by E. M. Foner
“Only if you aren’t going to serve them immediately,” Jonah told her. “They’re ready to eat now.”
The girl took a small nibble from the ball she had rolled, said, “Yummy,” and then extended her arm to the host, holding the ball up in front of his mouth. “You try.”
Jonah felt his ears burning as he tried to take a sample from the date ball without nuzzling her fingers. Years of working in employee training and management at InstaSitter should have made him immune to flirting, but Sephia had blown through his defenses like they were tissue paper. The rest of the show went by in a blur, and he hardly knew what he was doing or saying. When Jonah got to the final commercial break, the assistant director hopped back on stage and went right to the girl.
“Listen,” the Grenouthian said to her. “Are you here for the whole week?”
“Yes,” Sephia said. “I’m flying our demonstration floater around the Galaxy Room when it’s our turn for the space, and I’ll be in the race there on the last day.”
“How about coming back on the show? I can give you the standard five-day guest contract and you won’t be disappointed by the compensation.”
“Oh, I’d love that. Is it okay with you, Jonah?” she asked, putting her hand on his forearm and fixing him with those bright blue eyes.
“Yes,” he croaked.
“Great,” the assistant director said. “Don’t forget to mention the room discount again in your final plug, Jonah, and the producer wants you to stop in at the all-species doctor on the travel concourse for a quick checkup. You aren’t yourself today, but Sephia made the whole thing work. Great chemistry you two.”
Jonah got through the closing on autopilot, then reflexively folded up his apron and put it on the counter for the intern to collect for the laundry.
“So?” Sephia asked. “Do you have supper plans?”
“I usually eat with my parents,” he said, and then realized how young that made him sound. “My twin sister is away, though, and my parents are pretty busy because of the whole Human Empire thing, so if you wanted—”
“Why do you think I was asking?” She put her own apron on the counter and took possession of his arm. “I can’t eat in a restaurant dressed like this, so let’s go up to my room and I’ll get changed.”
Eleven
“…and so it was determined that an auction would offer the best mechanism for discovering the true interests of the sovereign human communities,” Kelly said, her amplified voice easily reaching the crowd of sales reps and buyers from the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities who were packed into the Galaxy Room for the keynote speech. “The procedures outlined by the ad hoc committee to staff departmental working groups by auctioning seats will enable us to reach a decision on the Human Empire issue by the conclusion of the tradeshow and to move forward with the Thousand Cycle option if that’s approved. So without further ado, get ready to put your money where your mouth is, and I’ll turn the lectern over to your auctioneer for this evening, Shaina Cohan.”
Daniel’s wife surprised the ambassador with a high-five as they passed each other on the stage. Kelly returned to the folding chair where she’d left her purse in the reserved section of the onstage seating set aside for the alien ambassadors and observers.
“We ended up with nine governmental departments for which I’ll be auctioning seats,” Shaina announced. “The rules are simple, with the high bidder for each department becoming the working group’s chairperson, the second-highest bidder given the right of rejection to a seat at their last bid, followed by anybody else who’s interested. If need be, we’ll go to the third-highest bid, et cetera. Each community is limited to one working group seat, so choose the department that’s most important to you. Any questions?”
“You expect us to bid to sit on committees?” a man with prosthetic second thumbs called out, drawing laughter from all over the amphitheater.
“If you don’t, we’ll have to come up with a different methodology for selecting representatives, which will undoubtedly be more expensive and time-consuming,” Shaina warned them. “If the working groups vote against establishing the Human Empire, their work will be done, but if you think the aliens look down on you now, wait until you’ve rejected the opportunity to stand on your own feet.”
There was a groan from the audience, and a different man called out in a reluctant voice, “How will the voting work?”
“Given nine governmental department working groups and five seats on each committee, the odd numbers preclude a tie. Those of you representing large populations will be allowed a proportionate amount of debate time on your working group which can be ceded back to the chair if you have nothing to say. We’ve tentatively scheduled the meetings for each evening after the tradeshow closes, and the EarthCent embassy will pay for your meals if you choose to meet in a restaurant.”
There was a murmur of interest at this last statement as everybody began calculating how high of a bid a week of free dinners would justify. Shaina also heard somebody loudly pointing out that they were already on an expense account so it wasn’t fair.
“And if we agree to go ahead with this Thousand Cycle plan, how long will the working group members be stuck in their seats?” a woman in the front row asked.
“We’ll be leaving that decision to the collective wisdom of the new seat holders,” Shaina said.
“How about proxies?” a man from a Frunge open world with a symbolic sprig of herbs on his lapel inquired. “Our factory manager isn’t arriving until tomorrow. If I bid on a seat, can I pass it on to her?”
“The seat belongs to your sovereign community. As far as we’re concerned you can change the individual attending the meeting every time the working group meets. And I want to remind you that with a total of just forty-five seats to divide amongst every community represented here, most of you will be watching from the sidelines,” Shaina said. “But don’t confuse not participating with a vote for the status quo. The ad hoc committee has bound itself to the collective decision of the working groups, so majority rules.”
“And what happens to the money we bid?” a woman sitting higher up on the amphitheater seating called out.
“All of the creds raised tonight will go into the scholarship fund for children from sovereign human communities attending boarding school on Flower. Are there any further questions before we begin?”
“I’m glad you could make it,” Kelly whispered to Bork, while Shaina took a question about how the bidding process would work from somebody who had never attended an auction.
“None of us knew you were going to invent a new form of election,” the Drazen ambassador replied in his normal tone of voice. “If you had told us ahead of time, we might have sent serious observers.”
“Don’t worry about noise,” Ambassador Crute added from behind Kelly. “An old friend of mine manages the convention center, and I had him activate a one-way audio suppression field for our section of the stage. We can talk without causing a disruption.”
“—and we’ve hired InstaSitters to assist with bid spotting,” Shaina concluded. “No other questions? Good. The first department we’re auctioning off is trade. Let’s start the bidding at one thousand, just to get warmed up. One thousand creds, give me one, one for fun, give me one. Come on people, the eyes of the galaxy are upon you. One thousand creds to chair the Department of Trade working group for the Human Empire.”
Kelly felt a tap on her shoulder, and twisting around, she saw the Horten ambassador leaning in her direction.
“Can I bid?” Ortha asked.
“I don’t think so, no,” the EarthCent ambassador replied. “It’s for sovereign human community representatives only.”
“One, one, one,” Shaina tried again. “I’d like to say if I don’t get a thousand I’ll just keep the seat for myself, but it doesn’t work that way. How about it, Larry?” she asked, calling out the head of the Independent Traders Guild council by name. “Do you want to see somebody else win the cha
irpersonship?”
“I’m already on the ad hoc committee,” he replied from the fourth row of the stadium seating.
“Nothing in the rules prevents you from sitting on both. We just can’t seat a Traders Guild rep on two working groups.”
“I don’t have a budget,” he countered. “Could you start at a hundred?”
“A hundred creds?” Shaina cast a pained look in her husband’s direction, but Daniel just shrugged, so the auctioneer said, “Very well. I have one hundred creds,” and pointed at Larry without waiting for him to raise his hand. “I have a hundred, give me two. Two hundred creds to make history. Give me two or I’ll be blue. Two. Two. Two. Come on, think of the poor children in need of a scholarship. One-fifty. One Five-Oh. I’ve sold shoes at charity auctions for more than one-fifty. One twenty-five? One twenty-five? Listen, people. If we don’t get another bid, it will screw up the whole system because there won’t be a runner up.”
“You should have started lower,” somebody called out.
“Lower than a hundred? You’ll save more than that on meals if you stretch the meetings out for the whole week. Oops, did I just say that out loud? One-ten. Come on, somebody bid one-ten and I’ll add the ten myself.”
“One-ten,” a woman way up in the seating offered.
“I have one-ten. Let’s go, Larry. Give me twenty. It’s just money. Twenty. Twenty. Don’t get funny. One twenty?”
“Will you reimburse me for the twenty?” he asked.
“I should have known better than to start with the Department of Trade,” Shaina said in frustration. “You all know how to haggle. Very well. One twenty going once? One twenty going twice? The chairmanship for the Department of Trade working group is sold to Larry, representing the Independent Traders Guild.”
There was a round of applause in the packed amphitheater, with the most enthusiastic clapping coming from the small section of ambassadors and observers seated on stage, though nobody outside the audio suppression field could hear it.
“Fascinating,” the Frunge ambassador said to Kelly. “It appears that the members of your sovereign communities are in no hurry to grasp power.”
“Daniel warned me it could go this way, Czeros,” she replied. “The CoSHC membership has always been focused on business. Most of them live on worlds where government means collecting fees for utilities and services and that’s the end of it.”
“Dring is in seventh heaven,” the Drazen ambassador commented, and gestured to where the Maker stood at a small folding table that Aabina had procured to give the reptilian shape-shifter a place to smooth out his scroll and write. “I’ll have to ask him later if he’s ever heard of somebody holding an auction for a government before.”
“I’m just hoping it doesn’t turn into a failed auction,” Kelly said. “We should have arranged for shills to run up the bidding.”
“Either shills or reserve bids,” the Grenouthian ambassador said agreeably. “Assuming your offer to buy meals includes drinks, some of the lucky winners are going to come out ahead on the deal.”
“Libby,” Kelly subvoced. “Could you ping Shaina and tell her that drinks are included in the embassy’s offer?”
Shaina made the announcement and the bids immediately jumped, turning Larry’s seat as chairman into the bargain of the night. Then there was a commotion behind the ambassador, and Kelly turned to see a pair of alien observers arguing over a plastic bottle of Union Station Springs water, one of the gifts Aabina and Samuel had placed in all of the swag bags.
Ambassador Ortha, his skin blazing an angry red, got between the Horten and the Sharf before the observers could come to blows. “What’s this all about?” he demanded.
“I set my water on the floor to check if there were any salty snacks left in my bag and Mr. Rainbow grabbed it,” the Sharf hissed angrily.
If anybody outside of the seating section had noticed the disturbance, they were doing a good job ignoring it, and Shaina started the bidding for chairpersonship of the Department of Agriculture working group at five hundred creds.
“Look,” the Horten said, getting down on his hands and knees and pointing at a rapidly fading circle of condensation on the deck. “He set the bottle down inside the boundary made by the legs of my chair. That’s the same as giving it to me.”
“Odds or evens,” the Sharf observer issued the universal challenge.
“Evens,” the Horten grunted and made a fist.
The Sharf did the same, and they each counted to three while pumping their forearms up and down. On the third move, both of them stuck out a number of fingers.
“Odds,” the Sharf crowed triumphantly, snatching back the water bottle.
“Replay,” the Horten protested to Ortha. “He stuck out an extra finger after he saw my count.”
“Here,” a Vergallian female seated in the third row said, offering the Union Station Springs bottle from her swag bag. “I don’t drink out of plastic.”
“Six-thirty-five, keep it alive, six-thirty-five,” Shaina chanted from the lectern. “Six hundred and thirty-five creds to chair the working group for the Human Empire’s Department of Agriculture. Loosen those purse strings—the observers are laughing at us,” she added, pointing in the direction of the reserved seating section.
“Enough of that,” Crute admonished the pair of Dollnick observers. They had started an eight-handed game of cat’s cradle and gotten themselves so tangled up in the string that the other observers were dissolving in laughter. “If you aren’t interested in watching history unfold, you’re excused.”
“The tradeshow better be more fun than this or I want my money back,” the Drazen observer said, and then he pointed at his ear and his tentacle went up. “Showtime,” he told his female companion. “The Humans set up an open bar in the lobby for after the keynote and I tipped a bellboy to ping me when they started serving.”
Folding chairs scraped back as the observers all made a beeline for the nearest exit tunnel that went under the stadium seating. The two Dollnick observers still had half of their arms connected by a tangle of string, but it didn’t stop them from leaving together.
“What are we going to do if the whole Galaxy Room empties out to follow them?” Kelly asked in dismay.
“Don’t worry, we were prepared for this,” Crute said. “As soon as your auctioneer noticed the ruckus our observers were making, my friend in facilities began projecting a holographic loop overlay showing our seating section during your keynote address. Nobody saw the observers leave, and now we can get up and move around without creating a disturbance.”
“Doesn’t that mean my chair is suddenly empty? What will Shaina think?”
“Oops,” the Dollnick ambassador said. “Maybe the station librarian could help you out.”
“Libby?” Kelly subvoced. “We’re having a bit of a holographic emergency. Is there any chance you could paste me in so my seat doesn’t look empty?”
“Done,” the Stryx replied. “I’m sorry your auction got off to a rough start.”
“I don’t understand it myself. I thought the representatives from the sovereign human communities would jump at the chance to steer their own future.”
“I’m going to assume the weak bidding on those last two seats for the agricultural working group was due to crop failure,” the auctioneer said, glowering at her audience. “The next chairpersonship up for bid is for the Department of Manufacturing. Where’s Bob from Floaters?”
“Here,” the mayor who sat on the ad hoc committee replied reluctantly, raising his hand.
“I want to start the bidding at a thousand, Bob. You’ll give me a thousand, won’t you?”
“All of the money goes to the scholarship fund?”
“That’s right, and I’m not charging an auctioneer’s premium,” Shaina said. “A thousand?”
“A thousand,” the mayor of Floaters agreed.
“I know nobody is going to give me two thousand, but I have to ask. Two, two, two, tell me your ans
wer true. Two? All right, I won’t waste my time. One thousand going once. One thousand going twice. The chairpersonship of the manufacturing working group is sold to Bob from Chianga for one thousand creds.”
As Shaina started over at a lower bid to sell the remaining seats on the working group, Kelly asked Bork, “What’s the story with your observers? I thought they would be professionals, but they behave more like they’re on vacation.”
“The Drazen couple is on their honeymoon,” Bork told her. “I should have picked the observers myself, but I followed the standard procedure and let it go to our home office, where they decided to hold a gourd-off.”
“A what?”
“You know, where you sell a mountain of gourds for ten times what they’re worth, but a few of them have prizes inside? It’s how the home office raises money for team-building nights out.”
“It seems a bit insulting, Bork. Does everybody think that humans deciding whether or not to establish an empire is a joke?”
“According to the odds, it is,” the Thark ambassador said from his seat behind Bork. “None of the species sent serious diplomats as observers because they don’t believe Humans are stupid enough to reject this chance. It’s an incredible opportunity for your entire species. Once you get the empire set up, you can bring Earth onboard, and you’ll finally be off probation.”
“I don’t think we’re looking that far ahead,” Kelly admitted. “But why would anybody buy a raffle ticket, I mean, a gourd, for a chance to attend a political event for another species?”
“Luxury hotel accommodations, open bars, a tradeshow with free samples,” Bork enumerated. “They’re all getting first-class treatment, and opportunities like this don’t come up that often. If the observers are ambitious, they can go on the local talk-show circuit when they get home.”
“Now that you mention it, why haven’t I ever heard of humans being invited to observe a major event for another species?” the EarthCent ambassador asked.
“I doubt there’s been a local observers-required event since you became an ambassador.” Bork looked back towards the lectern where Shaina was calling out a sequence of rising numbers and pointing to where InstaSitters standing in the aisles were spotting the bidders. “I wonder which working group she’s auctioning off now?”
