Poly didn’t look quite so confident but was game to go forward.
“Make it so,” she said.
Deborah held a pair of aerosol bottles under our noses and pressed the plungers. I assumed they’d come up with some sort of psychotropic nanoparticles.
“Take a deep breath,” she said.
We did. And then my world turned upside down.
* * * * *
I was inside Poly’s head—sharing her thoughts and feelings. It felt like I was caught up in a tsunami of ideas and emotions flooding my senses, though not through any of the usual six modes of sensory input. A sixty-foot wave broke over my brain and I was drowning in data, struggling to interpret all the information I was receiving. I inhaled, held it, and let my breath out slowly—at least my autonomic nervous system was still working. That helped. I could start to interpret currents in the ocean of Poly’s emotions and translated them as colors. Poly’s individual thoughts came through as shapes, floating on the underlying emotional currents.
A blue current ran broad and deep in Poly’s brain. I “tasted” it, though taste is not how I really perceived it. Describing telepathy is going to require a whole new vocabulary. The blue current was Poly’s love of learning and was one of the reasons we were a good match. I imagined I had a similar wide blue current in my brain. I tasted other currents—a fast, deep, red river of passion, a bright, sun-yellow current of joy, a narrow green channel of envy, and a cool, light-blue river of logical inquiry. Then I looked below the colorful surface waters and saw dark black and gray layers in the depths.
With a metaphorical hand, I stretched out and brought a sample of the subsurface water to my lips to “taste.” The black water tasted like not measuring up, never being good enough no matter how hard she tried. It was the bitter taste of withheld parental approval, of not being worthy of love. There were three shades to the black water and I sensed that they represented Poly’s mother, father and sister. Threads of orange anger colored the blackness in bursts and the flow of water representing Poly’s sister Pomy was lit from below as though from the light of an active submarine volcano oozing lava, building itself ever higher. Poly had issues with Pomy.
I turned myself to the shapes. They were individual thoughts, and were “flavors,” rather than colors, but somehow I “saw” them instead of tasting them. Poly’s brain was revealing what she was thinking.
Would she be successful running Xenotech Support?
Would our partnership work long-term?
Would she figure out what Cornell was up to?
Would her family be proud of her?
Would the mustard stain from lunch come out of her shirt?
Would she be able to solve the mystery her friends at GalCon Systems had presented?
Would Jack ever take things to the next level?
And would he be pleased if he did?
Huh? I thought.
There was also a shape that didn’t reveal the thoughts inside when I “saw” it. It was a small, gray marble square shot through with striations in a multitude of colors—cool whites, hot pinks, calm greens, dotted with flecks of black. It made me think of Pandora’s Box and I didn’t know if I wanted to try to “open” it or not.
Then the ocean of Poly’s thoughts and emotions shifted from an endless sea to more of a sphere as if a large gravity source was bending and constraining it. Soon, the open ocean was a tight ball of liquid with shapes floating on it. A blink later, the ball was covered with a mirrored surface. Before the mirror snapped completely into place I “saw” one last bright and spiky thought-shape from Poly’s brain.
“Wow!”
* * * * *
“Wow!” I echoed.
We were both weak-kneed and Robert and Johan led us behind their table to sit down on a pair of rickety folding chairs. Poly grabbed my hand and held it like it was a life preserver.
“I need a drink,” said Poly.
“You don’t drink,” I said.
“I know,” said Poly, “but I’m thinking of getting one anyway.”
“Have some chocolate,” said Deborah, handing us each a bar of Ghirardelli’s Dark. “It worked for us when we tested it on ourselves.”
Poly and I opened our bars and began to eat.
“You tested it on yourselves?” I asked, between bites.
“Yes,” said Deborah. “Extensively.”
“And you’re still partners?”
Poly looked particularly fetching with chocolate at the corners of her mouth.
Wait! What was that supposed to mean?
“Stronger than ever,” said Johan.
“Absolutely,” said Robert. It must be one of his favorite words.
The chocolate made a difference. I was feeling like I’d been partially reassembled after being broken down into my constituent subassemblies. Once my brain was functioning again, I realized that it was critical this technology didn’t get into the wrong hands.
“Still interested in the million galcreds I’d mentioned?” I said.
“Where do we sign?” asked Deborah.
“Let’s figure out the details of the agreement,” I said, “and we can have the papers delivered immediately by drone.”
“Of course, you’ll have to change the name of the company,” said Poly.
“What’s wrong with Telepathic Solutions?” asked Robert.
“Nothing, if you want to spend the next decade at one sixth gee,” said Poly.
“Oh,” said Robert. “Right.”
“What will we call the company, then?” asked Deborah.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “I think you’ll like it.”
After a brief telephone conversation with my lawyer back in Atlanta, papers specifying the terms of Xenotech Support’s million galcred payment along with a corporate name change for Telepathic Solutions arrived at the booth by delivery drone. Deborah and Johan were both laughing by the time they’d finished reading the details about the name change.
“I don’t get it,” said Robert, scratching his head. “Why not put our names in alphabetical order?”
“Explain it to him,” said Johan, smiling at Deborah.
Deborah didn’t say anything. She just pulled up a YouTube video of Abbott and Costello’s famous comedy routine on her phone and handed it to Robert.
“Oh,” he said when the video finished. “Right. Hu Zahn Fierst Corporation it is.”
We never did get to see more of the small booths at the back of the exhibit hall. By the time all the details were wrapped up it was time to return to our hotel to get ready for dinner.
Chapter 10
“Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...”
— Oscar Hammerstein, The King and I
We didn’t talk during the autocab ride back to the Grand Pyridian. Poly and I held hands, but it was more a matter of our fingers barely touching than any sort of firm connection. I looked out my window as the lights and sights of the Strip sped in front of my eyes, then glanced over and saw that Poly also seemed to be lost in thought, staring out the window on her side. Despite having to shut out the insights we’d gained through the Hu Zahn Fierst telepathy spray in order to complete our business deal with the three company founders, Poly and I still had a lot to process once we were alone. I hoped nothing she’d seen in my head had caused her pain.
The autocab dropped us off and the high-speed hotel elevator took us up to our suite on the sixty-third floor in less time than it would take me to recite a limerick.
There was a young maiden from Nicós
Whose lover took her to the seacoast…
Poly took a seat at the round table in what passed for the suite’s dining area.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked.
&n
bsp; Poly nodded and stared out the suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows like she’d done in the autocab. I was starting to worry. I made two cups of tea in the suite’s well-stocked kitchen, putting plenty of sugar in both. I put one delicate cup on the table near Poly and cradled the fragile porcelain of the other in both my hands. Maybe it was the air conditioning putting a chill into the air between us.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t look me in the eye.
“Uh huh.”
Poly turned away from the windows long enough to pick up her teacup in one hand, then turned back.
“Please, talk to me.”
She was quiet. I couldn’t see her eyes to read them. Then she started to tremble.
“You must hate me.”
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?”
I put my tea down, pulled my chair next to hers, and took her free hand. This time I held it tightly, making a firm connection.
“I don’t hate you, I love you.”
Poly sniffled.
“But you saw what was inside my head. How can you not hate me?”
“Huh?” I said.
Poly stiffened.
“I knew you’d react like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Pretending you couldn’t see the real me…”
“I did see the real you, dear lady, and you seemed to be amazingly together, given your family dynamics.”
“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings,” said Poly. “I can take it.”
“I don’t need to lie. And cut it out.”
“Cut what out?”
“The woe-is-me, I’m-all-screwed-up routine,” I said. “It may fit a subset of humanity, but not you. You’re one of the most amazing, talented and competent people I know. It hurts me to see you consumed with self-doubt.”
“The self-doubt is part of who I am, Jack,” said Poly. “I saw the idealized version of me in your head. I’m not that woman.”
“Sure you are,” I started to say, then stopped myself. “Okay,” I said. “You’re a complex individual, a mix of self-doubt and self-confidence.”
“Self-confidence is more your domain.”
“Uh…”
“No, really,” she said, turning in her chair to face me and squeezing my hand. “I saw inside your head. Your streak of optimistic self-confidence glows like a supernova. Looking at your brain made me wish I was wearing sunglasses.”
I sat back in my chair. I knew I had a positive outlook on life, but the way Poly was describing what she’d seen inside my head made my way of looking at the world seem like a negative, not a positive.
“I guess that’s just how I am,” I said, sticking my tongue out like the classic Albert Einstein photo to illustrate my flaws.
“I know,” said Poly, “and it’s so blasted infuriating. You’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect, I’m just simpleminded,” I said, slapping an idiot’s grin on my face.
“Well, maybe…” said Poly. I could hear the hint of a smile in her voice.
“Hey!”
“Naive might be a better term,” she said. “You’re kind and generous and optimistic and expect everyone else to be the same.”
That pulled me up short. Maybe she was right. I’d have to think about it. Right now, I needed to make a point.
“Let’s get something clear. I’m not perfect and you’re not a mess.”
“Only someone perfect would say that,” said Poly. “I’m feeling intimidated.”
“By me?” I said. “Then we’re even. You make me feel intimidated. You’re so good at so many things.”
“But I’m like a duck swimming on the water—it looks smooth from the surface, but underneath I’m paddling furiously,” said Poly.
“I didn’t know you were into that,” I said.
“What?” asked Poly, sounding puzzled.
“Paddling,” I said with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
Poly playfully punched me on my shoulder. Her eyes were laughing.
“Sounds like someone’s getting ahead of himself.”
“What the duck?” I said.
“You quack me up,” said Poly.
Our exchange was lame, but we both started to laugh with the kind of laughter you only get after a release of serious tension. Poly and I still had a lot to talk about, but it could wait. I stood up and helped Poly get to her feet, then the two of us walked to the suite’s main bedroom and started kissing. The suite’s huge bed was behind me. Poly pushed me backwards onto it, then joined me. We kissed again, gently, while lying on our sides with our arms around each other. I massaged Poly’s back as we embraced and she returned the favor. After a few minutes of quite pleasant cuddling and kissing she raised her head and looked into my eyes.
“Jack,” she said, “who is Rosalind?”
“Ummm…”
She kissed me, which didn’t help me focus on her question. I stalled.
“Why do you ask?”
“When I looked in your head,” said Poly, “I saw lots of joy and very little pain.”
“Uh…”
“But there was something dark and red and angry and painful deep down,” she said. “It was mostly scabbed over, but it seemed like it hurt you a lot. The only identifier that seeped out from the wound was the word Rosalind.”
I must have looked decidedly uncomfortable. I certainly felt that way.
“Tell me about her…”
She kissed me again, not as gently, then stared at me, her eyes encouraging me to talk.
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“I’m not proud of it,” I said.
“It will make my poor, screwed up, insecure heart warm to know that even the great Jack Buckston has a toe of clay,” said Poly, smiling.
I relaxed and tried to figure out where to start. Poly kissed me again, which didn’t make trying to talk easier.
“Stop that,” I said, “or your heart’s going to get warmer for a different, more cardiovascular health-related reason.”
Poly leaned back and propped her head up on one elbow.
“Go for it,” she said, looking attentive.
“Okay,” I said, “I hope you enjoy schadenfreude.”
“Every bit as much as the next girl,” said Poly with a hint of a grin. “Now tell.”
I figured out a starting point and began the tale.
“It was late in my second year of grad school on Orish,” I said. “Remember when I told you I ran a casino in an old morphing troop ship that functioned as a classroom by day and the planet’s oldest established permanent floating crap game by night?”
“Sure,” said Poly. “That was after you were tending bar and met Chit during your first year at Mulbiri Tech.”
“Right,” I said. “But I kept tending bar, only for my casino, not for the dive where I’d worked initially.”
Poly’s left eyebrow rose quizzically.
“But you don’t drink.”
“Which made me a better bartender than most, since I didn’t sample the inventory.”
Poly nodded.
“Doing it myself let me keep an eye on everything from the back of the bar,” I said, “and kept payroll down, too.”
“Robotic dealers and croupiers?” asked Poly.
“Uh huh,” I said. “My personal designs. Chit and I could run the place on our own. She’d flit around, keeping an eye out for people trying to cheat, and I’d run the bar and the bank. Chit made a good bouncer, too. You don’t want a Murm buzzing in your ear, believe me.”
“I believe you,” said Poly. “Where does Rosalind come in?”
“I’m getting there
. It wasn’t that long after the Pâkk-Orish War and plenty of older Orishens attending Tech on their equivalent of the GI Bill were patronizing my casino. They were tough characters and appreciated a chance to get a drink and do some gambling without having to leave campus.”
“How much did you pay the administration and campus security to turn a blind eye?” asked Poly.
“Enough,” I said, wincing slightly at the memory. Baksheesh was part of life on Orish and bribes ate up more than half of my revenue. “Do you want to hear this story or not?”
Poly nodded and moved her hand in a circular “keep going” gesture, then rested her palm on my hip.
“Okay, then. It was a dark and stormy…”
Poly poked me in the ribs and frowned at me theatrically.
“No, really,” I said. “It was a dark and stormy night and I was behind the bar at my casino. Chit was away for a few days visiting another Murm who’d just landed on Orish and was staying at a downtown hotel.
Business was slow—there weren’t a lot of casino patrons because of the weather. I was keeping my eye on a Nicósn card shark at a table on the far side of the room away from the front door when I heard As Time Goes By playing on the jukebox. A beautiful human woman wearing a trench coat stepped over to the bar and took a stool in front of me. I knew my lines.”
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine…” said Poly.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what ran through my brain, but what I said was…”
* * * * *
“Good evening, Miss. What can I get for you?”
“White wine,” she said, “and some advice.”
“Wine I’ve got, but not from Terran grapes. It’s pretty cheap,” I said. “I may have some advice, too, but most people say it’s worth even less.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the woman.
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