by Tal Turing
“That's fascinating! How many of you in an aspect?” Cyn exclaimed.
“That is privileged information as is number of aspects even in New Berlyn. But our goal is no secret, eventually there would be only one aspect and it would be all of us and we would share...everything.” The older woman had returned.
“I see, so Robbie can't see me right now. But, later, at some point, they could?” Cyn tried to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice.
“You'd like to say hello?”
Cyn's face broke out into a smile. Her last memories of Robbie and his fellow Daneel agents were hearing them try to sing. It was the last thing she had ever expected to hear from the serious, austere and even frightening beings.
“Yes. And I'd like to thank them for repairing my spectacles.”
“Aspects do not share information right away, in real time. But eventually they will hear your message, see your message, along with my impressions, our impressions. It is difficult to explain.”
“That's fine, thank you.”
“You had AI problems?” The woman continued, tapping her black rimmed glasses. “I see that you are wearing a piece from our 3000 line, not a very current piece of equipment, the 6000 series was released last year.”
“Well, I could barely afford these. They are still getting adjusted to New Berlyn but I really have no complaint.”
“You have had some issue in this city? They are not very sophisticated but they should function flawlessly in those things they can do across Las Joyas. That is our warrant.”
“One silly thing. When I arrived, I programmed them to block promotions, but they still allow advertisements encouraging me to get a newer model. As you said, there are pretty old and I should not blame you for exempting your own endorsements...”
“We don't advertise,” the woman said simply. “There is no need.”
“Really? I am pretty sure.”
“Cynnamon, in the time since you have made that statement, it has been heard by almost fifty Daneel entities and they all agree. We do not doubt you but we are stating that you did not receive a Daneel advertisement. You are mistaken. We promise.”
“Oh,” Cyn responded as the woman rose from her chair.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” the woman smiled and her face changed to another and then yet another. “Until we meet again...”
The faces flitted by faster now and Cynnamon speculated that she was seeing all the members of the DRO. It was then that she saw a face that seemed familiar. She gasped as the woman walked away and recognition bloomed. She had seen Trent.
Tym
Tym had found a quiet table on the back porch of Transom House, near their gardens. He had been allowing himself the guilty pleasure of daily study time among the other guests and the comely hospies which attended them.
One could learn a lot from a hospitality asset. He admired their ability to convey such warmth, such genuine interest while efficiently understanding and tending to your needs. The male hospies were like a trusted friend and companion. And the females? They could put you in mind of your mother doing your laundry or the pretty girl across the street who brought you cookies because she heard you were sick. He was even thinking these things when she appeared at his side.
“How are you this morning?”
He looked up, startled at first, and then completely surprised. He had wondered what had become of the Techview asset, the one who had shared his limo and to whom he had made the 'Oz' comment, Mother's operative. He had wondered but he never expected to find her here, waiting tables?
“Ahhh, I'd like some coffee, please,” he blurted, his eyes rising along her tanned shoulder, her slender neck to the dark, glittering eyes.
“Let me fetch that for you. Real coffee? Or the village construct? And how would you like it?”
“Oh, actually I like the real stuff,” Tym replied, recovering from his surprise. “With a little milk and a cheese sandwich to make the order a little decadent.”
It was definitely the girl from the shuttle, he realized, but why would they have one of Mother's people here? Was it some type of cover?
“I have a sneaky love for cheese as well, but I take it with tea,” the young woman smiled. “Anything else? Are you enjoying your stay at Transom House?”
“You seem very familiar, perhaps I have seen you here before?” He had not seen her on the porch before, he was certain.
“It's possible, Mr. Matheson. I'll fetch your order and you can think of new ways to avoid my questions.”
She gave him a dazzling smile and was off. As good as any hospie he had ever experienced. He turned back to his work and tried to keep his eyes from following her as she walked away.
He wouldn't push her. Tym knew better that to get involved in the business of any of Mother's operatives. He had no idea why she was in New Berlyn but Mother had asked him to let her know if he saw her. So he would do that. Mother would know why she was serving breakfast...or find out.
It was when he paid his bill that he took special note of how she had signed the virtual check.
Thank you!
Dorothy.
Ann and Ryk
Ann allowed her body to relax in the soft, over-sized lawn chair as she looked out over the colorful and exotic trees of Transom Garden. She felt the same breeze which was causing their leaves to flutter and their limbs to gently sway. The domes were too warm, she felt, and so the cooling air was more than welcome. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open at a thought.
“How is there wind here, inside a dome?” she said out loud and looked over at Ryk with a questioning rise of her brow. Of course she knew that he, like her, was no domer; so he might be wondering the same thing.
“It's manufactured, like everything here. Large fans move the tops of the gardens and the motion percolates down, mostly it is to strengthen the trees. Not sure how much good it really does; I saw them replace two trees already this week and how long do you think any of this would last in a real gale?”
“There are some days, I long to find out,” laughed Ann with a tinge of bitterness. In truth, she could not wait to get back to Techview, to her villages, to her root gardens. If not for her mission...but already she knew it was no longer her only local interest. She was concerned about the enigmatic Miriam, she wanted to help her if possible and, obviously, she was a little attracted to the Uncle. If not for the seriousness of the matter, she would certainly have already taken him to bed and they could move on with any real possibility of a relationship that might exist...or not.
As if knowing the subject of at least some of her thoughts, he confided, “I know I said I would try to speak with Miri before today. But I've made zero progress and her headaches are more frequent.”
“Same here,” Ann nodded. “And yet she contacts me almost daily, wanting to know how she can help me and suggesting I enlist your help. I think...I think she means for us to get together...”
Ann realized that she hadn't said that exactly the way she meant it and when she looked over, he was eyeing her with extreme interest and a touch of embarrassment.
“You mean...”
“Don't be silly,” she smiled. “I mean that she wants us to talk, to compare notes. Somehow we might be able to help her together in some way we have not been able to do apart. It is so strange, sometimes I feel like she is my own daughter and sometimes I feel like I am talking to a ghost.”
“She told me, when I first arrived, that I should be patient and that she would explain. But every time I try to ask her questions, her eyes grow distant and if I push it...”
“I know. I know. Well, at least you are her Uncle, you had years to form a bond with her. Honestly, I am not sure why it is I like her so much after so little time. I suppose she reminds me of my youngest. Do you have any children, Ryk?”
“No...no. Just plenty of nephews and nieces. But Miri has always been special but very difficult. She is delightful but also stubborn and secretive.”
“Yes, a
difficult combination.”
“Sorry for the wait, what can I get you both to drink?” A new voice interrupted the pair.
Ann recognized the voice and looked over at the waitress. She looked tired, strands of her silky black hair had come loose from where she had tied them and were dangling around her ears and forehead; and she walked with a slight limp, probably developing blisters from carrying food all day to over-indulgent corpers.
“Well, fancy seeing you here!” Ann said with mock surprise.
“Hullo,” Cyn responded. “A hospie told me that I had been requested specially to this table?”
Ryk looked first at the young woman and then over at Ann. She gave him a reassuring look.
“Well, I saw you the other day, I was pretty sure, and then I thought I must be wrong, it's a long story but...” Ann was sure she must sound like she was babbling to Ryk, but in truth she had been practicing her verbal codes, a talent with which Sister Cynnamon was proficient. Her coded question was direct and to the point, she asked Cynnamon if she could help them find her friend.
“There is a menu on the table if your AI didn't bring it up,” Cyn started with a practiced tone. “I can't do much for you without the details of your order.”
And there it was. The girl hardly bothered to code her reply. Ann wasn't even asking for specific information as yet. She simply wanted to know if the asset had the ability to help her. As far as the details, she was loathe to tell a corporate asset, even a member of the Sisterhood, that she was looking for the highest ranking local member of their order.
“Well, I'll just have a cold root tea,” Ryk offered helpfully but the confusion was evident on his face.
“I never pegged you for a waitress, have you worked here long?” Ann asked pleasantly. It irked her that this girl continued to subjugate herself to the will of these animals. Ann didn't know much about Cyn, but she was certainly bright and talented, she shouldn't be here, allowing her body to be groped by drunken domers. Just because they took her in as a child did not mean...
“I have enough experience. I tended bar in Techview for almost a year,” Cyn admitted somehow oblivious to Ann's provocation.
And then Ann heard another, familiar voice, as a lithe, leggy, beauty appeared.
“I thought it was you!” Miriam exclaimed happily, her coppered hair sparkling.
“Oh...hi,” Cyn replied, “I remember you from the train, right? Can I get you something to drink?”
“A tall glass of ice water would be heavenly,” Miriam beamed.
“How about some fresh peppermint root tea, not too sweet,” Ann added with a satisfied smile.
Cyn grinned and assured them she would be right back.
Miriam slid into a seat.
“I told you she was here. I'll never forget my friends still in Sponsorship. I promise you that,” Miriam looked at both of them. “Speaking of which, did she help you with your friend? Or are you both too busy chatting to remember to ask her?”
She gave them yet another self-satisfied look and Ann did not look over to see how Ryk was reacting to the innuendo. It was interesting that whatever had been bothering Miriam did not seem to be affecting her now.
“Your headache seems better. Tell me, how long have you known this Cyn?” Ann began. She was wondering if any personal question caused Miriam problems or if it were only certain ones.
“We met at the train station, in Techview. She waited with me until Petyr showed up.”
“Do you trust her?” Ann asked, now genuinely interested. Miriam did not seem the trusting sort.
“Until I have reason not to,” Miriam gave her a knowing grin, “How about you?”
“I know that her overwhelming priority is this place, this corporation...so I try to remember that.”
“Lower priority is not the same as lower reliability,” scolded Miriam as she placed a finger to her lips as Cyn returned with their order.
Ann watched Miriam observe the dark haired asset as she flawlessly delivered the drinks to everyone and politely asked them if they wanted anything else.
“I'm not hungry,” Ann informed her.
“This drink is fine, thank you,” added Ryk.
“Somehow you look great, even in that frumpy apron they make you wear,” Miriam began.
“I hate it,” Cyn confided, “and it gets stained with something different every day and it takes me thirty minutes past shift to wash it clean. But, thanks. It's high praise coming from you.”
“I know!” laughed Miriam so infectiously that they all laughed with her.
“Anything to eat? It's on the house,” encouraged Cynnamon.
“I can pay, I have a real job now” Miriam said quickly, “but I am literally starving, how about the olive sandwich with lilypad chips, is it good?”
“It's great, I love it, but it takes longer to prepare. I also like the fish salad and I can get it right away.”
“Its not slimy, is it?” Miriam pouted, brushing a lock of her hair back.
“I promise,” Cyn laughed. “I'll make sure of it.”
“Okay, well, I'll try it, if you think I'll like it,” Miriam said hopefully.
Cyn turned to Ann.
“Did you have a picture of your friend? In case I see her?”
Now Ann was caught off-guard. She really didn't have a picture.
“I don't, and as you are cooped up here all day, it's not like you could help me look anyway.”
“Got it, I'll put that in for you.” Cyn turned and left.
Miriam turned to them.
“She can't help you? Are you sure?”
“She can't even leave the building, it's a waste of time to involve her in this. I'd say she needs our help more than we need hers.”
“I got out without anyone's help, I wouldn't underestimate this one either, desperation breeds possibilities. Let me talk to her again.”
Ann watched as the formerly depressed and languid girl sprang to her heeled feet and intercepted the quickly moving waitress. Ann furtively watched their interactions and was able to hear most of their conversation.
“Wait,” Miriam insisted, unhappy. “It was nice to bump into you, I looked for you at the station, you must have run off pretty quickly?”
“Don't remind me, I spent the night in that horrid place,” Cyn laughed carefully.
“I'm not used to not having full access to you. It was easier to speak with you when you were trapped on the train. Are you always here?”
Cyn looked into her eyes. Village girl to village girl, it seemed.
“You know how it is, I work where I'm told, when I'm needed.”
Miriam nodded.
“Well, if we really needed to find her friend, how would we do it? Is there a way?”
Cyn sighed.
“You'd need to pull some strings...”
Miriam beamed.
“I knew you would think of something. I'll handle the string-pulling, tell me.”
Cyn leaned forward and spoke quietly but Ann could read her lips, “Have you heard of a face-reader?”
Special Event
Cyn slid one long leg over the other and sat back in the chair. Her eyes were dark with annoyance. She looked away from the man, an officer with Transom's hospitality branch, her supervisor.
“Every time,” she began slowly, checking her anger, “every time I request a meeting with someone from Operations, anyone from Operations, you tell me it is in the queue and I'm given a new assignment in Hospitality,” Cyn spoke clearly. “But you can never give me an update on when my request will be addressed and it should have been processed within two days as per corporate policy.”
He looked back at her, clearly irritated, “I don't understand, you pledged to serve the company but you are unhappy with your assignments?”
“I am not complaining about the assignments, I have not protested any of them, I am asking about my requests to speak with an Operations manager. I have to go through you for that. I am an operations asset and
I have the right to speak with someone from that section if and when I have the need.”
“Why?”
“I have a matter to discuss and you know that I can't discuss operations issues with you.”
“Well, as I said, your request is submitted and your current status is unassigned, which means we can pull you as needed. What do you have against hospies?”
“I have nothing against it, I started as a hospie, I trained as a hospie and I have done my best. But,” she looked up at him and knew that she needed to stir the pot a little, otherwise he was not going to budge, “there are rules that restrict where and under what capacity I can be assigned. I need to have this interview, that is all I am asking for.”
There. It was said. What choice did she have?
The man was speechless, he stared at her with piercing eyes, his mind stewing. Suddenly, he came to some decision and stammered:
“We have a special event tonight,” he demanded, standing, his upper lip trembling with anger. “It is for some of our VIP clients and I need some new girls to work it.”
Well, that didn't work, Cyn mused, also standing. But she did have a plan B.
“How nice,” she responded absently. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“I need some replacement entertainers, and your file shows you have experience,” he added, his eyes desperately watched for the reaction that he wanted, whatever it was - outrage, indignation, perhaps even desperation. She wouldn't give him any of that.
Instead she turned, and walked out of his office, past the kitchens and the laundries and into the lobby.
Entertainment experience? He was certainly reaching, her hospie training had gotten as far as a serving at a med bar, never into entertainment. But after she had been sent over to Ops, she had once gone undercover at a club named 'Lunar Dolls'. Perhaps he had found that reference. She was not there long, but had learned enough to know that 'new girls' at these clubs could have a very difficult first night. She certainly would not be part of this idiot's animal party.
She really only needed to verify that he had not approved her request. She had two different branches both refusing to hear her report. That changed things and sometimes knowing procedures and protocols was an ace-in-the-hole. Now she only needed to find someone who believed in those rules and she thought she knew one such person but that might be a long-shot as well.
