"Not until you convince Marge to let you go," Markandeya replied. "I'm sure a twenty-five year old guy is more exciting than a fifty-something woman, but you've been made for her, and even though I built you, she has decisional power over you."
Tristan averted his eyes. "I don't want to leave until Deon comes back," he said, frowning. "If she doesn't let me go, I want to be able to say a proper good-bye to him."
"Then we shall wait for him to come home," Markandeya said with a smile. "Shall we sit down? I will test your conversational skills, okay?"
Tristan nodded with a half-smile and sat on the couch with him. Now the day was turning interesting. Markandeya had never before had the chance to talk with one of his creatures five years after he'd built them.
***
Deon opened the door and gasped at the sight of the visitor quietly chatting with Tristan. The man didn't wear a uniform, though, so he entered the apartment with his heart still beating faster but hopeful it could be a false alarm.
"Father, this is Deon," Tristan said.
Father? Confused, Deon looked at the man who smiled and rose.
"Markandeya Sumirasko, head of cybernetics at the Serenaide Labs," he said, offering his hand.
Deon opened his mouth as his eyes widened in fear. So the man had come for Tristan! "Father" as in "builder" for the BOB!
"Relax, young man, we're trying to find a way out to this dilemma," the man said, still offering his hand.
Deon remembered his manners and shook the extended hand. "Deon Siracusa," he muttered, glancing at Tristan. The man's grip was strong, almost too strong. "Ouch!"
"Sorry, been dealing with too many artificial beings lately," Sumirasko apologized.
Deon shook his aching hand and glared at the man. Then he noticed that physical perfection that was also Tristan's, albeit more mature.
"Are you human?" he asked.
"The mind is human," the other answered. "Downloaded in an artificial body because my bag of bones couldn't make it off Marc'harid."
Deon's openly gaped. A survivor of Marc'harid! The former Imperial planet had been destroyed by an impact with the Mega Arena eight years earlier and still no life could take hold on the charred surface.
"So are you a Sire?"
"No, but I worked at the Sire labs. I was born on Ypsilanti seventy years ago, but I've worked on Marc'harid for forty-three years. My lover is from Serenaide, so when the catastrophe was impending, we uploaded our minds in the Vaurabi Labs mainframe and I downloaded mine here as soon as the new body was ready."
An artificial body with a human mind! Wonders never ceased! Deon was really impressed.
"You've come to take back, Tristan, haven't you?" he asked, frowning again.
"Unfortunately yes. But I've been talking to Tristan and now that I see you, I'm conflicted. That's the downside of a human mind, no logic to help us in our decisions... so I will have to follow my gut instinct."
The man smiled at both. Tristan waited quietly, but Deon couldn't.
"What is our fate, then?"
Sumirasko went to the house laptop and sat.
"Let me see if I can get you off planet until I offer Marge an alternative to Tristan," he said, going on the meganet.
Deon glanced puzzled at Tristan who stared intently at his maker. Was that hope on the BOB's face? Deon turned eagerly back to Sumirasko who was speaking with someone with no visuals. Must be an off-planet or starship communication...
"Thank you, David, they'll be there," Sumirasko concluded.
He turned to look at them and grinned.
"Pack your bags, the Nova Falstelo is in the quadrant. Be at the spaceport in an hour. I'll be in touch."
He rose and quickly shook their hands. He left without turning back, leaving Deon gaping.
"Where do we start from?" Tristan's voice shook him. Deon turned and was dazzled by Tristan's smile. "I don't have anything to pack, so what do you need?"
"Ah, uh... well, is it permanent or not?" Deon frowned in worry.
"I daresay it's not," Tristan replied. "My father said he'd be in touch. So pack for a short trip."
Deon took deep, calming breaths. "You mean like a honeymoon in space?" he asked.
"Why not?" Tristan grinned. "On a private cruise ship no less. My father knows people..."
Deon stared awed at him. "What have I done to deserve you?"
Tristan took him in his arms. "You fell in love with me and gave me feelings," he whispered before kissing him.
***
Markandeya went to Villa Nine-Brambila putting on his most sorry face. He had noticed how the rich widow had a soft spot for him and he hoped to convince her to let go of Tristan. He was more and more proud of that creature who had turned out to have a mind of his own and Deon's love for the android was so obvious it reminded him of his own love for Tyro, the Serenaide scientist now a disembodied mind in the Labs mainframe. He couldn't bear to part the two young lovers, not to please a grumpy old spinster.
"Mrs. Nine-Brambila, I'm afraid the AI is damaged beyond repair," he said, sitting in the plush living room with the woman. "You gave me the specifics of the custom-made BOB and I wondered if I could turn it into a series model. In return, I shall build you the next generation BOB and fine-tune it to your needs. He can look like Tristan or be completely different, that is up to you."
She narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips.
"And how much would that cost me?" she asked bluntly.
"It's on us, ma'am," he assured her. "The software failure was unexpected, and it taught us something about AIs, therefore the replacement won't cost you anything, especially if you give us permission to use Tristan as series BOB – it has quite a good android body, and I'd be sorry to see it go because the software doesn't work anymore. Unless you want to keep him as a statue for your mansion."
She pondered, pursing her lip. "No, I'm not interested in a statue, no matter how beautiful. So if I give you new specifications you'll make me a new BOB? With some kind of controlling and tracing device?"
"Absolutely. Whatever you want us to add that was missing from the old model, we'll be happy to implement it." Markandeya tried to keep his excitement at bay.
She stared at him and batted her eyelashes.
"Could he look a little like you?" she asked. Was she flirting with him?
"I'm afraid I have copyright on this body," he replied, amused. "That's what I looked like when I was younger. But you could request a BOB looking like someone who is no more, like a mighty Sire or whoever is no longer of this dimension..."
She raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued. He had suggested the Sire, since they'd been gorgeous and famous throughout the galaxy, although he strongly hoped she wouldn't request an android looking like his lost friends Kol-ian Vaurabi or Ker-ris Shermac.
"I shall send you a picture of the person I'd like to see reconstructed," she said at last. "Thank you, Doctor Sumirasko."
***
Deon had never been to the spaceport. He never had any reason to leave the planet, so he wasn't even sure of how to get there. But Tristan had a map of the city in his head, and he took both of them safely there. Deon was more and more amazed by his boyfriend who didn't need to eat or sleep and yet was so useful even outside of the bedroom.
It was actually easier to leave him in charge in unfamiliar places. Tristan seemed to know where to look for the Nova Falstelo which turned out to be a disk-shaped cruise ship originally registered in the Shermac Fleet. The fleet had been disbanded by the only Shermac survivor after the destruction of Marc'harid, hence the captain had become proprietor of the ship and most of the crew had stayed on.
David Sommaruga Dubois, a tall forty-year-old man, welcomed them onboard.
"I've known Markandeya since I was born," he told them. "And the original Falstelo was an outlawed starship, so now I feel we're on that fringe again, between legal and illegal, free to roam the galaxy and take on whichever passengers we choose to. Not something that we
could do while employed by the House of Shermac." His smile was sad, though.
"Do you miss the Sire?" Deon asked. For him, they were as far away as any other planet or Humanoid population. It was high time he broadened his horizons and started to see the Star Nations. Tristan looked eager to move around too, and they both felt like brand new explorers, excited for the coming adventure.
"I was born on Marc'harid, even though I'm not a Sire," the captain replied. "And yes, I miss the Sire who were so close to my family, who took my parents away from Earth and welcomed them on their planet. But let's not talk about the past, shall we? Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere, really. I've never left Serenaide," Deon said, blushing in shame. "Just do what you must do, we'll tag along!"
"We can help the crew if you instruct us," Tristan added. "I believe my father hasn't told you that I'm not human, though. My registration number is TR1ST4N and I learn fast."
"Ah, yes, he mentioned you were one of his creatures... very well, guests or crew, welcome onboard the Nova Falstelo!"
Time flew for the two runaways as they explored the galaxy. After six months, Captain Sommaruga called them into the comm room. Sumirasko wanted to talk to them.
"You can come back anytime," he said cheerfully. "Marge has been paid off with a brand new BOB so she has given up her claim on Tristan. By the way, he's the first of a new series, so he's not one-of-a-kind anymore – in theory. He has lookalikes, but he's still unique."
Deon and Tristan exchanged happily surprised glances.
"So it's safe if I come back and show him around as my boyfriend?" Deon asked.
"Totally safe. People might recognize him for what he is, but you still have the first, with five and a half years of experience that the others don't have. When you have enough of wandering in space, you can come home."
Beaming, Deon turned to Tristan. "What do you say?"
"I think you're homesick," Tristan replied with a smile. "You miss your job and your little home. Let's go back and live happily ever after..."
Immortal Body
Stan-luc got off the motosonic and snorted. He looked around at the enormous yard that resembled a meadow and the facade of the moderately-sized house. His grandmother and her partner had found a great place, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, with a quaint atmosphere and in average condition. But being summoned to the Villa, as they called the place, wasn't always good news.
The sun shone, so besides his helmet, Stan-luc took off his jacket and folded it in the motosonic's bag. His long black hair fell to his shoulders and he quickly tied it back in a ponytail, sighing. Who knew what his grandmother wanted now.
He knocked on the big front door. Since nobody answered, he put his palm on the palm-reader, and the door slid open.
"Bess-lin?" he called, stepping in. His grandmother had immediately made it clear that there was no "grandma" for her. Either he called her by her first name, or she'd never see him again. Since he was already fifteen when he had first met her, he had complied, after a brief glance at his father who had transmitted a very sharp Humor her!
The interior of the house was done in colors that reminded him of a rainbow. The house had once been featured in a magazine showcasing unusual homes, and that was when Bess-lin had seen it and decided she wanted it.
It didn't matter that her home planet had been destroyed and she didn't own a thing to her name anymore. Bess-lin was a Sire aristocrat, and she wanted to be treated like the princess she'd been on the former Imperial planet. She refused to work and depended on her life partner, Maela, the Sylvanian cyborg who worked for a security company in town way past retiring age.
Stan-luc assumed that his grandmother was home alone, since at this time of the day Maela was probably working. He should be working too, at the Ypsilantian Labs with his prospective father-in-law, but even Wim Drake knew that if Bess-lin Meraini called, one was better off obeying immediately.
"Bess-lin, I'm here!" he called again, glancing into the living room and the kitchen. He was about to climb the central staircase to the upper floor, when he saw her slowly descending, one hand on the banister, with a long dress the color of her water-green eyes, her red curls flowing down her back.
Stan-luc had always thought that Bess-lin was a jarring sight for whoever knew her. Her brain had been transplanted inside an artificial body when her physical bag of bones started to decay around fifty years old, so she still looked young and beautiful. The artificial body had been modeled on her looks, therefore her appearance was of a twenty-something redhead straight out of old galactic chronicles.
Bess-lin was seventy-three, but she had an immortal body that stuck her back in time – to when the Emperor was still alive and her parents wanted her to marry Imperial Prince Kol-ian Vaurabi, Stan-luc's unwilling grandfather, who had perished with the Sire planet.
In the ten years Bess-lin had been living on Ypsilanti, she'd made quite a mess, being a woman and wanting to be in charge. But since she was an almighty telepathic Sire, the women of Ypsilanti had let her do more or less what she wanted. Her mind was still powerful and she could influence people by simply invading their minds.
When she had bought the Villa and retired from public life a few months earlier, the local government had probably breathed with relief, as much as Stan-luc had done.
"Ah, Bess-lin," he said, a little puzzled by her elegance at the wrong time of the day. She looked ready for a court ball, and it wasn't even lunch time.
She nodded regally and grabbed his arm, guiding him to the living room.
"Your father betrothed us," she said, batting her long lashes over her green eyes. "I hope you're still willing to marry me." She smiled flirtatiously.
What the hell? Stan-luc thought, puzzled. My father would never betroth me to anyone, the Sire aristocracy is dead!
He sat next to her, wondering how he could handle the conversation.
"I'm afraid not, Bess-lin," he replied cautiously.
"Just because you renounced your birthright, you think you're unworthy of me?" she asked, frowning. "It makes you ineligible for the Five, but still available. The Vaurabi are a strong breed and I still think you have the right DNA for a new dynasty."
He opened his mouth, then a thought occurred to him. Bess-lin wasn't talking to him, Stan-luc Angelle Meraini, but to someone else.
She's losing her marbles, he thought. She thinks I'm Grandfather Kol-ian. What am I supposed to do?
"I'm sorry, I won't get married at this time," he said, determined.
"Why, because you're still licking your wounds?" she asked suavely. "Except the mess on your back, which you did yourself and is the only thing that scars your genetically reinforced body..."
"Bess-lin," he replied. "I have no wounds nor scars and I will not marry you."
"Oh, Kol-ian, why are you so mean?" She frowned again. "Maybe I should ask a Reptilian to help me."
"You can try, but S'lyss is dead," he snapped, rising from the couch. He almost ran out of the house before she could add anything.
She was reliving things that had happened over forty-five years earlier. Stan-luc knew some things, but not all of the events that had led to the birth of his father, Kay-low Meraini. He couldn't handle his grandmother alone.
Stan-luc put on his helmet and jacket, and quickly drove back to town. He went directly to the Ypsilantian Labs and called for an urgent meeting with both his boss and the head of cybernetics who were husband and wife.
"Bess-lin is going crazy," he announced. "Today she called me Kol-ian and told me we should mate soon. She thinks she still has to give birth, she has completely forgotten my father and that I'm her grandson."
The couple exchanged a puzzled glance.
At fifty-four Wim Drake still wore his hair long, which had allowed Stan-luc to follow his fashion, although he didn't have the tattoos his mentor and boss had. He was the best hacker alive after the destruction of Marc'harid, and Stan-luc had eagerly learned everything he c
ould from him, since his grandfather was no more.
Dadina was the younger and completely human copy of her mother Maela, since she was practically her clone. She had become head of cybernetics on Ypsilanti after the loss of the Sire Vaurabi Labs. They had three offspring, Arielle, twenty-three, Xavier, twenty-one and Jasmine, nineteen.
"We never had any problems with mind uploads," Wim said after a brief hesitation. "I mean, Izzy-lee and Alex are still perfectly fine..."
"But Bess-lin is different," Dadina said, thoughtful. "It wasn't a mind upload, but a brain transplant. Even Markandeya downloaded his mind into an artificial body, but there was nothing biological left. And maybe her brain has been hit by a neurodegenerative disorder. How can we check her health without her suspecting it?"
"Hasn't your mother told you anything?" Stan-luc asked. "I mean, if she's losing memory, maybe she doesn't recognize Maela..."
"My mother has been in palace security since Bess-lin was in her twenties, so she might still look familiar to your grandmother. But I will ask my mother if lately Bess-lin has been treating her more like a stranger than her life partner."
Stan-luc nodded, still worried. "It's creepy seeing her coming at me and calling me Kol-ian," he said, shivering at the memory.
"You don't even look like Kol-ian," Dadina said with a shrug. "Yes, you have black hair and eyes like him, but really, nobody would confuse you with your late grandfather..."
"Unless one was losing her mind, of course," Wim added, thoughtful. "Thank you for warning us, Stan-luc. We will take care of Bess-lin."
"You should go home now." Dadina smiled. "I'm sure Arielle will help you relax."
Stan-luc frowned and pursed his lips. "You don't think my grandmother is going to ruin my wedding, do you?"
"Might be a good way of reminding her you who you are." Wim grinned. "Don't worry, she can't prevent you from marrying our daughter. We'll check her mental health and then decide what to do – she probably has forgotten that the wedding is two weeks away."
Stan-luc nodded, still worried.
"Go home, Stan-luc, and relax. We'll take care of it."
Star Minds Third Generation Snippets Page 13