Assisted Living

by E. M. Foner

  Took one coffee to go and the last plain donut – Capt. Pyun.

  “Flower?” Bill asked. “Doesn’t the captain usually come down and inspect the food court right after he makes his final announcement?”

  “He visited the food court thirty-two minutes ago,” the AI confirmed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Julie’s not here and the captain left a note about owing her for a coffee. I’m sure she would have seen it.”

  “Maybe she’s in the restroom?”

  “For a half-hour?”

  “That would be excessive for her. Oh, this isn’t good.”

  “What isn’t good?” Bill demanded.

  “I can’t locate her.”

  “Try her implant.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. I had the Farling doctor give you both high-end models. It’s extremely unlikely that it’s failed.”

  “But everybody said that she’s safe now, that the contract on her life was cancelled,” Bill shouted at the ship’s AI, even though he knew his implant could pick up whispers and subvocalizations. Unwilling to take the time to go around, he climbed over the counter to make sure Julie wasn’t lying dead on the floor. “If she’s not here, where is she? Did you leave her behind on that Dollnick world?”

  “I watch the arrivals and departures and I would have seen her,” Flower said. “Don’t panic, she must be here somewhere.”

  “You’re the one who said it’s not good.”

  “The walk-in freezer.”

  “What?”

  “The restaurants in this area of the food court share a walk-in freezer. It’s behind the soft serve.”

  “She’s in there?” Bill asked as he ran out from behind the counter heading for the soft serve. “Why can’t you contact her?”

  “When the door is closed it’s a Faraday cage. Lume needed somewhere private he could interview his agents without me listening in.”

  “Where is it?” he shouted again, skidding to a halt behind the soft serve. “Shouldn’t there be a big metal door?”

  “Somebody added that corkboard so local businesses could post help-wanted ads—the turnover in food service is unbelievable.”

  “Where’s the handle?” Bill cried in frustration.

  “It’s at Dollnick height.”

  “Can’t you just open it?”

  “I didn’t want to compromise the safety features. Freezers can be quite dangerous. Don’t close the door behind you and I’ll be able to access her implant.”

  Bill finally located the push-button handle next to a solicitation for second-shift fry cooks that paid better than either of his current jobs, and wrapping his fingers around the handle, depressed the button with his thumb and pulled the door open. The freezer was huge, but he only had eyes for the girl on the floor. Julie was lying flat on her back, limbs askew, a mop lying across her stomach.

  “Send the doctor,” Bill cried. “She’s lying on her back and she’s not moving.” He raced forward to place his fingers on her throat and check for a pulse like he had seen in dramas, but her skin felt cold to the touch. “She’s cold, and I can’t feel a pulse.”

  “Her heartbeat is a bit low, but her implant doesn’t report any major systems failures,” the Dollnick AI told him. “Try to wake her up and get her out of the freezer.”

  “I’m not a doctor, but I know you aren’t supposed to move people who might have a spinal injury.”

  “Her implant would show a problem with the nervous system if that were the case. It’s all tied together in your species.”

  Bill placed both hands on her face and started patting her cheeks, not having the heart to try a real slap. “Julie! Wake up!”

  “Try kissing her,” Flower advised.

  “I’m not kissing Julie while she’s passed out on the floor,” he shouted. “Sometimes your advice really sucks.”

  “I think it would be sort of romantic,” Julie muttered, her eyes fluttering open. “Better than having you pat my cheeks like you’re making a hamburger. What happened?”

  “You weren’t at the counter when I came, and there was a note from the captain he must have left a half-hour ago. Flower suggested looking for you in the freezer.”

  “I remember now,” Julie said, levering herself up on an elbow despite Bill begging her to just wait for the doctor. “I dropped the container of soup I was putting away to freeze and it all spilled out. It must have frozen while I went back to the diner to get the mop. I slipped and my leg shot up over my head just like the funny little guy I saw on movie night at the independent living cooperative. What was his name?”

  “Charlie Chaplin,” Flower said. “Move her out of there and close the door before all of the ice cream melts. I’ll send a bot to clean up.”

  “I still think we should wait for the doctor,” Bill said, but Julie had a grip on his shoulder and pulled herself to an upright sitting position.

  “I’m freezing. Help me up and get me out of here.”

  Bill put his hands under her arms and straightened up with her, bringing them both to their feet. Julie wrapped her arms around his neck and sagged against him. He began half-carrying, half-walking her to the door. Some sort of orchestral piece began to play over his implant.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “Can you hear that, Julie?”

  “I asked Flower for music to get you over your fear of slow dancing,” Julie told him. “You really should learn to subvoc.”

  “I’m waiting for you to offer to teach me. Are you really okay?”

  “Just cold, and you’re warm. I never knew you were so warm. Dance me back to The Spoon and I’ll be fine.”

  Bill wanted to argue, but not enough to risk her letting go of him, so he focused on shuffling back the way they came, trying to move in rhythm with the music, but not having much success. By the time they reached the open area of tables in front of the diner, Julie was no longer using him to stay upright, and he wasn’t sure which of them was leading.

  “My lips really are numb,” she mumbled, turning her face towards his.

  “Kiss her, you fool,” Flower practically shouted over Bill’s implant.

  Bill tilted his head a little and moved his face closer, closing his eyes and puckering up self-consciously. Just before their lips touched, a loud voice interrupted.

  “All right, then. Enough of that. Break it up and let me get a look.”

  The young people opened their eyes and saw the Farling doctor towering over them, rubbing away on his speaking legs.

  “If it isn’t the spy who came in from the cold, except neither of you have been recruited by an intelligence service yet, have you? Any dizziness, confusion, numbness in your arms or legs?”

  “I’m just cold,” Julie protested. “I must have been in the freezer for half an hour.”

  “Think of it as thirty extra minutes of life you’ll get before you spoil,” the doctor said, and brandished an alien-looking device in front of Julie’s face. “Don’t move around while I’m measuring you,” he instructed. After a few seconds, he shoved the portable scanner back in his medical bag and pulled out a small flashlight, which he shined in her eyes. “Have you noticed anything funny, Flower?”

  “No. As far as the implant is concerned, she’s functioning normally.”

  “What’s the square root of seventeen?” M793qK demanded. “Don’t tell her, Bill.”

  “A little more than four?” Julie ventured.

  “Her brain is in better shape than ninety percent of the Humans I see,” the doctor concluded. “Carry on with what you were doing, but keep your clothes on or you’ll ruin my appetite. And first, somebody pour me a Deck Three vodka, stat.”

  Twenty

  “Sorry I can only stay for a few minutes,” Bill told Razood. “I’m helping Harry with the wedding cake and then I have to change. How come you aren’t dressed for work?”

  “I am dressed for work.” The Frunge blacksmith was wearing a metallic suit the apprentice had never seen, and stood ramrod strai
ght behind the table displaying his finest wares. “Business isn’t all about swinging a hammer, you know. Quick, put on that cloak.”

  “This?” Bill asked, retrieving a fashionable cloak from the peg where his leather apron normally hung. “Do you always dress up when we’re stopped at Union Station?”

  “Just put it on. And hurry, he’s coming out of the candle-making shop.”

  Bill felt a little foolish throwing the cloak over his shoulders, and he fumbled with the clasp. When he looked up, an oddly-shaped robot that could best be described as a barrel with treads floated up to the table and extended a pincer to heft one of Razood’s swords.

  “Fine work, but I recognize it from the last time you stopped here,” the robot announced. “It doesn’t look like your prime inventory is moving, but you still have the excess funds to hire help?”

  “My apprentice,” the Frunge answered respectfully. “He’s been working for me a couple of months as a part-time trial, but it looks like I’m going to lose him to Flower’s new food business. I’m sure you know that Humans work cheap.”

  “Not if you take into account how much they cost you in raw materials, patent filings and marketing promotions.”

  “Bill mainly pumps the bellows, Stryx Jeeves.”

  “Then you’re lucky. How many sets of books do you have for me to inspect this time?”

  “I started paying Flower to keep all of my records,” Razood replied. “She gets the data straight from my mini-register.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re doing a cash business on the side?”

  “Who uses cash these days?”

  “Who indeed,” Jeeves muttered, setting down the sword and pointing with his pincer. “What’s that supposed to be?”

  “The four-headed axe? It’s a custom order from some Human game developers—”

  “Stop right there, I know the type, and I understand that Flower picked up a large contingent of them on Bits. Does this mean that you won’t require a subsidy going forward?”

  “The weapons they buy are just toys, it doesn’t pay like real craftsmanship,” Razood said apologetically. “I only accept their commissions because I know how enthusiastic Flower is about keeping these new Humans on board.”

  “Yes, to make her population milestones,” Jeeves said. “You’re set for another circuit, but if you haven’t started making a profit by then, I’m going to ask Frunge Intelligence to find somebody with more business sense to run the smithy.”

  Razood remained at attention while the young Stryx floated off towards the lift tubes, and his apprentice kept the silence until the robot was out of sight.

  “That was the Stryx who sponsors Colonial Jeevesburg?” Bill asked incredulously. “Flower’s maintenance bots are twice his size and have four times as many arms.”

  “With the Stryx, it’s what you don’t see that matters,” Razood explained. “The robot bodies are just something the young ones put on to go out and mix with the biological species, but they’ve got the whole multiverse figured out.”

  “And he cares how you dress for work?”

  “I only wear this when we visit Union Station, and your cloak is from his fashion brand.”

  “I’m sorry about you losing the subsidy after this circuit.”

  “Jeeves says the same thing every time we stop at Union Station,” Razood told Bill. “He’s never pulled a subsidy from any of the shops in Colonial Jeevesburg yet. Besides, it’s all pocket change compared to what they’re going to have to pay Flower for making her first population milestone.”

  “A half-million people living on board is a lot.”

  “She’s still only at ten percent capacity.”

  A woman dressed in a hoopskirt who Bill recognized as the proprietress of the millinery shop called to them as she passed by. “Come on, or you’ll be late for the post-audit party. Flower sent complimentary pies with fresh fruit fillings.”

  “How hard is it for them to remember that I don’t do crust,” Razood complained to Bill. “Besides, I see some Hortens from Union Station heading this way. One of them bought a sword from me yesterday and promised he’d return with his friends. You better get going and I’ll see you later.”

  Three decks away, Jeeves entered the alien cafeteria where he had arranged to conduct the Stryx audit of Flower’s milestone achievements. The captain and Lynx were waiting along with Lume, Brenda from the independent living cooperative, and the Farling doctor.

  “I see you brought in the heavy hitters,” Jeeves communicated electronically to the Dollnick ship’s AI. “Does that mean you expect problems?”

  “Allow me to introduce my new legal representative,” Flower responded out loud. “Brenda, this is Jeeves.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Brenda said nervously, and reflexively extended a hand. Jeeves grasped it gently with his pincer and gave it a shake before pivoting to the pair of aliens.

  “Gone native, M793qK?” the young Stryx inquired.

  “Business is good, and I’ve learned to value the relative privacy after my years on Union Station,” the Farling replied. “Flower invited me to attend this audit as an observer because I’m thinking about putting in for a Stryx research grant on Human longevity. I want to find out how hard it is to collect milestone bonuses.”

  “And you?” Jeeves asked Lume.

  “Moral support, but it’s almost time for dinner, so I would have been here in a few minutes anyway.”

  “Then I’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible so it won’t interfere with your dining pleasure. My elders informed me that you put in a claim for your first population milestone, Flower. I’ve counted the qualified Humans on board, and the number I come up with is approximately seventeen thousand less than your stated total.”

  “If I may,” Brenda said. “I’ve read a translation of the contract in question, and based on the difference you just pointed out, it appears to me that you’re treating the boarding school population as transients.”

  “Because they are transients. Temporary residents shall be defined as persons who have joined the ship’s complement for a short time only,” Jeeves quoted the contract. “That would make them transients.”

  “But how can you say that boarding school students have joined for a short time only? Some of them have been continuously on board for three years, and the younger students may end up remaining here for a decade, longer if Flower starts a branch campus of the Open University.”

  “But they have a home to return to,” Jeeves argued. “We’re talking about legal minors by Human definition. Their parents haven’t given up custody to Flower.”

  “Their parents should have read the fine print of my boarding school contracts,” the Dollnick AI interjected.

  “Approximately five thousand of the students are over sixteen, which is the age of majority on CoSHC worlds,” Brenda countered. “And if you’re taking Earth precedence into account, there’s a legal difference between permanent residency and domicile, where permanent residency implies a non-temporary home, and domicile is a permanent home, such as where military or diplomatic personnel may return after retirement.”

  “Isn’t this normally where you project a hologram of dense text and tell us to read the fine print?” Lynx teased Jeeves.

  “I could do that, but I don’t understand why you’re arguing. Flower claimed five hundred and twenty thousand Human residents, and my count makes it five hundred and three thousand, give or take the odd vagrant. The workers from Trume Six who announced they were getting off at Union Station have already departed, and considering that you’re leaving in less than twelve hours, I think that it’s a safe bet she’s made the milestone in any case.”

  “Then that’s done and we don’t have to discuss it any further,” Woojin declared. “I’m performing a wedding later and I invited Joe to come and take a look around before we leave. Is he on board yet, Flower?”

  “The EarthCent ambassador’s husband arrived five minutes ago and I’ve rou
ted him to this location,” the Dollnick AI responded. “Make sure to send him home with a box of fresh fruit.”

  “We have plenty of fresh fruit on Union Station,” Jeeves pointed out.

  “Free fresh fruit?”

  “If that’s how you do business, you’re going to go through your fifty million cred bonus long before you make the next milestone.”

  “Fifty million creds!” Lynx exclaimed. “That’s like a hundred creds a head for every human on board.”

  “Which is why I was prepared to meet Prince Kuerda’s original offer,” Flower said smugly. “Thanks to your negotiating assistance, I expect to get away with paying him two hundred thousand fruit cakes when all is said and done. Now all I need is a cheap source for a few thousand barrels of good brandy, if anybody has any ideas.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re talking about,” Jeeves said, spinning around. “Sorry about yesterday’s poker game, Woojin, but you owed me from last time.”

  “Why wasn’t I invited to the poker game?” Flower demanded. “I could have sent a bot to play for me again.”

  “Lynx thought you’d be too busy with the audits,” Woojin lied. “Hello, Joe,” he greeted his friend.

  “Wooj,” the older man acknowledged, and then reclaimed a plastic crate from the bot Flower had sent to guide him. “Thanks for the help,” he said to the bot, and then offered the crate to the Farling. “As promised.”

  “Thank you, Joe,” M793qK said. “Just what the doctor ordered. The canned beer that they sell on this ship doesn’t hold a candle to your homebrew. How much do I owe you?”

  “It’s on the house, Doc. I’ve got a fine son-in-law thanks to your medical intervention, and I hear that Clive’s sister and nephew are doing well also.” Joe looked around the cafeteria and laughed. “When Flower’s bot said it was bringing me to the nerve center of the ship, I assumed it meant the bridge. You look familiar,” he added, offering a hand to Lume.