Rory wiped his nose clean and looked away, out at the wide stretch of sand leading to the white waves breaking silently in the distance, too far away to be audible. “You sure I can’t have those panties?”
“I’m sure.”
Rory resumed the eating of his burger, taking a small bite off one side and chewing slowly and without his former zeal.
“So what about you?” Danny asked. He forked several large bites of spinach and salmon into his mouth. “You’re the consummate bachelor. You’re young, good looking, and rich.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because it’s true. You can have any woman you want.” Danny gobbled several long skinny fries. “You got any irons in the fire?”
“Not really. I’ve been spending so much time at the office. I haven’t really had time to get out and date.”
“Is that because of Melinda?”
Rory didn’t respond.
“It’s natural to be gun shy.”
“You ever been divorced?”
“No.”
“Ever spent three years in a loveless marriage?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell could you possibly know about it?”
“I’m just saying it’s natural to be. . .” Danny searched for the right word. “. . . hesitant. I’ve never been married. Like you said. But I can imagine that it would be difficult to start dating again. Especially after trying so hard the way you did only to have your love not returned.”
Rory inserted a square of deep-fried pizza into his mouth.
“There must be somebody you’ve got your eye on.”
Rory’s head swiveled as a pair of girls rolled by on old-fashioned roller skates, which gave them the appearance of floating.
Rory set down his burger. “Well, there is one woman. But I’m not sure she’s interested. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s interested in somebody else.”
“You like her?”
“I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Long enough.”
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever been in love.”
“But you’re in love with her.”
Rory merely shrugged and stared at the limp remains of his burger.
“You need to go after her,” said Danny. “You owe it to yourself.”
“But if I like her, but she likes this other guy, and he likes her, shouldn’t I stay out of it? Shouldn’t I keep my mouth shut? And go back to banging surfer girls?”
“How many surfer girls have you banged?”
“Zero.” Rory sat forward, his elbows on the table, his shoulders slouched.
“You gotta go after her.”
“I don’t want to get in the way. She deserves to be happy. So does the other guy. Lucky fuck.”
“Do you know him?”
Rory spit a morsel of food onto his plate. “No. I don’t know the guy. But from what I hear, he’s the best.”
“Then at the very least, tell her how you feel and let her decide. What choice do you have? You can’t go the rest of your life wondering about what might have been. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that regret sucks. It’s better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all, to spend your life wondering about what could’ve been. Nobody’s perfect, certainly not me, but in my experience it’s better to regret the things you did do than to regret the things you never did.”
Rory stared levelly at Danny, watching Danny eat fries and push large forkfuls of spinach salad into his mouth. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know what they say: All’s fair in love and war.”
~
Danny and Rory made their way back to Canary Tower. Behind them, in the distance, the massive Ferris Wheel perched on the pier, slowly revolving.
Rory slapped at the yellow button to activate the crosswalk. He hit it again. Hard.
“Easy,” said Danny, “the machine doesn’t care how badly you want to cross the street. It has a job to do.”
“And what job is that?”
“Getting you safely across the street.”
“I don’t need a machine to tell me what to do,” said Rory.
“We could jaywalk.”
“That reminds me, Tim told me about this guy, Larry, who started working in our company. Roboticist. Graduated Cal Tech. Now he works in plastics. Anyway, Larry was out one day having lunch and he ate some bad Japanese food. Tim said that Larry thought it may have been cat meat. With Teriyaki sauce. Whatever it was, it didn’t agree with poor Larry. By the time he was leaving the restaurant, bad things were happening in his bowels. Finally, he was standing here, right here, on this very corner, waiting to cross the street. But he had to wait for the machine to tell him when it was safe to cross. Larry didn’t want to have an embarrassing accident so he took it upon himself to cross the street at a time when he deemed it safe to do so.”
“He crossed?”
“He crossed. He got into Positronic right over there . . .” Rory pointed to the restaurant. “But he had to wait in line to get a token for the bathroom. But the line was out the door, and then he had to buy something, since the restrooms are for customers only. He didn’t have any cash because he’d spent it all on the anomalous cat meat. So he bought a pizza he didn’t want, spent something like a hundred bucks, and finally got to the bathroom. But the door was locked because it was occupied. So you know what happened?”
“What?”
“He shit himself.”
“No shit.”
“Actually, lots of shit. He had to drive home with his poopy pants staining the seat of his brand new car, a Mercedes, I think. When he got home, he burned his pants, tossed them straight into the incinerator, which his fiancée was none too happy about because those pants had been a gift from her and she’d paid something like five hundred bucks for them at some boutique on Rodeo. Then he had to have a brand new car seat installed in his Merc, because they couldn’t get the shit stain out of the upholstery. Tim said Larry said that if he’d gotten a leather interior, it would’ve been fine. But he chose the cloth interior instead. So, bam! It was something like five thousand bucks or some outrageous bullshit number for the new seat.”
“Damn.”
“And you know what the best part is?”
“What?”
“When he jaywalked across the street, the traffic surveillance cameras saw the whole thing and were able to identify him because he helped design the facial recognition software. A couple hours later he got a fine for the jaywalking and had to take more time off work and go all the way downtown to the county courthouse and stand in line for five hours in order to pay the fine.”
“How much was the fine?”
“I forget. It was something like five hundred bucks. Oh, I remember: it was five hundred and forty. That’s right. And all together, the little jaywalking foray cost him twenty-six-hundred and change.”
Danny raised his eyebrows in appreciation. Appreciation for Larry’s predicament. And disbelief. He wasn’t sure what he would do were he to be faced with such an emergency.
“Some day,” Rory continued, “machines will run the world. More so than they already do, anyway. And we won’t even realize it.”
“How could we not realize it?”
“Imagine robots so real,” Rory continued, “they’re indistinguishable from people. They could do all the shitty jobs no one wants, like cops, who always get shot at, or garbage men, who always get weird new illnesses no one’s ever heard of. Or maybe they could even be schoolteachers. We could program them to teach the right stuff, not to be biased, to be objective, so kids get a good, well-rounded education based on all the facts. Maybe robots would even make good husbands or wives, because they would never cheat. They would always be loyal. Unlike my ex.”
“You think you could love a robot?”
/> “If she’s indistinguishable from a real woman, what difference would it make? She’d be great in bed. She’d never get tired, she would always be in the mood. Her genitals could vibrate and do all kinds of crazy stuff a normal vagina can’t do.”
“But she wouldn’t be real. Somehow, I think something would be lacking. You’d feel a difference. There’s something in the human spirit, call it heart or soul, that a robot could never have, no matter how real it looks on the outside. On the inside, it would still be wires and circuits and whatnot. I’m sure there are plenty of people who wouldn’t mind having a gorgeous husband or wife who is perfect in every way, who is programmed to be perfect, to be faithful, to be attentive, to be loving, to have sex any time you want. But it’s still just a machine. Isn’t it?”
“At what point,” said Rory, “does artificial intelligence cross over, make that transition, and become ‘real’?”
“You should read my book.”
“It’s on my list. You coming to Tim’s for the Fourth of July gala next week?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“I love it when holidays fall on a weekday. It’s like free time off work. You bringing your new girl . . . Candy?”
“I haven’t asked her yet, but probably.”
“What about Harley? I think she really likes you. You still have her card?”
Danny searched his pockets and found it in his back pocket. He didn’t need to search his pockets for the gift from Candy; he knew exactly where it rested.
“Give her a call,” said Rory. “I know I said she’s crazy, but she’s a good person. You could do a lot worse. Before you run off to Vegas and marry this Candy woman, take Harley flying. I know she’d really enjoy that.”
“What about you? Your unrequited love?”
“Are you sure I can’t buy those panties from you?”
“These aren’t for sale at any price.”
“In that case, I think . . . I think I’m going to take your advice and tell her how I feel.” Rory stepped off the curb and into the street.
Just as Danny was about to call him back, with images of outrageous jaywalking citations in his mind, the crosswalk signal flicked to green, and the computerized voice chanted, “Cross now . . . Cross now . . . Cross now. . . .”
Danny felt a subtle vibration in his pocket and withdrew his phone. The screen showed an image of Howard standing in the kitchen, looking into the vidphone mounted on the wall near the refrigerator. There were no ice crystals clinging to Howard’s pewter face, so hopefully he had managed to obey the order to refrain from conducting any further potentially damaging experiments on himself. Howard’s head tilted a bit to one side while he waited for Danny to answer. Danny touched the green phone icon. “Hi, Howard.”
“Good afternoon, sir. Mr. McGherrity phoned from the garage regarding the shuttle.”
“What did they find?”
“Traces of trinitrotoluethylene polymicrosodium hydrochloride acetate.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Explosives, sir.”
“No shit?”
“No shit indeed, sir.”
Danny suppressed the urge to laugh; it was the first time he’d heard Howard use profanity. “Have you mentioned this to Floyd?”
“No, sir.”
“Do me a favor and keep it between us. For now. Until I have a chance to speak with him.”
“I will do my best, sir. But if Master Floyd questions me on the matter directly, I will be required to answer him.”
“I understand, Howard. It’s okay. Please don’t put yourself under stress. But neither should you volunteer information. Not until I can speak directly with Floyd. Please.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
“Thank you, Howard.”
“May I ask you a question, sir?”
“Of course, Howard.”
“Have you any idea who might have done this? Or why?”
Howard’s red eyes appeared a bit dimmer than usual. It could be he was worried, that his positronic flow was impeded, and his normal computational indeces were requiring more power from his microfusion cell, making his eyes appear less vibrant. Or it could have been the sunlight glaring on the supposedly anti-glare screen of Danny’s phone.
Danny didn’t know how to respond. It wouldn’t do to lie to Howard; his flying skills had helped save their lives; he deserved the truth. “No, Howard, I don’t.”
“Indeed, sir.” Howard began to turn away from the vidscreen. Then he came back. “One more . . . question, sir?”
Danny nodded.
“Do you . . . still . . .” Howard was having a difficult time spitting it out. “. . . want . . . to go flying with me?”
Danny grinned. He was relieved. And touched. “Yes, Howard. I absolutely still want to go flying with you. How about today? Right now.”
“Right now, sir?”
“No time like the present.”
“What about your rule, sir? It has not been twenty-four hours between your bottle and your throttle.”
Danny laughed. “True. But I’ve got a big lunch in my belly and scented panties in my pocket. I feel great.”
“Very good, sir. I shall make sure Master Floyd has no need of my services.”
“Sounds good, Howard. I’ll pick you up at the Santa Monica subway terminal, and we’ll head to the airport together.”
“Very good, sir.”
Danny rang off.
Now what was he going to do? Perhaps he could take Howard flying, land and drop him off, and then toss Harley in the back seat and take her out to Catalina Island, thereby keeping his word to each of them.
As for Candy . . . perhaps she would wait up for him. After all, he had something which belonged to her.
His mind was suddenly reeling with the sudden and simultaneous events added to his social calendar (which was typically quiet; very quiet).
If he knew Candy at all, and he liked to think he did, or was at least beginning to, she would understand. Plus, they had the entire week upcoming during which they could spend time together. And Tim’s annual 4 of July beach-house bash was coming up. He was already looking forward to it. Particularly if he had the distinct honor and pleasure of escorting Candy to the party.
As for the explosive residue of the tri-nitro-tolu-whatever it was called, that was a bigger problem.
Chapter 11
Chocolate Suicide and Rainbow Dust
Susannah looked up from her desk when the door opened. It was Doctor Calvin, returning from lunch. Candy, Susannah reminded herself, she prefers that I call her Candy. It had been twenty-four hours since the shuttle crash. Candy seemed her normal self. “Nice lunch?”
Candy smiled. She suspected that by now Danny had discovered the gift she’d placed on his windshield. “Very nice lunch. Only . . . you ever have one of those days when you feel like someone is following you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I went to Pandora’s for lunch and there was a guy there who came in and ate after I sat down. Then I saw him again a little while later at the Yog-yog place. Which reminds me . . .” Candy set a white paper bag on Susannah’s desk. “. . . I brought you a surprise.”
“A surprise?” Susannah smiled and opened the bag. Inside was a tall cup.
“It’s a low-fat, sugar-free Chocolate Suicide parfait made with whey protein. And I sprinkled some chopped almonds on top, to give it some texture.”
A deep, electronic voice rang out, “Doctor Calvin?”
Candy turned to Barney, who still sat in the reception area, facing the windows.
“Yes, Barney? Is there–”
Candy stopped.
In his big black robotic hand, Barney held a gun. A large one.
“Barney, I was told you had been relieved of your sidearm.”
“That’s correct, ma’am.”
“Where did you get that?”
“It’s a back-up weapon, doctor. Any good cop carries a back-up piece.
I keep it in a secret compartment on my lower extremity.”
“Is it loaded?”
“Yes, doctor.”
“I see.”
Susannah was on her feet, the phone in one hand. “Doctor Candy, should I call–”
“No. I’ll handle this.”
Susannah replaced the phone.
Candy approached the robot. “Barney. Can you hear me?” She used her most commanding intonation, stating the name of the robot, followed by a brief and succinctly stated request.
“Yes, doctor.”
“Barney. I am a human being. I order you to place that weapon on the table in front of you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, doctor, I understand.”
Barney did not comply. Did not move. He still held the gun in his right hand, too far away for Candy to be able to reach out and grab it. Assuming she could possibly pry the weapon out of Barney’s mechanical hand, a hand which was strong enough to bend metal or lift a motor vehicle.
“Robot Barney. That was an order.”
“Doctor Calvin, have you ever swum in the ocean?”
Oh shit. Barney was disassociating. In humans, it was a sign of psychosis. In robots, it was virtually unknown. “I gave you an order, robot.”
“Please, doctor. I require an answer.”
“If I answer, will you put down that gun?”
After a few seconds, Barney replied. “Yes, doctor.”
Candy ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath and let it out. “Have I ever been swimming in the ocean? Yes. Once. When I was a little girl.”
“What was it like?” Barney’s voice was softer now.
“It was cold. And choppy. The waves were far too big for me, and they kept knocking me down. I had salt water in my mouth and I couldn’t stop shivering. Why?”
“I would’ve liked to go swimming. Just once.”
“Barney. I have answered your question. Put down the gun. Now.”
Barney remained still. Candy realized then that the robot had been manipulating her, coercing her to answer the question.
“I must serve the public trust,” Barney stated. “A scared cop . . . is a dangerous cop. Goodbye, doctor. I shall miss you.”
Eye Candy Page 9
