"The insurance companies will lobby against PFM's. Guaranteed. So will the fundy religions, but most of them'll do so claiming other reasons, namely the contraception issue. A helluva lot of people depend on death and illness for a living.” Turning to Steph, I said, “Oh, and by the way; did you try to factor in sales to pet owners?"
Steph's blank expression came and went so fast I almost missed it.
"No, Ed. I didn't."
With a grin I said, “Well, we're gonna need a little bitty PFM for Tiger, y'know. He may feel all deprived and neglected if he doesn't get one, too."
Myra laughed and Linda chuckled, but Steph answered quite seriously, “Yes, he would. I'll see to it immediately, Ed. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
Wallace said, “Jesus ... There are about four times as many pets as owners."
After a moment, Angela rather wonderingly asked, “Will Tiger's PFM ... I mean ... Would he want a glider, too?"
I shrugged. “No idea how he'd feel about flying like that. We'll ask him. He'd be the only flying cat in the world. That might appeal to him."
Mills was astounded. “You're serious, aren't you?! You'd give your cat a glider?"
"Sure, if he wants one,” I said. “Why not? Steph and Elkor wouldn't let him crash."
"But cats aren't ... They just aren't ... built ... for flying!"
"Oh, that's a damned good point, doc, but people aren't built for flying, either. Seems to me we manage anyway."
A few people were on their feet at this point. Linda rapped her coffee spoon on her desk a few times as she said, “People! Hello?"
When all eyes were on her, she indicated the chairs with a wave of the spoon.
Once everybody was again seated, she said, “Stephanie, you must have had a reason for involving this specific group of people so early in your project. Why us?” She grinned and asked, “Were we simply the people most available for PFM testing?"
"No,” said Steph, returning the grin. “These units aren't prototypes. I wanted this group's thoughts and opinions. Now I have them."
"I see. Do you have anything to add before I wrap up this meeting?"
Before Steph could speak Wallace asked, “Wrap it up? Linda, I think there might be a few things more to talk about."
Karen echoed his sentiment.
Shrugging, Linda asked, “Anything that can't wait until after dinner?"
After a moment and a glance at Mills, Wallace said, “Well, I guess not."
"Good. Steph? Any last words for this meeting?"
"No, Linda."
"Great.” She tapped the desk sharply with her spoon. “We're adjourned."
Chapter Forty-Six
Linda came around her desk and led the way to the door, ushering us all into the other room and then stopping to talk to Anna as we filed into the hallway. Myra and Angela stopped and seemed to be having a discussion.
Steph said, “Ed, I'll see you later,” and disappeared before I could answer.
As I headed for the dining hall, someone behind me took three quick steps and caught up with me.
"Mind if I join you?” asked Mills.
"If you want,” I said.
Myra separated from Angela and jogged to catch up with us. I looked back and saw Angela walking with Wallace. Linda came out of her office and joined them.
"Why did Stephanie leave?” asked Myra.
"No idea,” I said. “Probably had something to do."
Mills asked, “Why did you and Stephanie stand up for me in there?"
I looked at Karen and said, “It was her idea. She asked me to go along with her. I figured she had her reasons."
"So you just went along with her without knowing why?"
Nodding, I said, “Yup."
"Why?"
As we walked into the dining hall, I said, “Told you. I figured she had her reasons. Ask her about it next time you see her."
The others caught up with us in the serving line and the six of us sat together as we ate. Table chatter seemed sparse until Linda said, “The facts are clear enough. I see no reason to continue the meeting during or after dinner. Does anyone disagree?"
I shrugged. “Can't think of anything to add to what's been said."
Myra asked, “When does production begin?"
"Don't know,” I said, setting my tray on a table and taking a seat as the others found seats of their own.
"Who will get the first PFM's?” asked Myra.
"Don't know that, either."
Giving me a wry look, she asked, “Well, what do you know?"
"About as much as you do, Myra. Steph didn't tell me what she had in mind before the meeting."
"I find that hard to believe,” said Mills, taking the seat next to mine.
I grinned at her and said, “Too bad. That's how it is."
Wallace asked, “Why aren't you taking any credit for thinking up PFM's?"
"Don't need it."
Mills almost dropped her fork as she exclaimed, “You invented those things?"
Shaking my head, I said, “No, not exactly. I had the idea, but Steph invented them."
"Then why is Captain Wallace under the impression that you did?"
Glancing at Myra, I said, “Excuse this, okay?” then turned to Mills and said, “Myra's here, so I can't tell you why he thinks that."
Myra looked around the table, then sighed. “Am I the only one here who doesn't know why he might think that you invented them?"
I nodded. “Yup. Sorry ‘bout that."
She shrugged and dug into her steak.
"No sweat. It's happened before."
Pausing in cutting her meat, Mills said, “Something this important requires a bit more than half an hour's discussion."
Linda sipped her drink and said, “I asked for last words. You didn't say anything.” She looked around the table and added, “Besides, we all know how to reach each other if we think of anything else to say, and we aren't exactly some kind of governing board. By one avenue or another, Stephanie can and will do whatever she wants with her PFM's."
Citing plans for the evening, Linda and Wallace finished eating and left us. Angela and Myra again had some kind of discussion going on their side of the table. Mills ate in silence for some minutes as she finished, then glanced at me skeptically.
"What?” I asked.
Mills whispered, “You were worried that I'd say something about the gold. That's why you had Stephanie intercede."
Giving her the fisheye, I asked, “Think so, huh?” then I grinningly turned to Myra and asked, “Hey, Myra, are you really going to donate your share of the treasure to a museum, or did you keep a little of it for yourself?"
"Treasure? What treasure?” asked Angela.
Freezing briefly, Myra said, “I didn't think it would hurt to keep a few coins. You know, to look at now and then. As souvenirs."
"Uh, huh. How many is 'a few' these days, ma'am?"
With a flat gaze and a wry expression, Myra said, “A few still means a few, okay? Half a dozen or so. Think you can live with that?"
"What treasure?” asked Angela.
Myra grinned at her and excitedly said, “Ed and Steph took me with them on a treasure dive. Steph gave me some of the stuff she found."
"No shit?!” With an abashed glance at Mills, Angela said, “Sorry, Dr. Mills."
As Myra rooted in her bag for a couple of coins she'd kept out of her pile, I turned to Mills and said softly, “No, Karen. I really don't think that Steph's not-quite-secret stash was the reason she stood up for you."
I sipped the last of my drink and stood up with my tray. Mills also stood up, watching as Myra finally found her coins and put them on the table. As I walked toward the bus bins, Karen caught up with me.
"Why, then?” she asked. “You don't like me at all."
Dumping my tray, I said, “Well, you're right about that, but like I said, you'll have to ask Steph."
"The implants,” said Mills, dumping her own tray. “M
yra doesn't know about them. There must be a reason for keeping them secret and you were worried that I'd talk."
I sighed. “She works for the NSA and they might get ideas. The first attempts to implant people weren't totally altruistic, Karen. The military had the idea that they could be used as weapons and you've seen some of what I can do with mine. But that wasn't the reason, either, because it's extremely unlikely that anyone else would be able to do what I do with implants. I had special coaching with mine; the kind of help that nobody else is going to get."
"Coaching? From who? Stephanie?"
"Yes. And Elkor. And before that, another like him.” As we started toward the door, I said, “Look, Karen, Steph didn't tell me why she did it. I only went along with her, so don't ask me again. Ask her."
Maybe the tone of my words was sharper or more abrupt than I intended. Or maybe my tone simply matched my attitude at that moment. Mills touched my arm as she stopped walking and I turned to face her with an exasperated sigh.
"What?"
"Relax,” said Mills. “Sorry if I seemed to be badgering you."
"Seemed to be?"
"Okay, okay. Look, I'm just not used to people ... doing things like that for me."
"You're at the top of one of the taller ladders around here, Mills. The situation probably hasn't come up very often."
I continued walking in the direction of the general store and Mills kept pace with me as she said, “Still, you didn't have to do it. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
In the store I grabbed a couple of bags of gummis and a bag of devil's food cookies, then paid the clerk and had started to leave the store when a thought occurred to me. Turning back to the clerk, I asked if she had any little boxes.
"Boxes?” she asked, “How little?"
"Two by two, maybe three inches long. Something like that."
She shook her head. “No, everything we have is bigger than that."
A small box of 'junior mints' caught my eye and I took one off the rack.
"This'll do,” I said, paying for it and pulling two strips of clear tape off a roll near her register.
I opened the box, pressed one piece of tape over the end of the box, used a fingernail to cut it along the boxflap, then laid the other piece of tape directly on top of the first, tabbing the ends of the top strip so it could be pulled easily. Both women were looking at me rather oddly.
"This makes it recloseable,” I said. “These boxes were designed to make you eat all the candy in one sitting.” Shaking a few of the mints into my hand and holding the box toward the ladies, I said, “I used to pig out on 'junior mints'. Want some?"
Mills declined, but the clerk accepted some mints with thanks.
As we headed for the door Mills grinningly eyed the bag containing my gummis and cookies and asked, “You're really going to eat all that junk?"
"Unless I have to share it with you, probably so. You like gummis?"
She shook her head. “No, but I might try one of those cookies."
I handed her the cookie bag and ate a few more mints as she opened it, inhaled the scent of the contents, and retrieved one of the pudgy little chocolate-coated cakes.
"Oh, damn,” she muttered, gazing at the cookie. “I think I gained a pound just by looking into the bag."
"You can come with me and walk it off,” I said. “I'm going outside for a while."
She nibbled the corner off the cookie, murmured a soft "Mmmmm," and then asked, “Where outside?"
Heading toward the main doors, I said, “Just outside. Fresh air, all that."
Shrugging slightly, she came with me.
"Why did you want a box?” she asked.
"Just did. Why did you ask for a cookie if you're worried about your weight?"
"Just did. And I'm not really worried. I'm just careful."
"Ready for another cookie yet?"
Shaking her head, she held up her first cookie. Three of the corners were missing.
"Nope. You're worried, Mills,” I said. “Nobody who isn't would eat a cookie like that."
"I've always eaten cookies this way. They last longer."
"Uh, huh,” I said as we neared the doors. “Steph, are you busy?"
Steph appeared a few feet in front of us, drifting backward a few inches off the ground, her feet together and her hands behind her back in a casual stance as she said, “No, not really. Will you want to use the flitter?"
"Yes, actually, but not right away. I mostly just wanted a look at your gorgeous self, milady, and to know if you could spare me some time."
Her eyebrow went up as she said, “Oh, gosh, I suppose I can briefly interrupt my hectic schedule for you, Ed,” then she glanced at Mills and said, “Hello, Dr. Mills."
Karen regarded the gap between Steph and the floor, then met her gaze and said, “Uh ... Hello, Stephanie."
The guard at the check-in desk had seen Steph before, but his mouth fell open nonetheless as we passed.
I nodded to him and said, “Back in a few, Hank. Don't lock us out, okay?"
"Uh ... Right. Sure."
Ahead of us, Steph passed through the glass doors like a ghost as I reached to push one of the doors open and held it for a wide-eyed Karen. Nobody spoke for a time as we followed the sidewalk past the flagpole toward the main gate. Steph let herself float to the ground to my right and began walking with us.
"Are we going anyplace in particular?” asked Mills.
"Nope. I just wanted to walk off dinner and suggest that if you have any interest at all in owning a PFM, you'd probably better ask Steph for one real soon."
With a sharp glance, Mills asked, “Why?"
In a softer tone Steph asked, “Yes, why, Ed?"
"I don't think they're gonna be allowed to happen without a fight, that's why. Not anytime soon, anyway."
Mills stopped walking. When I turned to face her, she asked, “A fight?"
I ate some more 'junior mints' as I formulated my reply. Steph simply stood waiting for my answer.
"A fight,” I affirmed. “I think that every government, church, and other institution that herds humanity through various hoops will be lined up against them at first. And not just because they prevent babies. PFM's will be seen as dangerous to every established institution because they'll put too much power in the hands of individuals."
Goggling at me, Mills asked, “What the hell are you talking about, Ed? A protective field and a few entertainment functions don't amount to very much power."
"No? The medical industry depends on disease and injury, Karen. They'll pay lip service to the wonderfulness of the protective field, then begin questioning whether there's any inherent radiation risk from using it. They'll say that people will behave less carefully and risk even greater possible injuries. They'll say all kinds of things, and the insurance industry will rubber stamp their every doubtful word."
"The insurance industry?"
"Yeah. Who's gonna buy health insurance? Home, car, boat, and like that, sure, but not the mainstays of the insurance market."
Fishing a few more mints out of the box, I said, “And then there are the cops. You'll see them carrying AR-15's instead of Glocks. Maybe bigger calibers than that, because that's what it'll take to dependably get through a p-field to stop someone. They may try nets and that sticky stuff and other things, but most police forces will just start carrying bigger guns."
"And then,” I said after a pause, “There are governments. They'll want to be able to decide who gets PFM's and who doesn't and what features will be available to whom. If they aren't allowed to decide those things, they'll most likely ban PFM's completely. They'd also want tax money on sales and probably even on ownership of PFM's. In Europe they tax TV's and radios that way. If you own one, there's a yearly fee."
Shaking the last of the mints out of the box, I said, “But mainly there's gonna be one helluva long discussion about whether to allow PFM's to be sold at all with the protective field included, and I have my doubt
s about the outcome."
Holding up the empty box, I looked at Steph.
"Milady, would you please make a PFM for Dr. Mills and put it in this box?"
Steph took the box and looked at it. “I'm making it now, Ed. Why do you want me to put it in this box? Why shouldn't I simply hand it to her?"
I looked at Mills as I answered Steph. “Because Karen may have scruples against accepting something against which she argued earlier and because it won't bond with her until she decides to take it out of the box and touch it.” I grinned and added, “And it'll probably save us a trip later if you give her one now."
To Mills I said, “When PFM's become team-issue equipment, you'll be required to wear one and know how to use it when you're working with the teams. If you won't wear one, you've wasted your flitter training."
Mills gave a ladylike snort and said, “But if you're right and they're banned, nobody will have them."
"3rd World teams will have them. Linda, Wallace, and all other key personnel will. Guaranteed. Probably damned near everybody in 3rd World will, and so will the Amarans. The bureaucrats can only try to ban sales on Earth while they try to think of a way to tax and control matters. They'd know they don't have a chance in hell of banning 3rd's people or Amarans from using PFM's."
I saw a faint streak in the sky above hangar four that headed our way and said, “Thanks, Steph,” as the PFM came to rest in her hand. She slipped it into the box and handed it toward me, but I guided her hand toward Mills.
Mills didn't immediately reach for the box. She eyed Stephanie first, then me. After a few moments she took the box and put it in her purse, snapping the purse shut in front of her with a firm gesture.
"Thank you,” she said. “I'll decide whether to use it later. You really think that Earth won't allow PFM's, don't you?"
"Not won't. Might not. The masses of Earth probably won't have much of a say in the matter unless or until they're willing to organize against their own authorities.” Turning to Steph, I asked, “What do you think?"
With a very direct gaze at me, Steph said, “I think my plans may have overlooked a few things."
Karen asked, “Such as? You don't seriously think he's right about this, do you?"
Steph looked at her as she said, “Consider this, Dr. Mills; flitters made for Earth have engines that must be recharged every hundred hours or so, depending on use. The power source in Ed's flitter will last about twenty years. Earth flitters fly much lower and slower and lack most of the defensive features of standard and export models. Earth flitters could have had the same engines and features, but Earth authorities wouldn't allow them in commercial models.” She paused a moment, then added, “That is by international agreement and law, Dr. Mills. 3rd World had no hand in the decision to limit Earth flitters."
Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 37
