“Thanks.”
“Are you going to introduce me?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. This is Amanda. Amanda, Don.”
“Nice to meet you, miss.”
She smiles, but says nothing. A gentle nod conveys her shy attempt at introductions.
“I was wondering,” I say, “If you have a batch of tea around, and an infuser.”
Don grins. “I can let you have my infuser, and print off some more later. You used all of that tea already?”
I point to Amanda, and she elbows me in the side.
“Just a second.” He disappears into the small shack near the boxes for a moment, and returns with a steel can, and one of the little mesh balls dangling from the end of a chain. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” says Amanda. “I love this stuff. You should open a store in the boutique.”
“I’m afraid that my entrepreneurial inclinations have faded with age. I rather it just for myself and my friends.” He winks. “So. Tell me about this new job of yours.”
***
In Amanda’s apartment, she brews a couple of cups under my guidance, to learn the procedure, and we sit on the couch.
“If you have a minute, I want to show you this program I’ve been working on. I’m not sure if I was inspired by your tablet, or whatever, but all of the code just came to me. Then, last night, writer’s block. I can’t see it anymore, and I’m not even sure exactly what I’m looking at here. It’s weird. It was so clear, and now it’s gone. Mind taking a look?”
“Sure.” I scan through, and it matches the code that Bee has so potently installed in my brain exactly. The program is mostly finished. A tweak here and there, and it’ll be working. It can even work on an isolated machine without invading the network, if the proper care is taken and the machine is capable. The only question left is where to find a machine that isn’t intimately tied to a network protocol. After fixing a few bugs, I sip my tea, which has grown cold, and scroll back up.
“You snapped out of it, huh?” asks Amanda. The feed on the wall is playing one of her shows, and pauses.
“Out of what?” As soon as the words leave my lips, I can almost hear Bee in my head, saying “what, what, what.”
“You went potato brain on me for a minute. It’s okay. You think the program will work? It’s like an artificial mind.”
I stare back at the display on her coffee table, noting the filename at the top: Cody.
“I’m sure it will. We just have to keep it out of trouble.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There are so many people who are worth thanking that it would be impossible to list them all. To all the people who helped me spread the word about the original novellas, mainly my friends Nick, Mazi, and Kieth. Viral Spark drove me into this writing career in a lot of ways, and I appreciate all the support. Love you guys. To my cover designer and friend, Austin Dellamano: never give up on your dreams, and I’m sorry for all the nit-picky headaches that I gave you.
It’s been a ride, and I hope it will continue. To my family, friends, old neighbors from Louisiana, my author friends, writefarmlive blog followers, my twitter family, and everyone else. This one’s for you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Martin McConnell holds a Physics degree from SIUE, and when he isn’t writing speculative fiction, he’s motivating other authors, stargazing, reading, or playing Kerbal Space Program. He avidly encourages everyone to seize control of their dreams by driving their own plot. You can find him on twitter @spottedgeckgo, or at his website writefarmlive.com. If you would like to receive updates on his future projects, send him an email at [email protected]
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