Hair Suite

by Piers Anthony

  “Okay.”

  “There's something I need to know. Tell me what you see.”

  “Okay.”

  Do it, Chip, he thought.

  Chip drew again from his mind. The paperclip lifted from his hand and hovered in the air before his sister.

  “That's a neat trick!” Lorna said.

  “Take it.”

  She snatched it out of the air. “What, no wires?”

  “It's telekinesis.”

  “Don't pull my leg, brother dearest. It's too thin.” She lifted one bare leg.

  “It's slender. It's a nice leg. If I was a teen boy I'd stroke it and get all worked up. Most girls are too fat.”

  “Are you trying to distract me? How did you move that paperclip, really?”

  “You really did see it move?”

  ”Of course I saw it move! That's the point of the trick, isn't it? Now tell me how you did it. Remember, I promised not to tell.”

  “It really was telekinesis. That's the secret. I'm having trouble believing it myself. That's why I want your help.”

  “My help with the trick?”

  “Your help in enabling me to verify exactly what I have. To shore up my own belief.”

  “Levi, you're getting strange. Maybe you better focus on eating now.” She brought the bowl of soup close and dipped the spoon.”

  “We'll talk while you feed me.”

  And they did. He told her, between mouthfuls, of his vision of the flying chip, and how it had lodged in his ear, and claimed to have cured his CIDP. “I don't know if I believe it myself,” he concluded. “Can you think of any test that would falsify it?”

  “Let me work on that.”

  He waited one minute. Sure enough, then she had an answer: “Clairvoyance. Can you do that?”

  “Can I?” he asked Chip.

  “Yes, to a degree. I can use magnetic interactions with gravity waves to determine the placement of objects in other areas. That requires less energy than physically moving something. In fact I can connect to your visual perception in the brain to enable you to do it now.”

  “Okay, Lorna,” he said aloud. “I may be able to do clairvoyance. Set up something I can't see, in another room, and I'll either know it or not know it. That's the proof.”

  She nodded and departed. He concentrated on following her with his mind. And it came! The image was fuzzy, but clarified as he concentrated. Chip was orienting on the interplay between the forces of gravity as her body moved, and magnetism as the fields intersected each other, forming a traveling outline. He saw her image with increasing definition after she left the room. He knew he could not do this himself, but Chip was showing him what he would be able to do as he developed the necessary perceptions. His mind filled in obscure details, because she was a familiar figure, but he was not imagining this; he was seeing her in his mind.

  She went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. Then she stripped naked, faced away from the door, bent over, and mooned it. Levi smiled; she wasn't showing him anything he hadn't seen before. She was a bold, provocative girl, and she was filling out nicely.

  After which she dressed again, took a pencil and paper, and wrote THIS STATEMENT IS FALSE. He smiled again; she was really trying to foul him up by doing something un-guessable. She did enjoy mind games.

  Then she fetched her purse, fished out three coins, and set them on the dresser: a dime, a nickel, and a penny. She left them there for a count of ten, then put them back in her purse along with the message. Finally she opened the door and went back downstairs. “Well?”

  “First you mooned me,” he said, smiling. “I wish I had a girlfriend with as nice an ass as yours.”

  She froze, trying not to give anything away. “And?”

  “Then you wrote THIS STATEMENT IS FALSE and put it in your purse. It's there now.”

  “And?”

  “You put a dime, nickel, and penny on your dresser, then removed them.”

  She sat down, looking faint. “You did see. You couldn't have, but you did. Unless you've got my room bugged.”

  “Believe me, I don't. I'm not trying to spy on you. I just want to know if what's happening to me is real.”

  “It looks from here as if it's real.” Then she thought of something else. “Could it be mind reading? You followed my mind?”

  “Could it?” he asked Chip.

  “No. Chips can't do telepathy, because we're not living things and the forces we use interfere with living mental projections.”

  “Chip says no. so it has to be clairvoyance.”

  “This Chip—can I see it?”

  “No,” he said, speaking for Chip. “Once it entered my ear, and connected to my brain, it became enmeshed, and can't readily withdraw. That's why it was cautious about commitment; it didn't want to be locked into a poor host.” He smiled. “It says I'm a good host, fortunately.”

  “You said it talked to you when it sat on your hand. Can it talk to me if I hold your hand?”

  “It can if your mind is completely open and unguarded,” Levi said. “But it is intensely intimate.”

  “What, like sex?”

  “More so than sex. It's a two way connection.”

  She laughed. “Let's find out.”

  They tried it. “Yes, I am Chip,” it told her. “Thank you for your help.”

  “How do I know you're not sucking out my poor brother's brains?”

  “I am opening my mind,” Chip replied. “Read it.”

  Lorna dived fearlessly in. Levi felt her entering the mind of the alien chip, like a soldier charging an enemy bunker. She paused, experiencing the contact. “It is like sex!” she thought. “Only better.”

  So she was sexually experienced. Levi hadn't known. But he was right: bodily intimacy was shallow compared to mental intimacy.

  Much of it was complicated, but the essence was plain: Chip was here to help Levi. With such intimate contact there could be no deception.

  “And what's in it for you?” she demanded.

  “My association with Levi will enable me to function competently in his world, and accomplish my purpose here.”

  “Which is?”

  “Aligning this world with the Chip Sphere of Influence.” And Chip sent a generalized impression of the way stellar spheres operated.

  She was relentless. “What's that going to cost Earth?”

  “Nothing. It is merely an alignment. Vaguely similar to a friendship.”

  “You will fix Levi and give him special powers for nothing?”

  “Nothing other than that.”

  “This is crazy, but I believe you.”

  “It is intimate, not crazy. Direct mental contact promotes belief.”

  Lorna removed her hand. “And I'll keep my smart mouth shut,” she said in wonder. She glanced at Levi. “And so will you.”

  “Agreed.” They would keep each other's secrets.

  Thereafter Levi improved rapidly. His family marveled, but Lorna took it in stride. “I knew he had what it took,” she said. “Levi's strong.”

  They let it be, glad to see him surviving.

  “Then came Burn,” he said.

  Ch

  apter 3

  Burn

  Burn had always been smart and feisty. That made her unpopular with some in the ghetto, but she got along, once she learned how to fight. She could wield her knife with deadly precision; no bully tried her a second time. She did uncommonly well in classes; there was an education to be had, even in an F rated school. The teachers took to her, as she never sassed them and never tried to cheat; she represented living proof that good could sometimes if rarely come of the system.

  As she matured physically the boys got interested, and she dated a bit, but was really more interested in the academic side. She was ordinary rather than pretty, and knew that any boy who got the one thing he wanted from her would soon move on. She would have been glad of a relationship had there been any further meaning to it. She understood that in college folk w
ere interested in mind as well as sex; that prospect interested her. Body and mind.

  Then her luck turned. She was eighteen and applying to community college, walking there alone when there was an incident. It was a routine drive-by shooting, as an automatic weapon peppered a building, shattering the glass windows. One bullet struck her neck and she went down, conscious but helpless. Her primary thought was annoyance: she had been so close to making it out of the ghetto, when this ill chance took her out the wrong way. She knew she was not the target; she just happened to be there when it happened. Collateral damage.

  The ambulance took her to the hospital. The triage doctor took one look and pronounced the verdict: her wound was inoperable. Any attempt to remove the bullet would kill her. As it was, she was paralyzed but alive.

  Damn damn damn! she thought as she lay there. Everything gone in an instant. Instead of forging to success, she would be a helpless cripple the rest of her probably short life. All she could do was cry.

  Then in the chamber where they had parked her as they moved on to more urgent cases, something touched her.

  I CAN HELP YOU. DO YOU ACCEDE?

  There followed a mental dialogue that led to the flying metal worm wriggling into her ear. Then she lost consciousness as it got to work on her brain and nerves.

  Her recovery was remarkable, but no one noticed; she was just a largely anonymous black girl, victim of an incidental shooting that turned out to be not as bad as first thought. Soon she was out of the hospital, as they did not keep destitute victims any longer than they had to. She was taken home, where she continued her improvement.

  The Chip, as it turned out, focused first on the almost-severed spinal cord, goosing the surrounding nerves to grow vigorously, forming a bypass. Once that was established, so that she recovered full control of her body, the flesh around the embedded bullet formed a fistula that slowly forced the bullet out. Then it closed the gap and healed it so that no evidence of the original wound remained.

  Burn remained in recuperation. She took walks to deserted alleys where she could develop her new abilities. Her senses became acute; she could literally see around corners. She could levitate without wings by learning to control magnetic repulsion. There was no downdraft, no noise; she merely countered gravity in her immediate locale just enough to become light, only a fraction of her normal weight, and then the magnetic lines propelled her where she chose to go. She also became tough where she wanted to be, so that her flesh was like hard leather, able to withstand ordinary blows or stabs.

  She also became more shapely. She had never been a really bad looking girl, just plain, but now her hips flared, her waist narrowed, and her bosom swelled. Her face subtly reshaped to become more attractive. She wore loose hair and loose clothing to mask it, but the fact was that she was now a bombshell.

  As her health and control continued to improve, she moved to secure her privacy and her finances. She needed to move out of her home before the extent of her improvement became evident. She did not want to attract attention.

  So she went to the local bank and asked to consult with a financial adviser. She met with Monroe, a tall white man who masked his suspicion that she was wasting his time, in part because she let him see enough of her body to make the interview interesting. She had done her homework, and knew that he had an eye for the women, especially the young ones, of any color, but was not interested in any open relationship, lest it somehow sour his reputation for fiscal integrity. He was mainly a frustrated window shopper.

  “And what can I do for you, Miss Burn?” he inquired. His eyes were already into the window shopping.

  “I figure to come into some money, maybe a lot, and I need to know how to manage it, sir,” she said.

  “And what would be the source of this money? An inheritance?”

  “No. I figure to get it by gambling.”

  Monroe shook his head. “This is not advisable. You are far more likely to lose whatever little you have saved.”

  She hesitated, then decided to trust him. “I am not an ordinary ghetto girl. I have special powers I don't want others to know about.”

  “Miss Burn--” He broke off, because she was flashing him with a provocative view down inside her shirt. She had the stuff, and was using it.

  “Maybe I can show you, if you promise not to tell.”

  The man smiled, embarrassed. “You have shown me. But this will not gain you any fortune, appealing as I confess it is.” He was honest about his interest, since it was clear that her flash was deliberate.

  “I mean this.” She glanced at his desk. A pen lifted into the air.

  Surprised, he took hold of it. “This is a, a magic trick?”

  “Sort of. I am telekinetic.”

  He knew the word, of course. “You can manipulate objects with your mind?”

  “Yes.” And she demonstrated it further, moving other small objects on his desk.

  “This intrigues me, Miss Burn. I do not believe in supernatural powers, but am unable to fathom the mechanism you employ.”

  She smiled. “Have you a private room we can go to? No cameras or whatever? I think I can satisfy you about my legitimacy.”

  He considered briefly. “You will show me the mechanism if I agree not to tell others?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He conducted her to a private chamber deep within the bank. “This is secure.”

  “Then watch.” She slipped out of her clothing, standing naked.

  “Miss Burn!” he protested, though his eyes were taking in her perfect figure.

  “To show there are no strings attached,” she explained. “When I move things with my mind.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  There was a table with a small flower vase. “Watch.”

  He wretched his gaze off her body and looked at the vase. It lifted slowly into the air, hovered, then as slowly sank back down.

  “This is amazing!”

  “That's not the half of it. Watch.” Now she lifted herself into the air.

  His eyes threatened to bug out, and not just from her demonstration of levitation. She bounced a little in the air, making her flesh ripple slightly. Then she floated across the room to him. “Catch me, sir.”

  He put out his arms, and she settled into them. “Oh, my,” he breathed.

  “Here's the deal, sir. You teach me how to handle money, don't tell about my telekinesis, and this body is yours while we're together. I am of age, as your records show, and I know what I'm doing, and I can keep my mouth shut. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he breathed, stunned.

  “Starting now,” she said. “Lay me on the table.”

  In moments they were having emphatic sex on the table. Then they got dressed and returned to the front office, where he laid out the foundations of proper money management and gave her some related literature.

  It was the beginning of a mutually satisfying and strictly off the record affair.

  Burn's next stop that day was at the nearest casino. First she asked to see the manager. “I figure to win some money today,” she said. “But I'll give it back, if you want.”

  “Exactly what are you here for?” the manager asked.

  “I can telekinetically control the placement of the roulette ball. Since this is cheating, I wanted you to know.”

  “This is not the approach of a cheater,” he said dryly. “What is your real purpose here?”

  “I want a well-paid job.”

  He laughed. “I think that concludes our business. Go and spin the wheel.”

  She shrugged. “I will.”

  She went to the roulette wheel, knowing the manager was watching via the house surveillance system. She placed a bet on a particular slot, then carefully guided the ball to fall into the slot, winning. She let in ride for the next spin, and won again.

  When she won the third time, the manager showed up in person. He did not say a word, merely watched.

  When she won the fourth time, he lifted his hand
. “I think you have made your point. Keep your winnings, but stop playing. Show me how you are doing it.”

  She obliged, and the manager was inducted into the secret. That was the beginning of another mutually beneficial off the record association, as she was able to pretty much guarantee that no one else was cheating, and to identify any who did. She learned to play other games, not for pleasure, but to know how cheating occurred, so she could mess it up.

  She brought the money to Monroe to invest, sharing another hot session in the private chamber. Thereafter she had no money problems. She set up in a small private apartment, preferring to stay mostly out of sight, attracting no attention. By days she worked at the casino, and her nights came to be in Monroe's apartment. She had a key and would sneak in, so that no one knew he had a girlfriend. The fact was, she rather enjoyed her sessions with him; he was a decent man, and gentle, and she rather liked the sex, too, now that it was part of a larger relationship. She practiced flying there, and other developing abilities, and Monroe watched and never told. In fact he loved it when he lay on the bed and she floated over him and slowly settled onto him, nude.

  Then Levi found her. “Hello, fellow Chip Monk,” he said quietly as she shopped for groceries.

  She pretended not to hear, but as soon as she got to her car she gestured him in. “And who the hell are you?” she demanded, shaken.

  “Did you think you were the only one with a Chip?” he asked. “This is bigger than both of us. I am Levi, another Chip Monk. My Chip knew that another Chip was staking out the hospital, so I checked their records and discovered a miraculous recovery that could not be explained by traditional medicine. You.” And he explained about the spheres of influence, and how their job was to set things up for the eventual formal recognition of the Chips on Planet Earth. How the first Chip had been fashioned on Earth by focused signals from worm holes, and then made copies of itself to find local life form hosts such as the two of them.

  It was plain that he knew what he was talking about, and when she touched his hand their two Chips established a rapport: they were two of a kind, though also different because the natures of their hosts affected them just as they affected the hosts; it was a two way interaction. The Chips were not telepathic, but direct physical contact enabled close understanding. “Like a land-line instead of radio,” Levi explained, using an archaic analogy.