by E. M. Foner
Lynx bit back a barbed reply as the logic of her partner’s statement sank in. She had never thought of artificial persons as being delicate, and now that she thought about it, she had no idea what alien weapons might do to them. It was entirely possible that the high-tech body A.P. occupied was far more vulnerable to attack than her own self-repairing, if crude, biological form.
“If things got really rough, you wouldn’t, uh, pull me in front of you as a shield, would you?” Lynx asked, crossing her fingers as she spoke.
“Of course not,” A.P. replied. “We’re partners. And besides, my Stryx mentor made a new image of my mind when I upgraded bodies. It’s on file at the AI administration. They hold the new loan on this body, of course, and since I don’t have a do-not-reanimate order, the Stryx would reload me when they became aware I had terminated. But that would mean another starter-body and a second mortgage, not to mention losing the memory of you,” he added with a wink.
Lynx didn’t know if A.P. was breaking his rule about not making passes at human females, but she had to admit he had a way with words.
Ten
Aisha still felt uncomfortable sitting at Kelly’s display desk with Donna in attendance, but the older woman insisted that the temporary acting junior consul had seniority over the mere embassy manager, at least when it came to furniture. The display desk showed the floor plan of the Nebulae room at the Empire convention center, and the two women were trying to solve the puzzle of assigning floor space to alien vendors without causing a bloodbath. Aisha just prayed that the spy hardware displayed would be long on surveillance and short on weaponry.
“Who would have thought we could run out of space in the Nebulae room?” Donna marveled. “It looks like we’ll need to take part of the main lobby for overflow. I checked with Empire’s management and they’re happy to cordon off some space and rent it to us. All of the adjoining spaces are reserved for other events, and I couldn’t talk any of them into changing dates.”
“Did you check above or below?” Aisha asked. “Paul once mentioned to me that the station decks are constructed around the spokes, none of the interior walls are structural. Gryph doesn’t care if the tenants put in temporary stairs between decks as long as the lease holders in both spaces approve.”
“That never occurred to me,” Donna admitted. “Libby? Could you tell us who leases the space above and below the Nebulae room?”
“Just a sec,” the Stryx librarian replied, displaying yet again her growing propensity to adopt human mannerisms around humans, even though she must have known the answer before Donna asked the question. “The space below is a Fillinduck mating sanctuary. I can’t imagine they’d be willing to clean out all of the Rinty bubbles just to rent it for a few days. The space above is a Vergallian dry goods warehouse.”
“Forget it,” Donna said to Aisha. “I’ve seen Rinty bubbles, they take forever to cultivate, and you know Kelly would rather hold the trade show in Mac’s Bones than ask a favor from Vergallians.”
“Well, maybe we’ll have enough space with the lobby,” Aisha replied. “I still can’t believe what a huge response we’ve gotten without even advertising. It’s enough to make me believe the aliens really are spying on us.”
“It’s going to be a bigger show than the Earth Expo we put on a couple years ago, and that broke our previous record by a factor of ten,” Donna said enthusiastically. Special events were her favorite part of the job, and she still ran a monthly program of human dance mixers under the aegis of the EarthCent embassy. “Better yet, with those numbers you worked up for booth rentals, we’re going to turn a tidy profit on the show. The petty cash fund is watering at the mouth.”
“We may as well get started solving this puzzle,” Aisha said hesitantly. “I asked Kelly to stop by later to review the booth map. I’ve seen the seating problems that come up at all the multi-species meetings, and I don’t want half of the vendors playing musical chairs on set-up day.”
“Stanley used to manage gaming conferences and trade shows all the time,” Donna reassured her. “He says it’s just like laying tile. Of course, I’ve never laid tile, but he explained you start in the middle of the room and work your way out. Oh, and since the vendors all have different area requirements, we’re supposed to assign the spaces for the largest reservations first, and then use the smaller booths to fill in gaps and fit around the edges.”
“That sounds smart, and I’ve listed the requests in order of the space they require,” Aisha said, holding up her personal note tab. “I guess the vendors have all been through this before since they seem to know exactly what they want.”
“Yes, but Kelly tells me they usually set up at military shows or industrial conferences,” Donna replied. “She asked around and nobody remembers a trade show just for spy stuff.”
“I’m not really that good with the display desk, that’s why I used my tab for the list,” Aisha admitted. The truth was, she avoided touching the desk altogether for fear she would break something, and she had only been using it as a display. “Can I read off the vendors and their space requirements, and you arrange them?”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Donna replied with a grin. “I love arranging things. Shoot.”
“Horten Protection Professionals want sixteen folds,” Aisha started. “That’s four folds more than the next vendor. By the way, what’s a fold?”
“A folding table,” Donna told her. “According to Stanley, it’s one of the only universal standards in the galaxy. And he said that anyone requesting four folds or greater expects the tables to form a rectangle or a square with an open space at the center. Sixteen folds will get the Hortens a four-by-four square, plenty of room for a few rows of chairs in the middle if they’re staging a presentation for groups. I’ll put them in near the center of the room.”
“Why not dead center?” Aisha asked.
“If you put the biggest booth dead center, it reduces the maximum amount of space left available to the sides, so you lose flexibility,” Donna explained. She outlined the space on the display desk with a finger and keyed in the identification of the vendor. “It probably won’t matter in this case if there aren’t many big booths, but it’s sort of a rule-of-thumb.”
“Next is Drazen Security Associates, they want twelve folds,” Aisha read, then paused as Donna entered the reservation on the display desk. “Verlock Safety Equipment also wants twelve folds,” she continued, and watched again as Donna placed them on the floor plan. “Dollnick Nest Defense requested twelve folds too. Hey, I didn’t notice before, but all of these businesses use a synonym for protection or defense in their names. They’re really not the nasty types I was afraid a spy show would draw.”
“Hmm, let’s wait and see what they’re selling before we jump to conclusions about their intentions,” Donna replied. “Any more twelve fold customers?”
“No, it drops to eight from here,” Aisha said, checking her list. “The Careful Consortium requested eight folds, no idea what species they are.”
“There are plenty of multi-specie businesses in the galaxy,” Donna remarked. “Kelly says it’s all part of the Stryx plan to keep the peace. Who’s next?”
“Knock, knock,” Kelly said, walking into her own office. “Look who I brought to visit.”
“Hi, Sammy,” Donna rose from her seat beside the display desk and took possession of the baby. “Oh, you’re a cutie. Are you being a good baby and always smiling when my Blythe is around?”
“Do you think that will make the difference?” Kelly asked, flattered by the idea that Donna was depending on her son to tempt Blythe into motherhood.
“Every bit helps,” Donna sighed. “With her new job and all, I’m afraid she’s going to keep making excuses.”
“Blythe has a new job?” Aisha asked. “I thought she just left on another management recruiting trip for BlyChas.”
“Right,” Donna replied quickly. “That’s what I meant, a new task. She’s been staying away longer and
longer on these trips, though at least now she has Clive along to keep her company.”
“I hope she’s back in time for our show,” Aisha said. “Not that she’s likely to have any interest in spy stuff, but I wanted to show her that I’m not so naïve anymore.”
Donna held up her index finger and then bent it towards her ear, a sign that she was accepting an incoming ping over her implant.
“It’s Horten Protection Professionals, they’re calling about their booth request,” Donna announced, looking flustered. “Should I patch it through the system?”
Aisha looked to Kelly, who pointed back at Aisha and said, “I’m on leave until after the show. This is just a visit.”
“Uh, yes please, Donna. Patch it through,” Aisha said, sounding a bit flustered herself.
“Manager Gantha, here. Horten Protection Services. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” the voice came over the room speakers. Now Donna and Kelly both pointed at Aisha.
“Uh, Aisha McAllister, temporary acting junior consul for EarthCent,” the girl replied with trepidation. “How can I help you?”
“The space you’ve assigned to us won’t do,” Gantha asserted flatly. “Either move us another fold towards the core, or move the Dollnicks a fold out. And our invoice doesn’t show a twenty percent discount for renting the largest booth.”
“We just began assigning the spaces, the plan isn’t finalized yet,” Aisha protested. “And I haven’t posted the invoices yet, it’s just a number on my tab.”
“A number without a discount,” Gantha asserted. “We have a saying on Horten, a stitch in time saves aggravation. That’s all for now.”
The three EarthCent employees gaped at each other as the call disconnected. Aisha reached for her tab, then pulled her hand back as if she was afraid it would get burned. Kelly started to call for Libby, but restrained herself just in time. She was still on maternity leave, after all. Donna looked at the display desk suspiciously.
“Libby?” Aisha asked timidly, after she realized the older women weren’t going to take over for her. “Is this office secure?”
“I monitor the EarthCent office at all times,” Libby replied. “If there was an imminent threat I was aware of, I would notify all three of you immediately.”
“No, I wanted to know if our equipment is secure,” Aisha followed up a little more assertively.
Donna stopped playing with the baby’s toes for a moment, held up an index finger and pointed at her ear again. This time Aisha nodded without being asked.
“First Officer Nunch of Verlock Safety Systems,” the hidden speakers boomed. “The Careful Consortium has been infringing on our intellectual property for aeons, we have pending litigation in Thark Chancery.”
“And so?” Aisha asked, not bothering to identify herself.
“And so you must move our booth closer to the main entry than theirs,” Nunch explained slowly, though he had been drafted from among his Verlock associates to make the call as their fastest speaker. “You can just swap our current booth assignments.”
“Uh, thank you for calling,” Aisha responded, making a cut-throat gesture at Donna, who broke the patch.
“Libby?” Kelly asked, no longer able to contain herself. “How many alien species have my office bugged?”
“That’s really not the sort of information I can share with you,” the Stryx librarian replied. “If we started providing free security services for humans, everybody else would be rightfully angry. But Gryph predicted this question would come up, and he suggested I compromise by telling you that the list of local species who aren’t bugging your office would be much shorter than a list of those who are.”
“Is it permitted to ask who we might hire to sweep the bugs?” Kelly asked icily.
“Certainly,” Libby replied. “Answering the questions of station tenants is my main job. In your case, I would recommend Drazen Security Associates, and they would probably do the job in return for a discount on their booth rental at your show. If you want to keep it private, I suggest visiting Ambassador Bork at his home and asking him to expedite your request.”
“Now the Horten is going to call back insisting on a bigger discount than the Drazens,” Aisha said in dismay.
“Don’t worry,” Libby told her. “I block all the eavesdropping when I’m involved in the conversation.”
“So how about staying around and chatting for a while?” Kelly asked craftily.
“Sorry,” Libby responded. “I promised Gryph to be good. Call me if you have a legitimate question.”
“Well, that was an interesting conversation,” Donna ventured, handing the baby back to Kelly. “What a well-behaved boy he is,” she added.
Aisha looked at the display desk, looked at the ceiling, and waved her hand slowly back and forth like she was greeting somebody on the deck above.
“New rule,” Kelly declared. “Until I talk with you-know-who and get an exterminator to come in and clean up all the bugs, we have to assume that everything we say and do in the office is being recorded. Use your judgment over whether to discuss sensitive topics here or whether it would make more sense to simply go for a walk and talk in a public place. Though for all we know, there could be bugs on our persons. I’m beginning to look forward to this show, it could be very educational.”
“But how can we finish planning it with everybody listening in?” Aisha asked in distress.
“Think of it as a conference call,” Kelly told her. “It’s not like booth assignments and catering arrangements are vital EarthCent security concerns.”
“Actually, this could work out in our favor,” Donna added. “We could have the first multi-species trade show in station history where everybody agrees on the floor plan ahead of time. And you know how tough it is ordering food for mixed crowds. In fact, when we finish with assigning the booths, I’ll come back in and read the catering proposals.”
“I knew all of this spying stuff was nasty,” Aisha grumbled, picking up her tab again. “The Grenouthian Bramble Weavers request eight folds.”
“The bunnies went in two-by-two. Hurrah, Hurrah,” Donna began to sing for the baby as she outlined a section on the display desk. “The bunnies went in two-by-two. Hurrah, Hurrah.”
“The Grenouthians went in two-by-two, the Vergallians and the Hortens too,” Kelly improvised on the children’s tune.
“And they all went into the ark, for to get out of the rain,” Aisha came in for the big finish.
“Gem Internal Security wants six folds,” Aisha reported, when the women stopped laughing.
“This is going to be tough,” Donna muttered, studying the map. “No matter where I put them, somebody is going to complain.”
“How about the lobby?” Aisha suggested.
“The aliens went in six-by-six. Hurrah. Hurrah,” Kelly sang, beginning a slow waltz around the office holding Samuel. “The aliens went in six-by-six. Hurrah. Hurrah. The aliens went in six-by-six, they can hear me now, thanks to the Stryx, and they’re all coming to our show, but I think they’re a pain.”
“This is why they invented maternity leave,” Donna observed. “Did you really just think that up for the sake of annoying Libby? And don’t you want to go visit you-know-who about you-know-what?”
“Oh, right,” Kelly said. “Samuel and I know when we aren’t wanted, don’t we, baby? I’ll see you at home later, Aisha, after I talk to you-know-who. Carry on.”
Eleven
“Are you sure she’s asleep?” Lynx whispered to her partner after the two of them returned to the bridge of the Prudence. “It’s kind of eerie how one second she was talking and moving around, and the next second, she was out.”
“It’s not really sleep,” A.P. explained. “Activity of any kind burns energy, which costs creds to replace, and we don’t derive any physical or mental benefit from living on partial power. In Chance’s case, she’s had a really rough time and she ran her back-up cell down too far to restart the reaction easily. That’s th
e reason she was willing to let me hold it as a guarantee she wouldn’t just run off with our money. By the time we come out of the tunnel at Corner Station, she’ll have enough charge stored up to negotiate a loan and start all over again.”
“I really feel sorry for her,” Lynx admitted. “It never occurred to me that an artificial person could end up down-and-out like that.”
“It can happen to anybody,” A.P. replied, shaking his head sadly. “Bad choices, bad timing, a fuel cell failing in the wrong place. You have to remember that common sense and sentience aren’t related. One of the reasons you don’t see more AIs than biologicals in the galaxy is that most of us are inherently unstable. You won’t read this in the textbooks, but taken as a group, artificial intelligences are usually flawed idealizations of the species that create us. Without millions of years of natural selection to sort out the useful characteristics from the destructive ones, we tend to have issues.”
“Well, she could always start a new career as a drug buyer,” Lynx declared, examining the stash of transparent sleeves Chance had purchased. “I can’t believe the Farlings make so many products for humans when we’ve only been in space for a couple of generations.”
“The Farlings are the galaxy’s bio-specialists, they’ve seen it all. I don’t know anything about manufacturing pharmaceuticals myself, but I’ll bet that once they got access to the human genome, they just tweaked the products they already have for species with similar susceptibilities, did a little testing, and pushed them out on the market.”
“Ooh, I’ve seen this red-and-white striped stuff before at parties,” Lynx exclaimed, holding up a sample. “The kids call it ‘barber pole’ or ‘candy cane.’ It’s really expensive.”
