember drinking something at The Spoon that tasted like paint thinner.”
“You’re thinking of Deck Three vodka,” the AI said. “It’s distilled on the water treatment deck, between the filtration system and solid-waste processing digesters. I like keeping all of the stinky businesses in one area, but my Stryx mentor cautioned me against using ‘sewage’ in liquor branding.”
“Glad I don’t drink,” Harry said. “Sure, take him. I was going to spend the afternoon experimenting with recipes from the new All Species Cookbook and I’m a bit self-conscious about making anything new with somebody looking over my shoulder.”
“Keep an eye out for any baked goods with a long shelf life.”
“Another business idea?”
“You probably heard that your former co-species, the Alts, have joined the Vergallian Empire. Their ecosystem was transplanted from Earth when the Stryx moved them to their own planet, so their agriculture is largely compatible with Human digestion.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“It’s terrible. When I began this mission three years ago, I converted a substantial part of my own agricultural capacity to your cr
ops and fruiting trees in order to cash in on visits to Human colonies that haven’t ramped up production of fresh food. With competent business management from Vergallian royals, the Alts will be in direct competition with me.”
“Can’t you just plant something else?” Bill asked.
“Crop rotation in space isn’t as simple as you might think, and I have several decks of fruit trees that I started from seeds to save money, so they’re just beginning to produce. The orchards that supply your current needs were transplanted as young trees.”
“Are you running out of money?” Bill asked. “Is that why you’re starting new businesses?”
“My legal proceedings are costing somewhat more than the initial estimates,” Flower admitted. “Now hop in the nearest lift tube and we’ll get started.”
Bill left the kitchen through the small cafeteria that the Dollnick AI had set aside for aliens traveling by themselves and entered the nearest lift tube. The capsule barely got started before it stopped again, and the doors opened on a familiar corridor.
“This isn’t Deck Three,” Bill observed. “Am I going to the library to see Julie?”
“Julie’s internship is in the mornings, just like your apprenticeship with Razood. You’re here to see the Farling doctor.”
“What did I do now?”
“It’s not a punishment. If we’re going to be working together you’ll need an implant. I can’t be discussing business with you over the nearest speaker grille when anybody might be listening in.”
“How much is this going to cost?” Bill asked cautiously.
“Nothing, it’s a loaner. If we dissolve our partnership, I’ll take it back.”
Bill approached the familiar door to the med bay, which slid open when he drew near. He passed through the entry scanners, and not seeing the giant beetle anywhere, called, “Hello?”
“He’ll be with you in a minute,” Flower announced. “Try practicing the eye chart while you’re waiting.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”
“That wasn’t the doctor’s conclusion the last time you were here.”
“But it’s in some alien language I can’t read.”
“All the more reason to practice.”
While Bill was trying to make sense of this latest piece of advice, the padded top of the examination table began to go up with a creaking noise, and a giant beetle emerged from the hidden cavity like a vampire rising from his coffin.
“Did somebody beat you up again?” the Farling doctor rubbed out on his speaking legs. “I don’t see Julie with you so I assume you’re here for yourself.”
“I brought him, M793qK,” Flower announced. “We’re going into business together and I want you to give him an implant.”
“We’re already in business together,” the doctor said.
“Not us—Bill and myself. We’re starting a package delivery service.”
“Let’s see. I removed an implant from a woman who was complaining about headaches just before I left for my all-too-brief visit to Union Station. That implant is probably still in the medical waste bin if your bot didn’t take out the trash last week.”
“No way,” Bill said. “You’re not putting a second-hand implant in my brain.”
“I’ll rinse it off first,” the doctor offered, rummaging through a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Deck Three vodka. “This will kill the germs.”
“He’s teasing you,” Flower reassured the young man, who had begun backing towards the door. “Give him the same type of implant you gave Julie, Doctor.”
“A high-grade unit with the separate subvocalization pickup? You can explain to me what makes him so valuable as a business partner while he’s under the anesthetic.”
“You’re going to knock me out?” Bill asked.
“I could do that too,” the doctor said, retrieving a heavy mallet from a drawer of tools. “Lie down on the table first so I don’t have to pick you up.”
“You’re scaring him now,” Flower scolded. “I’m not going to allow M793qK to hit you with a hammer, Bill. Just lie down on the table.”
The Farling made a show of reluctance putting away the mallet, and then growing impatient with Bill’s hesitation, picked the young man up and deposited him on the operating table.
“This isn’t going to hurt me a bit,” the doctor continued, pushing Bill’s head down. “How long can you hold your breath?”
“I don’t know. Thirty seconds?”
“Start now, and in thirty-one seconds, I’ll operate.”
Bill reflexively took a deep breath and began to hold it, but he watched carefully to make sure that the mallet didn’t reappear. The beetle retrieved a sealed plastic envelope from an organizer with a hundred little drawers that looked like it belonged in a home workshop and waved it in front of the patient.
“Brand new merchandise. Only the best for paying customers. Are you unconscious yet?”
“No,” Bill exhaled. “Was that really supposed to work?”
“Holding your breath until you pass out? It will be the first time for me if it does.” The doctor tore open the plastic package and used a giant pair of tweezers to transfer the smaller of the two metallic components into the magazine of a pistol-like device brandished with a fourth limb. “Close your eyes and count to three.”
“Do I have to do this?” Bill asked the ceiling.
“Follow the doctor’s orders,” Flower replied.
Bill closed his eyes and counted out loud. “One. Two.” A loud pneumatic sound interrupted him and he felt a slight sting in his throat. “Three.” The last number blasted through the speaker grille Flower had activated to communicate with them. “Three,” he repeated. “Hey, is that me? I’m talking through the speaker. That’s so—”
“Subvocalization pickup diagnostic complete,” the Farling said, and suddenly Bill’s voice was coming only out of his mouth. “Close your eyes again and count to ten.”
“Ten? What are you going to do with all that time?”
“Shave your head, cut a hole in your skull, and connect the translation implant to your brain and your nerves.”
“Can you really do that in ten seconds?”
“Just close your eyes and count.”
“One. Two. Three. Fah—ah—ah—ah—choo!”
“That’s disgusting,” the doctor said, waving the giant tweezers covered with the effluent from Bill’s sneeze in front of the young man’s face. “I’m going to have to sterilize these twice.”
“You stuck something up my nose!”
“It’s the best shortcut to the brain I’ve worked out for your species. I used to pop out an eye and go in through the socket, but I got too many complaints.”
“I don’t believe you can get to my brain through my nose.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, but—”
“I rest my case,” M793qK interrupted, tossing the tweezers into a sink. “Now I’m going to take off your ear cuff translator and we’ll run a couple of tests.”
“Be careful with that. The captain loaned it to me.”
Bill flinched as the giant beetle loomed over him and reached for the side of his head with a pair of limbs. The familiar pressure from the ear cuff vanished, and the doctor rubbed something out on his speaking legs that sounded like a dentist’s drill in action.
“Nothing?” Flower inquired. “The nanobots haven’t attached the leads to the auditory nerves yet. It can take a few minutes.”
The doctor picked up an external translation box and hung it around what passed for his neck where the carapace narrowed near the top. He began buzzing his speaking legs again.
“As far as I’m concerned, Bill can leave now. I’ve done thousands of these nasal implants and they’ve never failed yet.”
“How long until everything is connected?”
“The implant will be burrowing around in there for a while trying to find a good spot to settle. It takes longer with Humans because they
have so much empty space between their ears.”
“Did he say I can go?” Bill asked, swinging his legs down from the table. “Thanks for the implant, Doc, but I can’t imagine why Julie likes you.”
“She has exquisite taste,” the Farling replied. “Good luck in your new business, Flower. Let me know if you want the implant repossessed.”
“I will,” the AI said. “Let’s get moving, Bill. We have a lot to do today.”
Immediately after the door closed on the doctor’s office, the young man asked, “Why does he have to be so rude? I’d like to punch him, but I’d probably break my hand on his carapace, and then he’d refuse to fix it.”
“M793qK? He never turns down a paying customer, he’d just charge extra. I could have had a bot install the implant for you but I find that your people prefer the doctor’s bedside manner.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s all threats and insults.”
“He’s an expert at keeping his patients distracted so they don’t worry about the procedures, and he’s fast enough that most of them are out the door before they have a chance to be scared. I’ve been told that I tend to over-explain things.”
“By who?”
“People who run screaming from the operating room when I show them holographic recordings from similar procedures I’ve done in the past,” Flower said. “It’s very strange, really. Dollnicks prefer learning all of the facts before undergoing surgery, but of course, they’re designed much better than you are so medical services are rarely needed.”
“I feel kind of light-headed,” Bill said, as the capsule came to a stop. “Do you think the doctor might have broken something in there?”
“It’s the angular acceleration. Your weight on Deck Three is a fraction of Earth normal, call it twenty-eight percent as I know how much your species hates decimal places. You won’t need magnetic cleats to move around, but you’ll have to be very careful or you’ll—” Flower paused for a moment as the young man almost did a somersault attempting to step out from the capsule, “—end up breaking something and be right back in the doctor’s office. Try shuffling rather than striding.”
