by E. M. Foner
Spot was through the space between the seats and into the back before Pffift could finish his sentence. A few seconds later I heard him tearing into a package.
“If those are pretzels, go easy,” I called over my shoulder. “You know too much salt isn’t good for you.”
“That sounded more like potato chips,” Pffift said, as he climbed into the passenger seat. “I couldn’t believe how many bags a day this place goes through.”
I’d long since learned that Spot could eat anything without getting sick, and I figured that cleaning up after the dog would teach the current employees a lesson about leaving food in the van overnight. Checking the mirrors, I backed out of the spot next to the dumpster and headed for the old mall.
Pffift chatted about his plans for the world’s garment industry as I drove, and I have to admit that he had done his homework. Given the piece rates he planned on paying, which were more than double the current standard for illegal compensation schemes, I wondered that the Hankers hadn’t tried setting up a Ferrymen-style operation themselves.
“It’s no good without the portals,” he told me, as if speaking to a child.
“What does instantaneous travel have to do with anything?” I asked. “It’s a decidedly low-tech industry, and you can’t bring commercial quantities through the portals.”
“Have you ever heard of fast fashion?” Pffift asked in return, casting a sidelong glance in my direction.
Rather than admitting my ignorance, I looked it up on Wikipedia. “You’re setting up a copycat operation? You told everybody you were going to become the underwear king!”
“You want me to pay well, don’t you? Copycat fashions pay much better than the commodity stuff, even in the underwear business, but every day counts. The secret is getting the new designs to the factory within twenty-four hours of a show. The rest is about moving the product to market before it’s saturated.”
“Why did I think you actually had something honest in mind?”
“It’s a grey area,” Pffift said. “It’s not like we’re stealing the actual designs, it’s more like our own interpretation. They wouldn’t think twice about it on Reservation.”
“And what about League copyright law?”
“I leave that to our legal team. My plan is to ignore the home markets and go after the periphery, which is underserved by the fashion industry. It’s almost like we’re doing a public service.”
“Did you have a particular species in mind?”
“We’ll just rotate through everybody according to the fashion calendar,” Pffift said. “With any luck, they won’t even notice—look at that!” he interrupted himself, pointing at the graceful tower rising off to the side of the state highway that marked the beginning of the mall property. “When I told my grandson I wanted a statement building along the lines of the Eiffel Tower, I didn’t expect him to take me literally.”
“Looks like you aren’t the only copycat in the family,” I said with a grin. “You really left your grandson behind? I thought he was just a kid.”
“That was hundreds of years ago, Mark. Your sense of time is pretty bad for a clockmaker.”
“Is that a hangar?” I asked, indicating an enormous building that looked like a Quonset hut on steroids. “Are you planning on doing ground maintenance?”
“It’s a warehouse, cheapest design I could find that wouldn’t collapse under a snow load,” Pffift said. “They really should do something about controlling the weather on this planet.”
“It doesn’t look very inviting,” I remarked as we took the old mall exit and were forced to stop by a high gate. “The chain-link fence goes all the way around?”
“The government insisted,” the Hanker said, rolling down the window and waving at the armed guard who was approaching the van. “Personally, I think some congressman’s brother-in-law owns a fence factory, but they kept making noise about invasive species and this was the compromise.”
“Didn’t you explain that your ships are equipped with systems that prevent invasive species from stowing away in the cargo?” I asked as the gate began rolling open.
“I even loaned them a detection unit for testing and never heard back,” Pffift said. “My guess is that they tried to take it apart and they’re too embarrassed to ask for another one after it self-destructed.”
“That sounds like the way the government works, except for the embarrassed part.”
“Except I warned them like a hundred times that it’s a sealed unit with no user-serviceable parts and that it would melt into slag if they tried removing the cover. It will take humans a while to figure out that the rest of the galaxy protects its technology with self-destruct mechanisms.”
“Still, it’s a chain-link fence,” I said as I drove through the gate. “Maybe it would stop invasive cattle, but I’m not betting on it.”
“Head over to the warehouse. I want to see how the inventory is coming along.”
Pffift scowled as we pulled in next to a Lamborghini, the roof of which didn’t come up to the door handles of my old van.
“Are you sure you returned all the gold?” I asked.
“All the gold that we didn’t burn running billionaires back and forth to Mars,” the Hanker told me with a sly grin. “At least, that’s how my accountant made the math work out.”
“So you never actually used the faster-than-light drive you sold the humans?”
“Don’t look at me like that. We delivered a faster-than-light drive that runs on gold to the humans and we took them on a few jaunts around the solar system. I never specifically said that the drive was active for those trips, only that it was operational. There’s a difference you know. Look the words up if you don’t believe me.”
A handsome young man hurried up to greet us as we climbed out of the van. “Hey, Gramps,” he addressed Pffift. “Long time no see. Who’s the new chauffeur?”
“This is Mark, from Library,” the Hanker said. “He’s playing an important role in getting our new business off the ground.”
“Artificial intelligence. Cool.”
“He’s as human as I am,” Pffift told his grandson. “We scored the same on the test.”
“You mean five points below me?” the kid said. He whipped out a smartphone and brought up his own version of the human test to show off his score. “And I didn’t even study.”
“Nice tower,” I interjected to change the subject before my friend lost his patience. “I hear you’ve been putting in a railroad spur as well.”
“It’s all finished, on time and under budget,” the young Hanker boasted. “Speaking of which, I gave myself a bonus.”
“How much?” Pffift demanded, glancing at the Lamborghini.
“Half of the money I saved. You have to admit that’s fair. Come on, I’ll show you everything I’ve done.”
“Don’t ever have grandchildren,” Pffift muttered out of the side of his mouth as the kid led us into the warehouse.
“I’d have to have children first,” I reminded him.
“And you’re waiting for marriage?”
“It’s just an encounter suit, Pffift. I can’t use it to father offspring with Sue.”
“But you want to,” the Hanker said, making it a statement rather than a question.
“Fork a process,” his grandson contributed over his shoulder, as if AI reproduction was the easiest thing in the world. “How tough can it be?”
“I’ve never actually done it before so I couldn’t tell you,” I admitted. “I better get back to the portal, Pffift. I’m starting to feel weird.”
“Fast respiration, sweaty palms, the haunted look in your eyes. You’re having a panic attack,” he informed me. “Haven’t you and Sue ever discussed this before?”
“Not in so many words,” I said. “Give me a second to run a self-diagnostic.”
“Well?” Pffift demanded a second later.
“There’s nothing wrong with the suit,” I reported, even though my knees felt weak.
“If talking about having kids freaks you out, you should have scored better on the human test,” the grandson observed. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Thanks,” I said, activating Kim’s inebriation algorithm and examining the underlying code. By the time the kid returned, I had determined that the easiest work-around was to simply knock two carbons and four hydrogens off the algorithm’s match for an ethyl alcohol molecule. Man, that water hit the spot.
Nineteen
“Are you sure you don’t want to come out here and join the rest of us?” I addressed my words to the dense foliage at the back of the Ferrymen Temple. “It’s not like everybody doesn’t know you’re in there.”
“Double negative,” eBeth hissed at me, and then tried her own hand at coaxing the Original out of hiding. “Come on, Art. Don’t you want a voice in the negotiations?”
Mark can speak for us, Art transmitted.
“He says I can speak for them,” I told eBeth.
“Shake a bush if you really told him that,” she said.
“You don’t trust me?” I asked as a plant resembling a giant fern rustled energetically.
“I’m just trying to engage him,” eBeth whispered. “Psychology 101.”
“Saul is here,” I tried, hoping this would tempt him out. “You know, the safety officer who protects the privacy of the Originals in the county?”
Saul is the president of the Council of Spaceports, Art shot back. Playing a safety officer was just his cover story to come and keep an eye on you. He grew up locally and has a vacation cottage at the lake.
“If you two are done talking with the shrubbery I’d like to get this meeting under way,” Pffift called loudly from the front of the hall. “If Art wants to come out, he knows we won’t eat him.”
“A member of this planet’s indigenous species?” the head representative from the closer of the two other reservation worlds asked Saul.
“Yes and no,” Saul replied. “I’ll fill you in later, it gets confusing.”
“So let’s just jump right in and get started,” the Hanker declared, climbing up on the stage next to the ‘My Life’ editing station. “I’m Pffift, and those of you who just arrived from the other reservation worlds have already enjoyed the hospitality of my ship and crew. May I assume that you enjoyed your trip?”
“Abiferry,” a tall, square-jawed woman introduced herself. “Your crew cheats at cards and they don’t pay up when they lose.”
“But the food was excellent,” the bearded man accompanying her added. “And it was fascinating to watch your medical technicians grow new human body parts in your vats.”
“If you really want to see something, you’ll have to stay around to watch them put a whole person together,” Pffift said, choosing to ignore the gambling complaints. “And the gentleman in the silk pajamas?”
“Zhang,” the leader of the other delegation identified himself. “Our accommodations were adequate and we arrived on time.”
“Excellent. Now how many cargo loads of merchandise a year do each of you plan to ship?”
“Aren’t we going a bit fast, Pffift?” I interrupted. “The off-world delegates just arrived, and they can only be aware of the broad contours of the deal we’ve hashed out for their approval.”
“I took the liberty of having my executive officer brief them as soon as the ship came within communications range,” the Hanker brushed aside my complaint.
“I’ve had a chance to speak with my colleagues before the meeting and we’re all in agreement,” Saul added. “Branching out into new markets under our own branding is something we’ve been discussing for decades.”
“Is that so?” demanded a screechy voice from the rear of the Ferrymen Temple.
Everybody spun around to stare at the tall lizard-creature who stalked forward on his hind legs, a long tail held high behind him to keep everything in balance. The Ferryman wore a virtual reality visor of the multi-purpose type affected by their senior officers, which means it wasn’t limited to viewing entertainment content and playing games. He was accompanied by four lower-caste Ferrymen, all of whom wore less expensive versions of the same visor. One of the lizards carried a metal box with him, and if I’m any judge of reptilian lower-facial expressions, they all looked angry.
Paul, I’ve got Ferrymen here! I transmitted to my technical specialist.
Sorry about that. I took the grid offline a few hours ago to redistribute the detectors farther from the base station to improve the accuracy. I hired Pffift’s crew to deliver the units after they dropped off the delegates this morning.
“We are honored by your presence, O Sky Gods,” Saul greeted the newcomers with a polite bow. “We were just discussing the possibility of bringing you—”
“Spare me your stories,” the Ferryman chief interrupted him. “There’s a cloaked Hanker exploration and exploitation vessel in orbit that we almost ran into when exiting hyperspace, and that fellow,” he paused to point at yours truly, “is clearly an AI wearing a human encounter suit. Observer team?” he guessed.
“On special assignment,” I admitted.
“We’re in for fifteen percent on the new venture?” the lizard-man continued, spinning back to Saul.
“Actually, we thought that for business we developed independently, you might waive—”
“Fifteen percent,” the Ferryman repeated, nodding in agreement with himself. “But we aren’t here about your backdoor deals. Do any of you remember the one special favor we asked?”
“You were looking for an old holographic drama titled ‘Kingdom of the Desert,’” Abiferry replied immediately. “One of our ships, I mean, one of your ships crewed by our people, was approached by a seller while stopping at a Bintrid orbital facility for scheduled maintenance. In accordance with your requisition, they were able to obtain the complete archive.”
“Paying with our credit,” the Ferryman hissed. “Fifteen million gal-creds, not counting shipping and handling to our location at the time. Does that ring a bell?”
“The sum was within the budget you had authorized,” the tall woman replied strongly. “The captain handled the transaction himself, and the presence of every episode of the drama was verified by a bonded entertainment agent. If there’s any problem—”
“Just a little matter of encryption preventing us from opening any episodes beyond the first season. The series is all there, yes, but we can’t watch 99.99% of it!”
I saw my chance to conciliate the angry aliens and jumped in. “It’s not really our thing to interfere with legal content protection schemes, but maybe I can make an exception.” If the Ferrymen were going to step on the new deal for fifteen percent, the whole thing might fall apart, including our tourism-to-Earth startup.
The chief gestured at his subordinate who was carrying the metal box. It was a Bintrid high-capacity storage unit with entertainment-level encryption, but cracking codes was an old hobby of mine, and I activated the holographic interface. A moment later I was lost in a maze of fractal-like patterns that seemed to stretch towards eternity. I’m not sure how long I spent fumbling for the end of a thread before a three-fingered hand gripped my shoulder.
It’s trickier than it looks, Art informed me. Let’s bring it outside where all of my clones can see the patterns. If my mind wasn’t so piecemeal I could crack the code almost instantly, but these latency issues are a nightmare.
“Our friend wants the storage unit brought outside where his clones can see the hologram,” I informed the Ferrymen. “The Originals on this world are actually a limited number of artificial intelligence entities who have spread their minds over large numbers of biological hosts for the sake of the experience.”
“Yes, they’re here on vacation,” the Ferryman chief said impatiently, signaling his subordinate to carry the metal cube outside. “We never would have created a reservation on the planet if they had been natives. Their mega-art is remarkable.”
“What does he mean by that?�
� I asked Art as we followed the storage unit back down the aisle.
Haven’t you ever seen this world from space? the Original countered my question.
“No. It’s all been portals with me.” When we stepped outside, there were hundreds of hairy knuckle-draggers milling around on the village common. I noticed a few with different physical characteristics mixed in, and Art confirmed my conjecture.
A few of my compatriots wished to monitor the conference, he replied. But first things first.
Every shaggy head swiveled to stare at the swirling holographic lock on the storage unit and a swell of organically produced radio frequency chatter went up that was almost disruptive to my own processing. Then the lock abruptly shattered, and the only thing left was a half-translucent silvery cord tied around the cube like a gift bow.
You see? Art demanded. This is exactly what I was talking about.
“Did something go wrong?” I asked. “I thought you broke the encryption cleanly.”
We did. The piece that remains is magical protection. It’s well beyond my meager skills.
“Not getting anything here,” the Ferryman chief said ominously, tapping his visor. “Maybe a twenty-five percent share in the new business would motivate you to be more careful about spending our money in the future.”
“It turns out there’s also magical protection and it’s apparently a powerful enchantment,” I explained. “I’m afraid there’s nothing further we can do.”
The Ferrymen all went rigid, and for a moment I thought they were just drama-withdrawal crazed enough to try something untoward. Then I reached out to sample their feed and discovered that they were all immersed in the first episode of the second season. I looked back to the storage unit and saw the dog greedily licking the surface from which the magical protection had vanished.
