by Pam Richter
After his sons left, Ferd tried to determine a way to obtain a woman to make his computer look more human. He needed an attractive young girl, but he could not tell her he was going to make a copy of her body and brain which would be immune to disease, enormously strong and equipped with a computer. Any rational person would think him insane and refuse.
Stephen and Alexander were right in saying that his computer could never be brought forth as the super human intellect of the century. She did have a nose, mouth, eyes, and some fuzzy baby hair, but she looked too abnormal for people to tolerate. Besides, Ferd wanted the absolute best for her. He had promised her beauty.
He thought that his computer might never age, so he had to find a woman at the onset of maturity. Then he looked at his two couches. One to put the baby-computer on, the other on which to place the person who was to be the form for the body. His mind twinkled and he had come up with the idea for the tanning salon.
Young mature people liked to be tan. So old people and children would not respond to an ad for a tanning salon. Ferd would need access to the person after the copying was done and the person would probably respond from the surrounding area. Making the experimental room look like a tanning salon was easy. Ferd put special filtered lights under the copying machinery. Ferd sent out fliers and people came to the salon and he gave them tans. He waited for the perfect physical specimen. Then Sabrina came in. She was so beautiful and graceful with her long lean body, maybe resembling what his little baby girl would have looked like when grown. Ferd liked to think so, anyway. When he had taken a blood sample after blowing down a sedative gas to put her to sleep, he was sure that she was healthy. She had a fast metabolism, but that was nothing to worry about. He had the perfect specimen and decided to go ahead with the copying process.
Ferd took his giant baby by the hand led her slowly into the tanning room. She had poor eyesight now, and she stumbled because she was so large that her body was ungainly, but she went placidly with Ferd. He had to strap her to the large couch and had given her a bottle of milk. She gave him a last painful smile as the large grotesque baby he had known. Then Ferd had injected her with a sedative and put up the sides all around the couch so that when the molecules moved there would be no spillage. During the copying process everything turned to a jelly-like substance and he did not want to lose any of the body's necessary components. Then he went upstairs to handle the machines.
From above he watched the baby's skin turn to a partial liquid substance. It was horrible because it looked just like she was melting down into a large puddle. He cursed himself for putting a baby through the awful procedure. He had to watch the meltdown for hours because he had timed this part of the procedure carefully. When molecules move quickly they generate a lot of heat. He had burned up a few of his copies for this very reason.
The whole process seemed to take aeons and he was stiff and could hardly make his crackling knees move when it was finally all over. But it was a success. His computer looked just like the original. Oh, there were a few differences. The original must have darkened her hair. There was a slight difference in the shape of the computer's head, but with the addition of hair, no one would ever notice.
Now the only thing Ferd worried about was the fact that the fast metabolism Sabrina possessed may have awakened her too soon. He was afraid his computer's brain might resemble one of man's wild ancestors.
CHAPTER 10
Sato Hashimoto ate a late breakfast in the penthouse suite of the Century Plaza Hotel, where he always stayed when in Los Angeles. He was weary because of the drastic time change, but he expected his staff in Tokyo to work California hours now, producing reports for him in the middle of their night.
He was satisfied with the periodic communications he was presently receiving from his Yakuza, who were busy spying, and from his personal staff, which was compiling information on Dr. Steinbrenner. He took a quick shower and dressed in the traditional white cotton Gi for his daily exercise.
Sato dialed the room where his bodyguards slept, barked, 'Now' into the receiver and hung up. One of his requirements when he hired men to protect him, was that they possess considerable expertise in Karate. He did not intend to be injured by a flashy hot-shot who could not exercise self-control. Hashimoto considered himself far too valuable to put himself in mortal danger. He traveled with five bodyguards and kept more men at home in Tokyo for his regular exercise. It was their duty to provide competition.
He opened the door and his men filed in, each wearing an identical white cotton Gi. They wordlessly removed the furniture from the sitting room. Then, lining up in front of Sato, they bowed in unison. He bowed briefly in return and then straightened, hands clasped behind his back, frowning at each man for an instant. It was at this precise moment that he would decide on his opponent. He looked over each man carefully, weighing individual abilities, and finally nodded at Kokuro, his most accomplished karate expert, who was still hindered slightly from their last bout.
The other men lined the walls. Sato would no more exercise without an audience than he would jump out of a plane. A little pain could overpower reason, and he had received a broken wrist on one occasion when a bodyguard in his own employ, crazed by an injury, had attacked him.
Hashimoto and Kokuro moved into the center of the room, bowed formally and slowly began circling. Sato's opponent opened the physical bout with a kick to Sato's sternum which would have killed him, forcing rib bones into his heart, if the man had not stopped within an inch of contact. Sato took advantage of the Kokuro's momentary loss of balance, while restraining the deadly strike, to punch at his opponent's neck. He made contact.
The exercise took the customary forty-five minutes and Sato's opponent did not once touch his flesh. Sato, on the other hand, did not have the proficiency or inclination to politely control himself, and although not one of his kicks or punches was excessively savage or brutal, the accumulation brought his opponent to the physical circumstance of having had an extensive beating.
Sato was not abiding by the traditional rules of the sport, but he thought his employees were adequately reimbursed. He expected their loyalty and considered it the most important quality of any employee. They would enjoy lifetime employment if they were faithful.
The bodyguards lining the walls were totally impassive, having witnessed this scene innumerable times, and having themselves been the victim of their employer's sadistic abuse.
When the match ended the men moved the furniture back into place and bowed before leaving Sato, assisting the injured Kokuro out the door.
In an excellent mood from his physical exertions, Sato bathed in a steaming tub of water. His assistant came in the misty vaporous bathroom and handed Sato a towel. He then gave Sato pictures of the Miller woman that his Ronin had taken the day before.
Sato lolled in the bathtub and had his assistant call Cedars Sinai hospital to inquire solicitously about Dr. Steinbrenner. The news was disheartening. The doctor was in stable condition but his doctors would not allow visitors.
Sato sighed regretfully. He might be forced to work with Dr. Steinbrenner's despicable sons, Alexander and Stephan.
* * * * *
The aroma filling Sabrina's apartment was maddening. It was excruciating. It was a warm, bedeviling smell that Eve thought would drive her mad. She went into the kitchen and opened the oven door. As the light went on, she saw the beautiful red color of the meat, surrounded by carrots and potatoes, and knew it must be cooked done. It was just losing its red liquid into the bottom of the pan, tiny drips that Eve watched with fascination and wanted to lick. She wondered about that cookbook. The roast had been in the oven for twenty-five minutes and it looked perfect. But the book said it was supposed to cook for two and a half hours. Either she had read the instructions wrong, or the weight on the package was incorrect, because any more time in that heat would surely ruin it.
Eve decided to taste it and had an impulse to pick the roast up and take a bite, just to see, but
thought that would be incorrect, undignified behavior. It was important to learn to act like people, even when she was alone, so the appropriate behaviors would become intrinsic. She got a knife and cut a small piece of the roast and used the fork.
Eve closed her eyes in bliss and slowly sank to a sitting position in front of the oven. She chewed slowly, eyes squinted, making small appreciative noises as she felt it slip down her throat. It was better than pizza. Better than cookies. Better than marmalade. She cut off another piece and blissfully chewed, with sounds of appreciation from her throat mixing with small happy growls and grunts.
She was reaching for the knife again and stopped abruptly. She was supposed to eat with Sabrina and Mark. She should not eat before them. But she wanted to. She wanted to eat the whole thing and then chew on the bone.
Eve turned the oven off. The cookbook had explained that some people liked their roast rare and some liked it well done, so she would let Sabrina decide when she came home.
To help forget her craving Eve took out the marmalade and finished it with a spoon.
Eve decided to make a couple of dresses. The idea came from a fantasy visualization that she knew must be Sabrina's. She needed something to do or she would go crazy from the enticing odors emanating from the kitchen. Then she would move all the furniture. She knew just how Sabrina wanted it. The thought entered her mind that she was not strong enough. That was Sabrina's thought also, because Eve knew she would have no problem lifting up the couch and placing it across the room.
When Sabrina opened the door that evening she almost backed out, thinking she was in the wrong apartment. She bumped into Mark and stepped on his foot. Then she peeped in again and recognized her own possessions. Fabrics were strewn all over the furniture, which had been totally rearranged in position. There were books from the shelves in her bedroom all over the living room floor. The television was on and Eve was sitting cross-legged in front of it. Eve seemed to be glancing from the television to a book in front of her. She was sewing something.
"Ouch," Mark muttered and grabbed his toe.
"Sorry." Sabrina entered and looked around.
Eve jumped up and nearly crashed into the ceiling. "The meat is cooked. And the dresses are on your bed, Sabrina."
Sabrina glanced around, dazed, and went into her bedroom. "Good grief, what a mess," Mark was saying, under his breath, as Sabrina gazed at the dresses on her bed. She knew her own styles, but these garments were not exactly the way she would have designed them. A pastel fantasy, the dresses were the most beautiful that Sabrina had ever seen. They appeared like beautiful gems on her bedspread.
"Wow!" Mark said.
"How beautiful." Sabrina lifted one of the dresses up.
"They're yours," Eve said from behind them.
Sabrina turned around and looked at Eve. "No. I mean the designs, yes. But your use of fabrics. The velvet with the cotton and satin. And the way you layered each piece of cloth. I never conceived of that."
"It didn't come from me. It's from your dreams, Sabrina. And you're upset about the apartment. I will fix it."
Could Eve possibly have access to her own dreams or subconscious thoughts? And if Eve did, would the it make her crazy if she couldn't distinguish dreams from real life?
Sabrina and Mark followed Eve back into the living room. Sabrina had never seen anyone move so quickly and precisely. It was as though Eve had suddenly gone into a fast-forward mode in a film. Or had become an automatic machine. She glanced at Mark, who was shaking his head. In less than a minute the apartment was immaculate.
"Shall we eat? Or would you like me to move the furniture back?" Eve asked.
"No. It's fine," Sabrina said. She went into the kitchen and started putting dishes on the table.
Mark opened the oven and pulled out the roast. "It's raw. Did you forget to turn on the oven, Eve?"
"It is cooked. I already tasted it," Eve said.
Sabrina went over to see. Mark had placed the roast on top of the oven. It had been cooked a little, but it would be very tough. Of course, maybe Eve's jaws were so strong that she didn't notice.
"Did you like it that...ah, rare, Eve?" Sabrina asked.
"It was the best thing I have ever tasted."
"Maybe Mark and I could put ours in the microwave and cook it a little more," Sabrina said tactfully.
"You like well done," Eve stated.
"Actually, I like rare also, but a little more cooked than it is right now, Eve." Sabrina exchanged perplexed glances with Mark.
"I can carve it," Eve said. "I studied how." She cut the tough, undercooked roast like it was butter.
Eve was having trouble controlling her body fluids and had closed her mouth just in time as she watched Sabrina put some pieces of the roast into the microwave and put some raw pieces on a plate for her.
The carrots and potatoes were fine, having been in a warm oven for a couple of hours and Sabrina distributed them on the plates and they all sat down.
Mark could not watch Eve eat the bloody meat. She was so obviously enjoying the raw stuff. He found it nauseating. Not that Eve was unmannerly. She ate just like Sabrina, whom he thought she must be copying, but there was something strange about her whole attitude, as thought she was starving and this was the last meal of a condemned person. Sabrina did not even seem to notice, just kept piling Eve's plate with more of the bloody stuff.
Mark felt more than ever that they should call the police and get rid of the strange human computer. He also thought that Eve was giving him very odd smiles, and he wondered just how much of Sabrina's memories Eve had received. Maybe she knew all about their most private moments. The whole thing was extremely disquieting. He wanted Sabrina to come home with him tonight, but she said she had to get ready for the commercial shoot so early the next morning it would be better for her to stay here. Which meant he would have a sleepless night because he was not going to leave Sabrina alone with the computer. How could he sleep with the strange computer in the same place, anyway? What if Eve went berserk in the middle of the night and used that big damn knife on them. He knew he couldn't stop her if she decided she wanted more raw meat. She was strong as an ox. How she had managed to move that couch was a mystery. There were no drag marks in the carpet. Probably picked it up and balanced the whole thing on the top of her head and waltzed it across the damn room.
"Mark?"
"Huh?" Mark said coming out of his thoughts.
"You're not too hungry?"
"No." Watching Eve eat had ruined his appetite.
"And Eve, I don't think you tried your wine," Sabrina said.
They watched Eve glance at Sabrina's glass, gauging how much she had consumed, and take two huge gulps. Immediately, large tears appeared in Eve's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She coughed a couple of times from the effect and said, "Wine is alcohol. I forgot. I will give mine to Mark."
Mark thought Eve gave him a leering smile as she handed him the wine glass. He almost shuddered when their hands touched briefly.
Mark was still hungry, but the meat on his plate appeared distasteful. "Maybe a little ice cream for desert?" he asked, knowing that Sabrina, always trying to gain weight, always had ice cream around.
"Okay. Would you like some ice cream for desert too, Eve?" Sabrina asked.
"No. I would like the bone for desert. Only if you don't want it."
"I don't want the bone."
"I thought you liked bones, Sabrina."
"The meat around the bone is very good."
Mark and Sabrina watched as Eve took the bone out of the pan and placed it on her plate. She neatly licked her fingers and sat down.
Sabrina went to the refrigerator to get the ice cream when she heard a gigantic crack. She turned around and saw that Eve had taken an enormous bite of the bone. It sounded like she was eating potato chips, but a lot louder.
Mark was reminded of pictures of wolves savagely crunching bones. At least Eve was not growling, slavering and tearing chunks of mea
t from the bone. But he was repulsed. It partly had to do with the noise. The sounds of eating a bone simply could not be hushed.
Sabrina made up dishes of ice cream as though nothing unusual had happened. The crunching was so loud that it was impossible to talk for a while, but that was fine because Sabrina could think of nothing but the spectacle of Eve chewing on the huge bone. She was worried that Eve might break her teeth or cut her mouth. Evidently she was chewing it well because it seemed to take an awfully long time for her to consume it.
When Eve finished she patted her mouth with a napkin daintily and put her dish into the sink.
"I was a little worried that you might hurt yourself."
"I got lots of minerals. Calcium, magnesium, iron and potassium. I guess people don't eat bones often, but I distinctly knew about eating them. I have a memory of it."
Sabrina wondered if Eve was getting her own memories, but distorted in some way. The dresses Eve had made were Sabrina's designs, but nothing like the finished product she had envisioned. Now Eve had strange ideas about eating.
"I have never eaten a bone, so the idea didn't come from me."
"I remembered the joys of bones when Morris was eating this morning. He was crunching on his food."
"Did any other thoughts come to you?" Sabrina asked.
"No. But when I was eating it, I received memories of chasing, fighting and killing. Killing for food. For meat. I remembered the exhilaration of the chase, and the thrill of eating the kill."
Sabrina and Mark exchanged worried glances. The situation was getting very weird.
"Close your eyes and go back to that memory, Eve."
Eve obediently closed her eyes and then nodded. "Yes. There is a gang, a tribe of people. They stay together for protection, building fires at night to keep predators away. And they hunt together for food. I remember this—not in a clear way. It is a very distant memory."
