Apoti was also incredibly well attired. She wore a pair of slim-cut seersucker pants that flared at the bottom over stylish flats with a sapphire finish. Her top was a sleeve-less, diaphanous affair of purest white. And it did nothing to disguise the avatar’s carefully designed…enhancements.
“Those seem wholly unnecessary.”
«Are you complaining?»
“No. But I’m starting to think we would have been better off letting Jess handle this transaction.”
«I can take over if you need me to.»
Coop stopped himself from laughing out loud.
“You’re the only person worse than me for this job. I mean, who in their right mind would trust an action-hero with anything, with cleavage like that around? You’d sell us out in a heartbeat.”
Dyrk offered no reply.
Apoti glided across the garage and extended a perfectly manicured bio-mechanical hand.
“You must be Theca. I am Apoti.”
Coop shook her hand. It was really soft. Then he forced himself to look up and meet her eyes.
«Is that shade of blue even legal? She should need a license to wield those things.»
You are not wrong.
“Nice to meet you, Apoti. Is this your pet?”
Apoti’s face twitched. It was the first time she looked truly artificial.
“Potato is much more than a pet. But yes, it's mine. And I am grateful to you for recovering it. Could you perhaps tell me more about how it happened? I just want to understand fully.”
«You’re on.»
Coop stroked Potato’s back and put on a mien of casual stupidity.
“Oh, this little dude. Yeah, I was hanging out at the spaceport a few days ago. Sometimes I can pick up work hauling luggage and stuff, you know. So, I was sitting down, and this lady comes walking in with an older dude and her little sister or something. But that chick was being pushed on a hover-bed. She looked mostly dead. But kinda cute.”
Apoti maintained a smile but motioned for Coop to move things along.
“Where was I? Oh yeah, so she walks up to me and I think, this chick is into me. And she probably was. I’ve lost some weight, you know? And I've been working out. But she says she’s in a hurry to leave and asks if I’d like to set myself up. So I said, sure. I wasn’t busy that day. Then she hands me this little dude and an envelope. I thought the envelope would have cash, but it just had a letter with instructions on how to contact you. And it said you’d make me rich.”
Apoti nodded. “I understand, and I appreciate you taking the time to tell me. Now, you said you would like the deed to the property comprising this ranch, as well as this habitat and all property contained therein, is that correct?”
“Yep. I wanna get into biotech.”
“Truly? Do you have expertise in this arena?”
Coop shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. But how hard can it be?”
Apoti smiled again. “Of course. Well, I wish you luck. Now, if I might have Potato?”
“Oh, sure.” Coop handed the little alien over with a fond pat on its head.
Potato didn’t react at all. Coop sighed on the inside. He’d miss Potato. They’d been through a lot. But he also knew Potato didn't remember any of it. The way Jess had explained it, giving birth to the Tots — the alien mitosis whatsis — had reset the little guy to its original biological settings. She'd felt confident about that. She'd been less sure whether it had been a natural part of its biology, or something the virus had triggered.
Apoti took Potato in one hand and began to lift her shirt with the other.
«Oh, my.»
Coop looked at the ceiling.
Apoti stared at him and opened a panel, revealing a cavity in her torso. She put Potato inside and closed it back. Then she produced a tablet.
“This contains the deed and a letter authorizing its transfer to your corporation. I trust you will find everything is in order.”
Coop accepted the tablet. Everything checked out. “So, it's all mine?”
“You are welcome to it Mr. Theca. I suspect it will be a long time before any Box return to this moon, perhaps even the entire solar system. It has not been a good experience for us. And those that previously insisted upon it are now… out of favor.”
“Well, thank you, Apoti.”
“It was my pleasure. Do we have any business left to attend to?”
Coop almost said ‘no’. Almost. “We could get dinner to celebrate. I could show you around Titan.”
Apoti’s face didn’t move one single bit. Instead she turned on a fancy heel and returned to her dream vehicle.
Coop watched her walk away, as Dyrk sighed in his head.
«You can’t blame a guy for trying.»
Chapter 33
••• Three Weeks Later •••
Coop set down his tablet and looked around the new and improved common room. Tycho had shown a real flair for decorating, though he still felt a touch of annoyance at having been outvoted about including a classic pinball machine over by the wet bar.
But it wasn't just the common room. The entire habitat had evolved for the better. Much better. It still held copious amounts of laboratory equipment. In fact, more had arrived, but it also had real furniture now, much of it in brightly colored fabrics, black leather, and chrome.
«Ben, is there a term for this style of decorating?»
The actor considered. “Yeah, it’s called ‘tech-startup’. I could live without the beanbag chairs, but the rest of the stuff is nice enough.”
Jess and Tycho walked into the room. Coop could tell them apart as Jess owned the only lab coat in the place. A fact that helped him more often than he liked to admit.
“Hello ladies, I just had a message from Al.”
The identical women stopped and looked at him expectantly. “What did he have to say?” Jess asked.
“He said that when Doos got to Earth it got itself in a bit of a pickle. Apparently, its extensions accosted some innocent civilians. Now there’s a lawsuit and the Box are trying to settle things quietly.”
“Was anyone hurt?” asked Tycho.
“No. It didn’t sound like it. In fact, it sounds like things will work out just fine for Lilly and her siblings.”
Jessica nodded. “Well, that’s good news. Hopefully Doos will leave everyone alone now.”
“Amen to that. Are you ladies ready for dinner?”
Jess and Tycho readily agreed. The group retired to their new dining room in what used to be Potato’s play pen of sensory stimuli. Tycho had removed most of the toys, especially the ones that made noise or emitted odors. She also painted the walls a soothing ecru and installed a modest lighting fixture and an elegant banquet table and plenty of chairs so they could have guests should they ever opt to host dinner parties. For now it was just the three of them, and they clustered together at one end of the table. The Tots played on the psychedelic floor — colors pulsing softly as they rollicked on one spot or another — as the humans tucked in to their meal.
Coop and Dyrk had worked out a time table so that the viral echo could continue his culinary practice every night, and he hadn't had a repeat of the ghost pepper disaster. In fact, the last several dinners had been so good that conversation had been suspended until dessert so they could all savor the food on their plates. Dyrk had been so chuffed, he'd gone all out tonight and the dessert course had been a flaming Baked Alaska that astounded Tots and humans alike.
Coop pushed his plate back and licked the last bits of ice cream from his lips. “So, Jess, I don’t want to pressure you, but how is the research coming along?”
Dr. Acorns set her fork down, her eyes coming back into focus as if realizing she'd finished the dessert on her plate and there wasn't any more. Dyrk had found her weak spot: Sweets.
“Really well. It isn’t ready for primetime yet, but everything is moving along even better than expected.”
“That’s great news.”
“It is miraculo
us news, Mr. Cooper. If things continue like this, we may be able to offer cures for almost all ills. In fact, the effects would be so sweeping that it would require some serious debate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for better or worse, diseases help manage population. We’ve already overpopulated one planet and we’re spreading into the galaxy like locusts. What happens when people stop dying prematurely?”
Coop tried to wrap his head around the consequences. It hurt. “I see your point. But, does that mean you should stop?”
Jess shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. We don’t retard science. But it will require a robust debate.”
“And you think Earth’s leaders will be up to that?” asked Tycho.
Coop and Jess both stayed silent. Then the doctor opted to change the subject.
“So, Mr. Cooper, have you given any thought to what you’d like to do now?”
“I have a few ideas. Do you think the people here on Titan might welcome community theater?”
“I doubt it,” said Jess. “I’ve never seen any indication of art or creativity here.”
“Is community theater what I think it is?” asked Tycho.
“Amateur stage productions. Well beneath me, but… you know, it would give me something to do.”
“If it keeps you out of my hair, I’m all for it.”
“Could I do it too?”
Coop gave Tycho an appraising look.
«She’d be great at learning lines. And I can make her look like anyone.»
Coop checked his inventory of smiles and found that the one he wanted matched the genuine expression on his face, a beaming grin of encouragement. “Honey, I think you’d be a natural actress.”
“Oh no, I don't want to be up on stage. It would be weird to act like I was someone else when I'm still trying to remember who I was before the coma.”
«She makes a fine point.»
“Then what?”
“Well, what I really want to do is direct.”
The End
Acknowledgments
Anger Management was produced under a wee bit of duress. Lawrence spent weeks in the hospital for cancer treatment during its production and endured the suffering of recovery for months to follow. It wasn't easy and it often made work next to impossible, but thanks to the efforts of his medical team and care givers, especially Valerie, he made it through and this book is now in your hands. In particular, he would like to acknowledge the work, prayers, and kind wishes of his family, friends, and fans who helped maintain his spirits through an incredibly trying time.
We would also like to thank our dedicated pair of beta-readers. Dr. James Caplan has been with us since Fight or Flight and always delivers. Our books owe him a debt of gratitude. Next, we'd like to thank Karin O'Callaghan. Her professionalism and expertise have made books 2 and 3 of this series better than they would have been, and her time and commitment are greatly appreciated. We'd also like to congratulate her on her first book, 'Til Death Do Us Part, written under the pen-name, Austen Butler. It is an incredible Psychological Thriller and available now on Amazon.
And as always, we want to thank our readers. Without you, writing this book would lose all meaning. You give us purpose and fuel our passion. Thank you.
About Brian Thorne
Marine, spy, and advocate, Brian Thorne has worn many hats. But the ones he enjoys most are father and friend. When not writing, Brian volunteers with a veteran-based disaster relief organization; separately he serves with Military Veterans Advocacy (MVA) to make sure veterans get the care they earned and deserve.
Newsletter Link:
To follow Brian on his writing adventure, and receive a free short story, you can join his newsletter by clicking this link. Your email address will not be sold, rented, or in any other way disseminated.
About Lawrence M. Schoen
Lawrence M. Schoen holds a Ph.D. in cognitive psychology and psycholinguistics. He spent ten years as a college professor, doing research in the areas of human memory and language. This was followed by seventeen years as the director of research for a medical center in Philadelphia that provided mental health and addiction services.
He’s also one of the world's foremost authorities on the Klingon language, and since 1992 has championed the exploration and use of this constructed tongue throughout the world. And too, he performs occasionally as a hypnotherapist specializing in authors' issues.
In 2007, he was a finalist for the Astounding Award for Best New Writer. He received a Hugo Award nomination for Best Short Story in 2010 and Nebula Award nominations for Best Novella in 2013, 2014, 2015, and 2018, and for Best Novel in 2016. Some of his most popular writing deals with the ongoing humorous adventures of a space-faring stage hypnotist named the Amazing Conroy and his animal companion Reggie, an alien buffalito that can eat anything and farts oxygen. His Barsk series represents his more serious work and uses anthropomorphic SF to explore ideas of prophecy, intolerance, political betrayal, speaking to the dead, predestination, and free will. It's also earned him the Cóyotl Award for Best Novel of 2015, and again in 2018.
Lawrence lives near Philadelphia with his wife, Valerie, who is neither a psychologist nor a Klingon speaker.
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If you would like updates on Lawrence’s new releases, appearances, or special offers, please consider joining his mailing list. Your email address will not be sold, rented, or in any other way disseminated. If you are interested, simply click the link below to sign up:
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Also by Lawrence M. Schoen
Barsk
Barsk: The Elephants' Graveyard
(2015 Winner Cóyotl Award, 2015 Nebula Award Finalist)
The Moons of Barsk
(2018 Winner Cóyotl Award )
Excerpts of Jorl ben Tral
The Amazing Conroy
Buffalito Bundle
(includes “Yesterday’s Taste,” 2011 WSFA Small Press Award Finalist)
Barry's Tale
(2012 Nebula Award Finalist)
Calendrical Regression
(2014 Nebula Award Finalist)
Barry's Deal
(2017 Nebula Award Finalist)
Buffalito Destiny
Trial of the Century
(2013 Nebula Award Finalist)
Buffalito Contingency
COLLECTIONS
Creature Academy:
Cautionary Poems of Public Education
Sweet Potato Pie and other stories
Coming Soon!
The Rule of Three and other stories
Non-Fiction
Coming Soon!
Hypnosis for Writers
COLLABORATIONS
Seeds of War (with Jonathan Brazee)
Invasion * Scorched Earth * Bitter Harvest
Adrenaline Rush (with Brian Thorne)
Fight or Flight * Alien Thrill Seeker *
Anger Management
Coming Soon!
The Demon Codex (with Brian Thorne)
Author Website:
http://www.lawrencemschoen.com
Anger Management Page 17