3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2

by Ed Howdershelt

  Leslie's face flickered brightly before it became a mask of moderate remorse.

  She turned to Ellen and said, "That's too bad. I guess that means we'll have to use maps to find our way around."

  Ellen wasn't fooled. "Not necessarily. I can find someone. School is out for a couple of days, at least. Maybe one of the students..?"

  Leslie glanced at me and I saw that a student wasn't what she'd had in mind.

  "No," I said. "No kids, please. We'll wander around on our own, instead. Stephie can guide us if we need to go somewhere in particular."

  Leslie looked slightly relieved and Ellen nodded.

  "Okay, then. See you later. Remember; the boardroom at ten. It's nine now."

  "Yas'm. Ten. Got it."

  When Ellen had left us, Leslie turned to face me rather sternly, her hands on her hips. I finished my breakfast and sipped coffee as I waited for her to say something. Apparently I was supposed to stop eating and ask what was wrong, because all she did was become more tense.

  I stacked my dishware and finished my coffee, then went to the clinic's bathroom and turned on the shower. I heard some small sound from the front room, then footsteps coming toward the bathroom. Leslie appeared in the doorway.

  "Ed, we need to talk."

  "Okay, then, I'm listening. Talk."

  I slipped off the hospital gown and stepped into the shower.

  Holding the glass door open, I asked, "Care to join me, ma'am?"

  "No, I do not. We need to straighten some things out, Ed."

  "I wasn't aware anything was bent, Leslie. I also wasn't aware that you were upset about anything until you gave me that look after Ellen left, so just tell me about it and lose the attitude."

  I let the glass door shut and started at the top, cleaning stuff out of my hair that I hadn't realized was there. It occurred to me that I was lucky to have hair at all after the fireball threw me out of my room.

  For a couple of minutes Leslie stood in the doorway, then she walked away. When I finished my shower and went out front for my clothes, I didn't see her, but the breakfast things were gone. I got dressed and transferred my pocket stuff.

  Stephie said that she'd found me a razor and toothbrush and that they were on the countertop in the bathroom. I checked the bathroom cabinet and found toothpaste, but no shaving cream, so I made do with soap rather than wait.

  "Stephie, do you have any idea why Leslie's upset?"

  "No, Ed. She didn't speak to me about it, either."

  "Oh, well. Stephie, if I specifically ask you, "How's the weather?", you're to remove me from your command structure until I ask you, "Where is Texas?" If I specifically tell you that Houston is in Florida, you're to remove me from your command structure for one week. In either case, you are not to reveal to anyone the amount of time that I may not command you, but you may acknowledge that I am unable to do so."

  "May I ask the reason for these commands, Ed?"

  "I'm afraid that whoever messed with the station computer may try to coerce me to order you to do things. Enough of the right coercion works, ma'am, no matter what anyone else may tell you."

  "What should I tell you if you ask about the weather?"

  "The truth; that the weather is what it is, even up here."

  "Okay, Ed."

  "Have you contacted Elkor about events?"

  "I sent him a full report for analysis. He said he'd be sharing it with Linda's offices and others."

  "Any word from Linda?"

  "None yet. Leslie is back."

  "Does she still seem pissed off?"

  "Perhaps a little, judging from her posture and expression."

  I rinsed and toweled my face and said, "Great. Well, I guess I'm about ready to face a board meeting. Later, Steph."

  "Wait, Ed. Will you be needing a new watch?"

  "Yeah, I think I will. The world in general doesn't need to know about my implant. Thanks for thinking of it before I got out of here."

  "Just give me a minute to make one and send it to you."

  As I walked out of the bathroom, I saw that Stephie had been right. Leslie didn't seem any happier than before.

  I put a beaker of water in the microwave to heat up and tapped some instant coffee into the jar lid. When the pile looked about right, I dumped it into my cup and poured some hot water on top of it. Leslie remained silent as I stirred things together.

  "Are you coming with me to meet the board people, Leslie?"

  "They're just a bunch of U.N. political appointees who were foisted into position. No thrill. I'll go if you think it's necessary."

  "Nope. Your choice. As soon as my watch arrives, I'll be heading that way."

  "Then I'll walk with you, but I'd rather not meet the board."

  The coffee was too hot. I almost asked Stephie to field-cool it, then realized that I should be able to do something like that, since it didn't involve lifting heavy things. I set the cup down and wondered how to get my field implant to do what I wanted.

  "You gonna tell me what's bugging you, or will I have to guess? Men aren't good at guessing stuff like that, you know."

  She stood very straight and said, "You certainly aren't. When Ellen and I came in this morning, what did you do?"

  "Uh... I said hello? Ate breakfast? Nothing else, I think."

  Her even gaze became a glare.

  "That's right. That's all you did. After all we've been through, that's all you did."

  I shrugged. None of my efforts to create a cold-field had worked. Just to see if the damned implant was still working, I sent a field into the coffee to stir it for a moment. Yup. It was working.

  "You're supposed to be my secretary, Leslie. Ellen was here. What was I supposed to do, run over and kiss you?"

  "Oh, come on, Ed. Nobody with any brains is going to believe I'm just your secretary, especially not Ellen."

  "I don't care what they believe. This job isn't over until I'm on a transport back to Earth. Until then, our story stands. If you want to rewrite it so that we can be more than that up here, that's fine. We'll rewrite it as soon as possible."

  "I don't see the point..."

  "That's right, you don't, and I'm wondering why."

  "I... We don't have time to discuss it. We have to get going."

  "I'm waiting for my watch, Leslie."

  "Why? You don't need one. You were talking to ours without one yesterday."

  I sighed. "It's part of the grand illusion, Leslie. Part of the costume. At the risk of pissing you off, I'll tell you something. You don't have to know the 'why' of every little thing, and you should be able to figure out some of them for yourself. If you can't, just assume that whatever it may be is part of the role I'm supposed to play up here."

  "Is that what you're going to say when Ellen asks the same question? That she 'doesn't need to know the why of every little thing'?"

  "Ellen won't ask. She knows about implants."

  "Oh. Well. How absolutely wonderful for her. You know what, Ed? If you don't need me for secretarial duties this morning, maybe I should just find something else to do."

  "Maybe so, Leslie. I have enough to think about this morning. You can get with me later if you want to continue this discussion."

  Leslie simply stared at me as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. My new watch floated in and settled on the table. I picked it up and put it on.

  "Thanks, Steph. I'm all ready to face the world, now."

  Leslie stared at me for a moment, then spun on her heel and walked out.

  Steph said, "Leslie is very upset about something, Ed."

  "She went through hell yesterday, Stephie."

  "So did Ellen, but she isn't upset. She seems quite settled today."

  "Ellen's a different personality. Actually, the fact that Ellen is handling things so well probably isn't helping Leslie to cope. Women compete with each other, sometimes without even realizing it and often even when they'd really prefer not to."

  "That sounds like an opin
ion, Ed."

  "It is, but it's an opinion based on observation. Leslie saw tall, blonde, gorgeous Ellen, understood that Ellen and I had once been together, and instantly went 'en garde'. Add that I instantly tossed our cover story for Ellen based on her thorough lack of credulity in the matter, which made her a confidant of sorts. Today, Ellen showed up apparently unruffled by yesterday's events. Leslie sublimated her reaction well enough at the beginning, but it didn't quite disappear, and Ellen's demeanor today served to renew that reaction, even if it wasn't meant to."

  "You're saying that Leslie's feeling insecure?"

  "At least insecure. Perhaps even frightened. I've been the focal point of several rapid changes in her life and the inciter of a few. Job, location, adventure, then danger. We had great sex. That can make a hell of an impression on a woman. I've survived an explosion and then had to assume a commanding role and slay a dragon of sorts. Her womanness is responding to the circumstances, and again, I'm the focal point. I'm also the only person she knows up here."

  "If you left, there would be many quite willing to help and befriend her, Ed. She would not be alone here in any sense."

  "We know that. Hell, even she undoubtedly realizes that, intellectually. But her gut is telling her that she's on Ellen's turf, far from home, and that she should hang on to me for dear life, at least for the moment."

  "What will you do, Ed? What can you say that will ease her mind?"

  "Nothing I could do would help, Steph. Nothing I could say would ease her mind. Her gut is telling her to keep me away from Ellen. The sight of Ellen with Robert might help. If Ellen was angry with me or resentful, that might possibly reassure Leslie a little, too, but Ellen doesn't appear to be cooperating in that regard."

  "No, she doesn't. Can you speculate about an outcome from all this?"

  "An outcome? No. That wouldn't be speculation. When I'm finished, I go home. Leslie will remain here as a teacher or go back to Earth. The immediacy is a speculation, though. Will she relax a bit and talk honestly about what's bugging her? If so, she'll answer most of her own questions and insecurities and probably settle down. If not, I'll proceed without a secretary and they'll find her other fill-in work elsewhere on the station or ship her home. I don't need the hassle."

  I gave up on cooling my coffee by using a field and dropped an ice cube in it.

  "Steph, I can't seem to make my field implant create a cold field like you can. What all should I be able to do with this thing?"

  "Your implant is a miniature version of my field control mechanism, Ed. You should be able to do - in a limited fashion - anything that Elkor or I can do."

  "Well, I can't seem to make the connections the way you do. Obviously. Kemor had to help me just to make a penny move, and we think that the only reason that I made that connection afterward had to do with the microbots repairing me while I napped."

  "Do you think a similar boosting by me would help you somehow understand how to cause the effects you want?

  "I think it couldn't hurt to try, coach. I don't have time now, but when I'm back in my room, I'd like for you to work with me on this. Moving small objects around can't be all there is for me."

  "Okay, Ed. I'll try to find the time."

  I'd been heading for the door, but that stopped me.

  "The time? Steph, if you have that much to learn quickly about running this station, my coffee-cooler field can wait. I didn't realize... Well, just let me know, okay?"

  "I'm sorry, Ed. I tried to make a joke. I guess you need a face for some things."

  "Oh. Yeah, Stephie. Maybe so. But now that I understand, your joke is successful, after all. You're right, too. Some things need a face to provide the right signals. That's something else we can work on this afternoon."

  I headed out the door and turned left.

  "Wrong way, Ed. The board room is two decks up and toward the dock."

  "Yas'm. Reversing course. How about telling me before I go the wrong way?"

  Stephie said, thoughtfully, "I suppose I could do that."

  I grinned.

  "That line worked for you, Stephie. No face necessary due to context. A thought... You know how a Japanese question ends in a 'ka'? Maybe we could work out something like that to tag onto the end of one of your jokes. Something subtle, that wouldn't interfere with the intent, but would also let someone realize that you were joking?"

  "Maybe that would work, but I still think I need a face for the best ones."

  "Well, fish around for parts in the pictures on file and see what you can find."

  "Finding them is no problem, Ed."

  "I mean... Oh, hell. Just try to assemble a few faces you wouldn't mind using from the parts you like best."

  "Okay. How's this?"

  Sophia Loren floated before me as I walked. No, it was almost Sophia Loren. There was a difference I couldn't quite identify.

  "Well, at least it isn't Marilyn Monroe. She's been overdone. Got any more?"

  "Maybe one of these?"

  A modified Barbara Eden appeared, then a slightly altered Elizabeth Montgomery, then an Ingrid Bergman materialized. Ingrid stayed as the others disappeared.

  "Good choice," said Stephie. "I like her movies."

  "I didn't say anything."

  "Your involuntary responses were quite positive, Ed. I'll take this one. Would you mind if I made her nose a little smaller?"

  "Try it and see."

  The picture disappeared and then reappeared.

  "Well?" I asked. "How did I like it?"

  "There was no discernible difference, Ed. I'll keep this one as it is now."

  "Definitely good enough. You seem to have good taste, ma'am. Does it carry over into furniture and art?"

  "Probably, but that's yet to be determined and highly subject to individual interpretations and preferences."

  "Hmm. Yeah. Well, just don't hang Picassos in my room."

  "Your worry is unfounded, Ed. No Picassos."

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The Board of Directors didn't quite seem to be the stuffed shirts I'd expected, at least, not at first exposure, but they were singularly unthrilled by the prospect of having a computer with a personality. When I asked them why, I received a variant of 'that's just how we want things to be'.

  I sipped my coffee and tried reasoning with them. The first half hour of the meeting devolved from a recounting of events already thoroughly recounted into a recurring theme of rhetoric that mostly illustrated their unwillingness to accept changes in established procedures.

  I tossed damage reports and body counts into the discussion and asked why their previous procedures had almost cost them the station, and one of the members actually came close to blaming the 'incident' of the previous day on my arrival.

  I told him that if I hadn't been the one to trigger the cataclysm, someone else would have in the near future. 3rd World wanted the factory problems ended. He dropped that subject and brought up the matter of the computer again.

  In flat tones, he said, "We would like our own programming returned, sir."

  "Your old program couldn't defend itself. This one can. Your old program was an idiot savant at your beck and call. This one will also serve you well and she needs a decent job, guys. A job worthy of her abilities. She's self-aware. That means that turning her off would be the equivalent of killing her. How many murderers are sitting at this table? Would all of you please raise a hand?"

  The pudgy little guy named Barlow said, "Sir, we realize that you have developed a rapport of sorts with this program and that you would like to believe it to be sentient, but we of the Board would beg to disagree with you about that."

  "She thinks for herself and she has firewalls on her firewalls to repel boarders. No pun intended, of course. Have you even talked to her?"

  "We have, briefly. You don't seem to understand, sir. While we appreciate what you have done for us, we must insist that our programming specifications be met."

  "Stephie, pull up the programm
ing purchase contract for the idiot and tell me if it specifically states that the station computer will have no identity."

  Barlow began a protest, but I cut him off.

  "Just hang on a minute, okay? You've been saying 'we', but I'm only hearing your voice. Do any of the rest of you have opinions, or do you just rubber-stamp his?"

  The woman on the end, Carlton, said ominously, "We won't be insulted, sir."

  "Sure, you will. It happens to everybody sometime. You're acting like a hardhead at a four-way stop, ma'am. Having the right of way can make you dead right if that right is all you rely on to get you through. Someone almost proved that for you yesterday. You have to look and listen, too, so why not take a chance that I'm not totally stupid and give this a fair trial?"

  One of the men at the table huffed a little and said, "We weren't inferring that you were stupid, Mr...?"

  I just looked at him for a moment, then said, "He's Barlow. She's Carlton. There's Manchester, Wickson, and Denton. At least I know who's at this table. Maybe I should come back when you give a damn, Ainsley. Will that be before the next 'incident', as you called it? Will anyone be alive to greet me? Steph, do you have that info?"

  "Yes, Ed. The programming was performed to maximum expected station requirements only. There is no specific instruction in the purchase contract concerning whether the computer would be self-aware."

  "I didn't think so. Someone would have had to part with money for some lawyer's extra fifteen minutes. I like it better when I can see you, Stephie. How about putting yourself on the wall field for us? Life size will do fine."

  I'd expected to see her new face. She went me one better. On the wall appeared an image of Ingrid Bergman in her thirties. Well, almost Ingrid. There had been some changes, but they were so subtle that I couldn't quite put my finger on them.

  The Stephie image was wearing a skirt and jacket of a subdued green that seemed much like the emerald green of her hull on Earth, and her outfit reeked of style and taste. She gave the bottom of her jacket a straightening tug as if she'd just risen from a chair, then clasped her hands behind her and said, "Hello, everybody."

  One of the men at the table actually gasped. Carlton gaped for a moment, then her mouth slammed shut almost audibly. I gave everybody a few seconds to absorb Stephie's visual persona.