“I’ll be careful,” I agreed.
“And you be careful, Minerva—because you are going to need Dora’s good will much more than she will need yours. You may know far more than she does—I’m sure you do. But you grew up to be chief bureaucrat of a planet while she grew up to be a ship . . so what you know doesn’t count—once you are aboard.”
“I can learn,” Minerva said plaintively. “I can self-program to learn astrogation and shiphandling at once, from the planetary library. I’m very bright.”
Lazarus sighed again. “Ira, do you know the ancient Chinese ideogram for ‘trouble’?”
I admitted that I did not.
“Don’t bother to guess. It’s ‘Two Women Under One Roof.’ We’re going to have problems. Or you will. Minerva, you are not bright. You are stupid—when it comes to handling another woman. If you want to learn multiple-spaces astrogation—fine. But not from a library. Persuade Dora to teach you. But never forget that she is mistress in her own ship and don’t try to show her how bright you are. Bear in mind instead that she likes attention.”
“I will try, sir,” Minerva answered him, with humility she rarely shows to me. “Dora wants to get your attention right now.”
“Oh-oh! What sort of mood is she in?”
“Not a good mood, Lazarus. I have not admitted that I know where you are, as I am under a standing instruction not to discuss your affairs unnecessarily. But I did accept a message for you without guaranteeing that I could deliver it.”
“Just right. Ira, the papers with my will include a program to wash me out of Dora’s memories without touching her skills. But the trouble you started by grabbing me out of that flophouse has spread. She’s awake with her memories intact, and she’s probably scared. The message, Minerva.”
“It’s several thousand words, Lazarus, but the semantic content is short. Will you have that first?”
“Okay, the summary meaning.”
“Dora wants to know where you are and when you are coming to see her. The rest could be described as onomatopoesy, semantically null but highly emotional—that is to say, cursing, pejoratives, and improbable insults in several languages—”
“Oh, boy.”
“—including one language I do not know but from context and delivery I assume tentatively that it is more of the same, but stronger.”
Lazarus covered his face with a hand. “Dora is cussing in Arabic again. Ira, this is worse than I thought.”
“Sir, shall I replicate just the sounds not in my vocabularies? Or will you have the complete message?”
“No, no, no! Minerva, do you cuss?”
“I have never had reason to, Lazarus. But I was much impressed by Dora’s command of the art.”
“Don’t blame Dora; she was subjected to a bad influence when she was very young. Me.”
“May I have permission to file her message in my permanents? So that I may cuss if needed?”
“You do not have permission. If Ira wants you to learn to cuss, he’ll teach you himself. Minerva, can you arrange a telephone hookup from my ship to this suite? Ira, I might as well cope with it now; it won’t get better.”
“Lazarus, I can arrange a standard telephone hookup if that is what you want. But Dora could speak to you at once via the duo in your suite that I am now using.”
“Oh. Fine!”
“Shall I supply her with holographic signal, too? Or is sound enough?”
“Sound is enough. More than enough, probably. Will you be able to hear, too?”
“If you wish, Lazarus. But you can have privacy if that is your wish.”
“Stick around; I may need a referee. Put her on.”
“Boss?” It was the voice of a timid little girl. It made me think of skinned knees, and no breasts as yet, and big, tragic eyes.
Lazarus answered, “Right here, baby.”
“Boss! God damn your lousy soul to hell!—what do you mean by running off and not letting me know where you are? Of all the filthy, flea-bitten—”
“Pipe down!”
The timid-little-girl voice returned. “Aye, aye, Skipper,” it said uncertainly.
“Where I go and when I go and how long I stay are none of your business. Your business is to pilot and to keep house, that’s all.”
I heard a sniffle, exactly like a small child sniffing back tears. “Yes, Boss.”
“You were supposed to be alseep. I put you to bed myself.”
“Somebody woke me. A strange lady.”
“That was a mistake. But you used bad language to her.”
“Well . . I was scared. I really was, Boss. I woke up and thought you had come home . . and you weren’t anywhere around, not anywhere. Uh . . she told on me?”
“She conveyed your message to me. Fortunately she did not understand most of your words. But I did. What have I told you about being polite to strangers?”
“I’m sorry, Boss.”
“Sorry doesn’t get the cows milked. Now adorable Dora, you listen to me. I’m not going to punish you; you were wakened by mistake and you were scared and lonely, so we’ll forget it. But you shouldn’t talk that way, not to strangers. This lady—She’s a friend of mine, and she wants to be your friend, too. She’s a computer—”
“She is?”
“Just as you are, dear.”
“Then she couldn’t hurt me, could she? I thought she was inside me, snooping around. So I yelled for you.”
“She not only couldn’t, she would never want to hurt you.” Lazarus raised his voice slightly. “Minerva! Come in, dear, and tell Dora who you are.”
My helpmeet’s voice, calm and soothing, said, “I’m a computer, Dora, called ‘Minerva’ by my friends—and I hope you’ll call me that. I’m terribly sorry I woke you. I’d be scared, too, if someone woke me like that.” (Minerva never has been “asleep” in the hundred-odd years she’s been activated. She rests each part of herself on some schedule I don’t need to know—but she herself is always awake. Or awake so instantly whenever I speak to her as not to matter.)
The ship said, “How do you do, Minerva. I’m sorry I talked the way I did.”
“I don’t remember it, dear, if you did. I heard your skipper say that I transmitted a message from you to him. But it’s erased, now that it’s been transmitted. Private message, I suppose.”
(Was Minerva truth-saying? Until she came under Lazarus’ influence I would have said that she did not know how to lie. Now I’m not sure.)
“I’m glad you erased it, Minerva. I’m sorry I talked to you that way. Boss is sore at me about it.”
Lazarus interrupted. “Now, now, Adorable—stop it. We always let water over the bridge lie where Jesus flang it; you know that. Will you be a good girl and go back to sleep?”
“Do I have to?”
“No. You don’t even have to place yourself on slow time. But I can’t come to see you—or even talk to you—earlier than late tomorrow afternoon. I’m busy today and will be househunting tomorrow. You can stay awake and bore yourself silly any way you choose. But if you whomp up some fake emergency to get my attention, I’ll spank you.”
“But, Boss, you know I never do that.”
“I know you do do that, little imp. But if you bother me for anything less than somebody trying to break into you or you catching on fire, you’ll regret it. If I can figure out that you’ve set yourself on fire, you’ll catch it twice as hard. Look, dear, why don’t you at least sleep whenever I am asleep? Minerva, can you let Dora know when I go to sleep? And when I wake up?”
“ertainly, Lazarus.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can bother me when I’m awake, Dora, other than for real emergencies. No surprise drills—this is not shipboard routine; we’re dirtside and I’m busy. Uh . . Minerva, how’s your time-sharing capacity? Do you play chess?”
I put in, “Minerva has ample share-time capacity.”
But before I could add that she was Secundus Champion, Unlimited Open Handicap (with a handicap o
f Q, Q’s B, & K’s R) Minerva said: “Perhaps Dora will teach me to play chess.”
(Well, Minerva had certainly learned Lazarus’ rule for telling the truth selectively. I made note that I must have a serious private talk with her.)
“I’d be glad to, Miss Minerva!”
Lazarus relaxed. “Fine. You gals get acquainted. So long till tomorrow, ’Dorable. Now beat it.”
Minerva notified us that the yacht was no longer patched in, and Lazarus relaxed. Minerva dropped back to her record-keeping role, and kept quiet. Lazarus said apologetically, “Don’t be put off by her childish manners, Ira; you won’t find a sharper pilot, or a neater ship’s housekeeper, between here and Galactic Center. But I had reasons for not letting her grow up in other ways, reasons that won’t apply when you take over as her master. She’s a good girl, she really is. It’s just that she’s like a cat that jumps into your lap the instant you sit down.”
“I found her charming.”
“She’s a spoiled brat. But it’s not her fault; I am practically all the company she’s ever had. I get bored by a computer that just grinds out numbers, docile as a slide rule. No company on a long trip. You wanted to speak to Ishtar. About my househunting, I think. Tell her I won’t let it interfere with routine—I just want a day off, that’s all.”
“I’ll tell her.” I turned to the Administrator for Rejuvenation and shifted to Galacta—asking her how long it would take to sterilize a suite in the Palace and install decontamination equipment for watchstanders and visitors.
Before she could answer, Lazarus said, “Wups! Hold it one fiddlin’ moment. I saw you palm that card, Ira.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“You tried to slide one in. ‘Decontam’ is the same word in English as in Galacta. Not that it was news to me; my sense of smell isn’t that dead. When a pretty girl leans over me, I expect to smell perfume. But when I can’t even smell girl and do smell germicides—well, ipse dixit and Q.E.D. Minerva!”
“Yes, Lazarus?”
“Can you spare me some shared time to give me a refresher while I’m asleep tonight in the nine hundred basic words of Galacta or whatever number it takes? You equipped for it?”
“Certainly, Lazarus.”
“Thanks, dear. One night should do it, but I’ll appreciate vocabulary drill each night until we both think I’m up to adequate proficiency. Can do?”
“Can do, Lazarus. And will do.”
“Thanks, dear, over and out. Now, Ira, you see that door? If it doesn’t open to my voice, I’m going to attempt to break it down. If I can’t, I am going to check on whether or not that suicide switch is really hooked up—by trying it. Because, if that door won’t open, I am a prisoner, and any promises I made on your assurances that I am a free agent are not binding. But if it does open to my voice, I’ll bet you whatever you like that there is a decontam chamber beyond it, staffed and ready to function. Say a million crowns to keep it interesting? No, you didn’t flinch; let’s make it ten million crowns.”
I trust that I did not flinch. I have never had that much money of my own, and a Chairman Pro Tern gets out of the habit of thinking about his own money; there is no need to. I had not asked Minerva about my personal balance for some time. Years, perhaps.
“Lazarus, I won’t bet. Yes, there is a decontam setup outside; we tried to protect you from possible infection without bringing it to your attention. I see that we have failed. I haven’t checked on the door—”
“Lying again, Son. You’re not good at it.”
“—but if it isn’t keyed to your voice now, it is my oversight; you’ve kept me busy. Minerva, if the door to this suite is not keyed to the Senior’s voice, correct it immediately.”
“It is keyed to his voice, Ira.”
I relaxed when I heard how she phrased it—perhaps a computer that had learned when not to be bluntly truthful was going to be still more of a helpmeet.
Lazarus grinned diabolically. “So? Then I’m about to test out the super-override program you were a bit hasty in giving her. Minerva!”
“Awaiting your orders, Senior.”
“Key the door to my suite so that it opens only to my voice. I’m going out and sashay around—while Ira and these kids stay locked inside. If I am not back in half an hour, you can unlock them.”
“Conflict, Ira!”
“Carry out his orders, Minerva.” I tried to keep my voice low and even.
Lazarus smiled and stayed in his chair. “No need to show openers, Ira; there is nothing outside I want to see. Minerva, you can put the door back to normal—let it open to any voice, including mine. Sorry about that conflict, dear; I hope it didn’t burn out anything.”
“No harm done, Lazarus. When I was given that super-override instruction, I increased the overload tolerances on my problem-resolving network.”
“You’re a smart girl. I’ll try to avoid conflict in the future. Ira, you had better remove that super-override; it’s not fair to Minerva. She feels like a woman with two husbands.”
“Minerva can handle it.” I assured him, more calmly than I felt.
“You mean that I had better handle it. I shall. Did you tell Ishtar that I’m going househunting?”
“I didn’t get that far. I was discussing with her the practicability of your living at the Palace.”
“Now, Ira—Palaces don’t appeal to me, and being a house guest is still worse. A nuisance both to host and guest. Tomorrow I’ll find a residential hilton that doesn’t cater to tourists or conventions. Then I’ll run out to the skyport and see Dora, and pat her rump and get her calmed down. The next day or so I’ll find a little house way out in the suburbs, one automated enough to be no problem—but with its own garden. Got to have a garden. I’ll have to bribe somebody to move; the house I want won’t be standing empty. Do you happen to know how much I still have in Harriman Trust? If anything.”
“I don’t know but that’s no problem. Minerva, set up a drawing account for the Senior. Unlimited.”
“Acknowledged, Ira. Completed.”
“Completion noted. Lazarus, you would not be a nuisance. Nor will you find it palatial as long as you avoid the public rooms. As I always do. Nor will you be anyone’s guest. It’s called the ‘Executive Palace,’ but its official name is ‘The Chairman’s House.’ You will be in residence in your own home. I will be the guest, if anyone.”
“Hogwash, Ira.”
“True, Lazarus.”
“Quit juggling words. I would still be a stranger in a household not truly my own. A guest. I don’t buy it.”
“Lazarus, you said-last night”—I remembered just in time the missing day—“that you can always do business with anyone who is acting in his own interest and says so.”
“I think I said ‘usually’ rather than ‘always’—meaning that we could then look for a way that would serve both of our self-interests.”
“Then hear me out. You’ve got me tied down with this Scheherazade bet. As well as a research to find something new to interest you. Now you’ve dangled bait under my nose that makes me want to migrate as soon as—well, as soon as possible; it won’t take long for the Trustees to turn me down concerning a migration of the Families. Grandfather, it’s nuisance enough to chase over here every day; I don’t hanker to trek way out into the boondocks, the commuting would waste what little time you have left me for work. Besides that, it’s dangerous.”
“Living alone? Ira, I’ve lived alone many times.”
“Dangerous for me. Assassins. I’m safe at the Palace; the rat who can find his way through that maze hasn’t been born. I’m reasonably safe here inside the Clinic, and I can get back and forth in safety, subject only to whims of automatic machinery. But if I make a daily pattern of going to an unfortified house somewhere out in the suburbs, then it is only a matter of time until some crackpot sees it as an opportunity to save the world by picking me off. Oh, he would not live through it; my guards aren’t that inefficient. But if I persist in s
etting myself up as a target, he might get me before they get him. No, Grandfather, I do not choose to be assassinated.”
The Senior looked thoughtful but not impressed. “I could answer that your safety and convenience have to do with your self-interest. Not mine.”
“True,” I admitted. “But let me offer what bait I can. It’s in my self-interest for you to live in the Palace. There I can visit you in perfect safety, even safer than I am here, and commuting becomes a matter of seconds, negligible. I can even ask you—there—to excuse me for a half hour if something urgent comes up. That defines my self-interest. As for yours, sir—would you be interested in a bachelor’s cottage, rather small—four rooms—and not especially modem or luxurious but set in a pleasant garden? Three hectares, but only the part close to the house is gardened, the rest has been allowed to grow wild.”
“What’s the catch, Ira? How modem is ‘not especially’? I did say ‘automated’—as I am not yet in shape to do for myself—nor am I patient with the vagaries of servants or the whimsical uncertainties of robots.”
“Oh, this cottage is sufficiently automated; it simply does not have a lot of fancy extravagances. No servants needed if your tastes are simple. Would you permit the Clinic to continue to stand watches on you if the watchstanders are as pleasant, and as pleasantly unobtrusive, as these two?”
“Eh? These kids are all right, I like them. I realize that the Clinic wants to keep an eye on me; they probably feel that I’m more of a challenge than a client only three or four hundred years old. That’s okay. But you pass the word that I expect to smell perfume, not germicides. Or reasonably fresh body odors; I’m not fussy. I repeat, what’s the catch?”
“The hell you aren’t fussy, Lazarus; you delight in thinking up impossible conditions. This cottage is rather cluttered with old-fashioned books; the last tenant was eccentric. Did I mention a little stream running through the grounds, one which opens out into a small pool near the house?—not much, but you can take a few strokes in it. Oh, I forgot to mention an old tomcat who thinks he owns the place. But you probably won’t see him; he hates most people.”
Time Enough for Love Page 13
