Anger Management

by Lawrence M Schoen

  None of it bothered Potato. It seemed beyond content. It didn’t move. It just sat there looking happy and stupid until the movement inside the lumps first slowed and then stopped entirely. That's when Potato began to keen.

  Tycho pulled her toes away from the puddle of drool that Potato was depositing on the table. “Yuck,” she said.

  Potato arched its back and the keening increased in volume as the pustules throbbed and resumed their growth, this time in rhythm to the throbbing. Potato didn’t seem to be crying out in pain, but the noise started to hurt everyone else in the room. The ululation was high-pitched and just plain awful.

  “This sucks,” Coop said.

  «Could you cover our ears, please?»

  Cooper readily complied with Dyrk’s request. It helped only a little.

  Potato began rocking back and forth. Its first deliberate movement since the now fist-sized protrusions had appeared. As it moved, the pustules swayed, stretching his skin still further as they waggled about.

  Jess looked fascinated. Coop just tried to keep from throwing up.

  Then, with a slow sucking sound, one of the growths dropped to the table with a ‘plop.’

  Coop shivered. “Eww. That is not okay.”

  Jessica continued to stare. “Don’t be such a baby. This is fascinating.”

  The second pustule fell and rolled to a stop near the edge of the able. Then the third followed suit.

  Tycho curled into a ball, a look of utter revulsion on her face. Coop knew how she felt.

  Silence reigned. Potato stopped moving and settled back down onto its belly. Its keening stopped and once again, it was a motionless, short-haired, blue and green lump.

  But the lavender pustules moved.

  Coop stood on his tip-toes and pointed. “Whoa! Now what’s it doing?”

  Even Jessica looked shocked. “I don’t know.” She leaned down to examine it more closely.

  Then its eyes popped open and examined her right back.

  Jess screeched and fell backwards out of her chair.

  Coop laughed. “Didn’t you just call me a baby?”

  The doctor picked herself up. She ignored Cooper and slowly approached the table where all three growths had now sprouted tiny legs, eyes, and little slits for mouths. The latter already dangled their tongues onto the surface of the table.

  Coop came back to the table and leaned down next to Jess. Even Tycho loosened up enough to peer down at the trio of adorable mini-Potatoes. Each of them tottered to one of the nearby humans and insisted on being picked up. They all obliged with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The tiny aliens settled in and began licking.

  “Incredible,” Jess murmured, her eyes wide with fascination. “Do you know what this means? Do you understand the scientific significance of this, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I understand that tater-tots are ruined for me. Forever. And that is a crime against humanity.”

  Jess sighed heavily but Tycho chuckled.

  «Nice one.»

  Chapter 28

  After the shock of the weird alien birth wore off — or they'd all at least numbed to it — Jess managed to catch Tycho up on everything else that had transpired. All things considered, she took it well. She only had one question.

  “How long has it been since I had real food?”

  Jess considered. “Many months.”

  Tycho smiled. “That’s what it feels like. Do you have anything to eat?”

  “Oh my gosh, of course. But you’ll have to go slow. Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  The group adjourned to the kitchen where Dyrk, after speed-reading through several cookbooks they had found in the habitat's digital library, scrounged up enough bits and pieces from dry storage to whip up a poor man's frittata.

  «Humble beginnings, working with powdered eggs. But I'm already seeing the allure. There's room for so much… creativity.»

  “Just don't poison us, okay? And don't take it bad if Tycho doesn't like what you made, she hasn't used her taste buds in a long time.”

  They ate a wordless meal, punctuated by the occasional nummy sound, each alone with their thoughts and their miniature alien fuzzballs.

  When the dishes were cleared and Coop returned to the table, Jess finally spoke.

  “This changes everything. Absolutely everything.”

  “Everything? What are you including in everything? And why? Um, not why about what you include, why does it change things?” Coop asked, already nervous.

  “I believe we should, no, I believe we must stay here on Titan. There is simply too much to be learned. I need to study Tycho. I need to study all the Potatoes. Not to mention the virus itself. Now I can experiment with it along with Potato’s pheromones. This has to be documented and if we wait things might change. Earth itself might affect the outcome of the experiments.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Can we just slow down a second? We have literally been risking our lives to get back to Earth. We have an alien crime boss making those arrangements. Again. And the Box may very well return to Titan looking for us. You know they won't stop until they get Potato back.”

  Jess nodded. “I know. I know. It sounds crazy to me too. But it feels… right. The potential here is enormous. For science. For medicine. For… humanity.” She pointed to Tycho. “This girl was brain dead and now she's walking around fine. You were days away from dying of cirrhosis and not only do you now have a healthy new liver, you're thirty years younger! Imagine being able to bring that to the world.”

  Cooper sighed and put his face in his hands. “It’s getting late,” he mumbled. “Can we agree to table this until after we get some sleep? I’m exhausted.”

  “I can agree to that. It’s probably a very good idea.”

  “Okay.” Coop stood up from the table and went in search of a place to curl up and catch some sleep.

  On his way out the door he heard Tycho whisper to Jess. “He's really thirty years older? Ewww.”

  Chapter 29

  A few hours after the lunch service but before they opened for dinner, Al sat at his private table in the back of the restaurant at Palais Titan. He rose as the maître d'hôtel escorted the Diamond Queen and Big Tony his way. Both were dressed to the nines, and it had been some time since either had visited the moon's most expensive dining establishment, let alone been Al's guest.

  “I've asked the chef to prepare something special for you,” said Al. “I'm confident you'll find it to your liking. But first, there's a topic I'd like to discuss.”

  The wine steward appeared at Al's elbow, offering a bottle of champagne for his inspection and moments later had poured three glasses and vanished.

  “Are you trying to butter us up before hitting us with this topic of yours?” Big Tony set aside the cigar he'd been chewing and swirled his glass before tossing half of it back.

  “Nothing of the kind,” said Al.

  “What is the topic?” asked the Diamond Queen.

  “Art.”

  “Art?”

  “Allow me to explain.”

  “Please.” She took a sip of her drink, smiled, and took another.

  “Recently I had an epiphany—”

  “Gesundheit,” said Big Tony.

  Al glared at him. “This will go much faster if you keep the droll comments to yourself and avoid further interruptions.”

  “Fine. An epiphany.”

  “That epiphany, which upended things I have believed to be absolute truth for many years, led me to consider other things which I imagine we all take for granted.”

  “Such as?”

  “The people of Titan lack hope. Many of them arrive with dreams and ambitions, but all too quickly the reality of this place beats them down. Indeed, the ease with which we three run everything here is due, I now see, to the hopelessness of the residents.”

  “Is there a point to this?” asked Big Tony as he pointed at the bottle in the champagne bucket.

  Al refilled glasses all around the table. The Diamond Q
ueen lifted hers in a brief toast. Big Tony drank his down and waggled his glass for another refill before Al had set the bottle down.

  “My point is that I believe we can improve the lives of the people here — and by extension improve our respective profits — by establishing a few modest programs in support of the arts.”

  The Diamond Queen smiled. “And you'd like us to share in the costs?”

  Al shrugged. “That's entirely up to you. An investment now would entitle you to a proportional percentage of the profits. I'm prepared to shoulder the burden myself, but if so, I'd prefer to avoid complaints from either of you later that you didn't have the opportunity to get in at the beginning.”

  Big Tony scowled. “When you say art, are you talking like paintings? You want to open some kind of museum?”

  “Painting, yes. I thought we might start with a gallery. And also an institute, modest at first, but with every intention of expanding to include sculpture, literature, music, and theatre.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the recent visit from Doos?” The Diamond Queen's tone was surprisingly soft.”

  “Only indirectly. Though it is fair to say that the Box would be bewildered by the idea. They don't comprehend art.”

  “And how is this good for business?”

  “It will attract interest. A market where we control the supply which in turn will drive up demand. Art produced on Titan will be sought after precisely because it is unlike anything available anywhere else. And our citizenry will feel they are a part of that.”

  Big Tony shook his head. “I don't see how that follows.”

  Al smiled. “It is like the affinity ordinary people back on Earth feel for their local sports ball teams. They do not themselves participate, nor train, nor partake of the extravagant salaries some individuals command. Nonetheless, they become psychologically connected, feel themselves a part of something bigger than themselves. And this in turn distracts them from their drab and sorrowful lives.”

  The Diamond Queen tapped a finger against her champagne glass. “And you believe you can produce a similar effect through art?”

  “I just ask you to consider it. What is the Terran expression, sleep on it? Ah, but our dinner comes. Enough of business. Speaking of art, the chef here at the Palais creates masterpieces…”

  Chapter 30

  Morning came and Coop found himself making coffee in the kitchen at the habitat. Jess and Tycho must have been exhausted. He decided to let them sleep. So, he settled into a chair with his cup and some instant oatmeal he’d found in a cupboard. His new miniature Potato rested snuggly on his left shoulder.

  «You know, steel cut oats would taste so much better.»

  “How long would that take?”

  «Maybe twenty or thirty minutes.»

  “This took two. And I'm hungry now. And we don't have the supplies in the first place.”

  «Sure, but I'm just saying, next time. Okay?»

  “Tell you what, you make up a list of ingredients for the things you want to try cooking — a modest list, don't get crazy on me — and the next time we go to the spaceport we'll go shopping.”

  «Deal!»

  Coop added some sugar to his coffee and turned on his tablet. He had a message waiting for him. From Al.

  Call me

  «He doesn’t waste a lot of words, does he?»

  “No, he does not. I don’t know if I should respect that or be terrified.”

  «Are they mutually exclusive?»

  “Not at all. Good point.”

  Coop tapped the button to reply, triggering the tablet's comm function. The alien answered almost immediately.

  “Ah, Cooper. Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Al. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Small chance of that, Cooper. Clusterans sleep very little compared to humans.”

  “Good to know. How are things?”

  “Things are going well. Your three friends managed to depart the spaceport on the first shuttle this morning. They have arrived at the orbital terminal and should continue on to Earth shortly.”

  “That is good news.” Coop was relieved.

  “It is. However, you should know that another Doos avatar arrived shortly after.”

  “That is not good news.”

  Al shrugged. “Actually, it may be. The Box went straight to spaceport security and demanded access to their video feeds. The security folks had been advised to comply in order to keep the Box peaceful and get it back off the moon as quickly as possible. My sources tell me that Doos confirmed that three humans with the appropriate identification departed on the shuttle.”

  “So, Doos bought it?”

  “It certainly appears that way. After watching the video and checking the manifests, the Doos returned to its own ship and requested an immediate departure slot. It returned to orbit right before I messaged you.”

  “So, it’s gone?”

  “It is in the process. The Box ship has changed the itinerary it had previously filed. It is now bound for Earth in the next available jump window.”

  “Doos just doesn’t give up, doos it?”

  «Heh. Good one, Ben.»

  “It would appear not.”

  Coop considered this news.

  “Al, are you certain that if more Box arrive here, that you’ll know it.”

  “I am. I track all arrivals and departures in this section of space. And in my experience the Box are anything but subtle. It would never occur to any of them to be anything less than brazen and overt when they travel. Nor can they avoid customs if they wish to enter the spaceport. As a man in the import-export business, I have sources in that line of work.”

  Coop chuckled. “Okay, thanks for the heads up. I need to talk to Jess about our next move. We’ll get back to you.”

  Al nodded and closed the connection without another word.

  «So, what is our next step?» Dyrk asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought I’d be pumped up to return to Earth. But, I’m not sure what’s there for me now.”

  «Don’t you miss acting?»

  “I do. I miss the art. I miss the thrill. But I don’t miss Hollywood one bit. I don’t miss the business or the culture. And it's not like I've done any significant work for years. Besides, these past few days I’ve started to feel like maybe I have a new role to play.”

  «Don’t you need a job?»

  Coop scratched at the stubble on his chin. “No. Not really. The money we made selling off the Box technology will pay all my outstanding debts and leave a lot left over. And I don't have to give fifteen percent to Sylvia or pay taxes on it if I do it right. Huh. I bet Al knows a good accountant who could help with that.

  «Sounds illegal to me.»

  “Would that be a problem for you, if it were?”

  «Not especially, I'm just saying.»

  “Good, because it's an American tradition to cheat on your taxes to whatever extent you can get away with.”

  «Huh. I did not know that.»

  “Anyway… I already sent a transfer to cover my daughter’s college expenses for the next few years. There's nothing else I can think of to throw cash at.”

  «But you could spend it. On stuff. That's a tradition too, isn't it?»

  “Sure. But that’s what I've always done. I chased money. I spent money. I acquired… stuff. And in the end, I had nothing I cared about to show for it. Money really doesn’t buy happiness, Dyrk.”

  «I’ve watched a lot of movies Ben. And nearly every one of them suggests otherwise.»

  Coop laughed, which in turn set Spud scampering over his neck to settle in on the opposite shoulder. “I guess they do. But they’re wrong. Now that I have been able to take care of my kid and get rid of my debts, I realize that I’d do things differently. Getting this money didn’t make me happy, it freed me from the prison of debt I’d created for myself. We have the chance to make a difference here, Dyrk. And I can’t remember the last time I could say that.”
/>
  «I’ll have to study this.»

  “You do that. In the meantime, try and come up with a plan for the Tots. We’re now stuck with the little monsters. And they've already started growing. It's probably just a couple days before they get their fur, and then they'll be even more insufferably cute.” Coop gently rubbed the little alien’s back, musing about potential courses of action.

  A pair of identical teenagers entered the kitchen. Coop recognized Jess by her lab coat.

  “Hey, Jess. Hey, Tycho.”

  “Good morning,” Jess said. Tycho just gave him a nod.

  Coop turned in his chair. Jess looked wide awake. Her hair was tied up and she was already tapping away on her tablet. Behind her Tycho looked more like the zombie she had so recently been. Each of them had a purple alien clinging to their shoulder. The original Potato was nowhere to be seen, probably sleeping like a lump back in the lab where they'd left it.

  “Good morning. There’s coffee on the counter. And Al called.”

  Tycho shuffled her way over to the coffee and poured herself a steaming mug before she joined Coop at the table. Jess remained standing, but looked at Coop expectantly.

  “What did Al have to say?”

  “That we appear to be in the clear, for now.”

  “Your friends made it out?”

  “Yep. And the Box followed. To Earth.”

  “Oh. They are persistent.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I said. Did you have any revelations about these little guys overnight?”

  Jess nodded her head. “Some. No answers. But I was able to stew over alien mitosis a bit.”

  “Say what?”

  “Mitosis. The process by which a cell divides and creates two or more identical cells. It’s the closest way to understand what is going on here.” Jess continued to talk and Coop did his best to keep up as she started to use terms like ‘prophase,’ ‘anaphase,’ and ‘metaphase.’