by Rik Thompson
"I need someone to keep a journal on the progress of this project, one whose words will go down in the history in all the trade journals across the world."
"Oh," she replied taken aback.
"So, that is why you requested me."
"Exactly," he replied, "I want you to write it all down for me."
Gazing at you I feel the heat ... I get excitement at your feet ...The Who
THREE
Timothy was at work on the night shift early - two hours early. He would work out a logical design, and try to put it down on paper for the frame builders. If he could do that then work could
begin tonight; if not, he and his staff could bat around a few ideas. Yet he already knew what he wanted. All that was left now was to visualize it for the team. He went to the drawing board.
"Well, well, well, you are sure here early," Shirley said as she came in to find him at a drafting table.
"You too," he replied checking out her work apparel. She was attired in a green, tight fitting jumpsuit, her hair hung down loosely over her shoulders. She wore no makeup, but Timothy felt she didn't need any. She was very attractive without it.
"You look ready for work," he replied with a smile, regarding the loose-leaf notebook she carried in her left hand.
"Yes, I guess I do. Now all I have to do is make the adjustment to working at night."
"Oh, it won't be any problem, within the week this work will be so interesting that you'll never want to leave."
She moved closer to the drafting table, noticing the drawing Timothy was working on.
"This must be the project you mentioned."
"Yes, indeed," he replied, "this is a resemblance to our man and woman of the immediate future, but it's really hard to see that here as this is only the skeletal structure."
· * * *
A week passed. The work on the new human droid was proceeding excellently. So good in fact that Timothy was a guest at Shirley's apartment, in West Covina, for a small celebration.
"Tonight, is the night we see what we have," he said. "I should think we will be done with the final programming, and give the droid a test drive."
"I know it will be fine," Shirley said as she brought a strange looking casserole dish to the table.
"What in the world is that?"
"Spinach, eggplant parmesan," Shirley answered with a wink. "It's one of my favorite recipes."
And it was very delightful. Baked in a thick bread crust, it had cheese, and a beef broth which brought out the superb taste all ingredients.
"You sure can cook up a storm," Timothy said. "I always wondered what motivated a woman to want to cook, but since I met you, and had dinner a few times, I can understand the inspiration now. It's beautiful, this eggplant parmesan.”
"Spinach eggplant parmesan. Do you really think so?"
"You have accomplished a masterpiece!"
Shirley blushed, "Well I hardly think I can be compared to a ..."
“Artist,” Tim replied, “I would tend to disagree with that. You did a beautiful job.”
"But the only problem with cooking this way all the time is the dishes. I don't mind the cooking; I just hate to do the dishes."
"You have a dishwasher here, don't you?"
"Yes, but I don't like to use it."
"Tell you what then, I'll do the dishes for you tonight."
"You'll do the dishes? I don't think so."
"What do you mean you don't think so?"
"I'm not having you clean up my mess, especially not you. Besides, if you started to clean up that mess in the kitchen we would never get to work on time."
He insisted on it. "Listen to me, McAllister, and don't tell your boss what to do. If I want to clean up the kitchen for you, then you should take it as my privilege."
"No," Shirley protested.
He finished eating, and headed for the kitchen. Shirley spun around and quickly blocked his entry.
"You better let me through."
"No, I will not."
He wrapped his arms around her waist and without a thought in his mind, drew her to him and kissed her full on the mouth.
“What was that for?" she asked as surprised as he.
"Oh. I'm sorry Shirley. I guess I didn't know what I was ..."
Then he kissed her again. And she kissed him.
· * * *
Tim was proud of the job, Henri Adams, the chief frame designer had accomplished.
"You have managed to pull off a perfect skeleton for our humanoid. And you did it way ahead of schedule. I'm thoroughly impressed and satisfied with it, Henri. Our humanoid will be as beautiful and graceful as ... poetry."
Henri smiled, and gestured with his huge hands, “Well, I have been in the frame business for the past fifteen years.”
“Yes, and I can tell you know your business.”
“In a few months,” Henri added, his bald dome shining in the overhead light “we will be making our robots as pretty as McAllister here.”
Tim smiled, “I don’t believe that will happen anytime soon. Fact is, McAllister, could never be compared to anything, man would create and that droid would have to be programmed for a million years just to make one gourmet dish she can create with the wave of her tiny, little hand."
Henri cleared his throat, "Excuse me, I have to make some last-minute adjustments," he said trying to hold back a shy grin.
"Good job, Henri. Damn good work!"
Tim applauded as Henri exited the room.
Shirley smiled. "I knew it. I just knew it," she said pausing.
"Knew what?"
"Mother always told me that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."
· * * *
"Can you believe Henri finishing up the frame modifications and turning out the final in less than a week?"
"Yes, I can believe it," she replied while examining the menu at what had become their favorite Chinese restaurant, in Covina.
"Henri is the best in the business, and I knew if anyone could modify the traditional frame he could. Why, I bet you didn't know that your father hired him just before he retired, now, did you?"
Come to think of it he wasn't aware of it at all.
"Now, if we can only get the CPU, and the rest of the hardware downsized enough to fit in such a reduced space," Tim replied with a sigh.
"I don't see any problem with that either," Shirley replied.
"Well, I'm sure glad you are so sure of it. Frankly, I have my doubts."
"Rest assured. If anyone can pack things, Thomaslav can."
Tim raised a curious brow.
"Andre Thomaslav," Shirley continued, "is one of the top men in the field of Micronics."
They talked on over dinner, hashing it out among themselves, the intricacies and complexities of the project as a whole.
It was Friday night, and since the project was forging ahead at such a pace, and quite ahead of schedule, an intense schedule, Tim thought it a night of celebration.
"Hey, I know what we can do tonight?"
"What's that?"
"Let's celebrate. Let's go to the Galaxy Club."
· * * *
The drinks flowed; the conversation bathed in mood lighting was varied, bright and cheerful. Sitting high atop North Hollywood, the Galaxy was famous for its perfect nights, perfect moments.
"And what is your idea of the perfect woman?"
He ran his hand through his shoulder length black hair.
"My idea of the perfect woman is a plate of good food, innovation, compromise, and communication, and absolutely beautiful, in the standards of the world."
"And that's all? That’s a tall order.”
He crossed his arms, "Well, not exactly," he replied slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"I love to eat. But I also love to laugh and especially do it with a good friend."
"What about love?"
Tim smiled deeply, heartily, and continued, "I was trying to avoid that subject, Shirley dear, a
cooker, a good looker, and quite the woman."
"It sounds like a proposal of sorts," Shirley replied, but added quickly, "but then again, how many drinks have you had?"
"Not so many drinks that I can't see the obvious."
"And what, pray tell, is that?"
He stood up, walked around the table to where she sat. He reached down and lifted Shirley into his arms.
"Tim! Oh God, put me down you're ..."
He kissed her full on the mouth as he held her there in the air in the beautiful night and the wondrous setting of the Galaxy Club.
The room stared on.
· * * *
They took a cab. He thought it best to leave the Generator in the park lot, and call a taxi.
"This is where you live?" Shirley asked entering his new townhouse.
"Yeah, but don't look at the mess. It's true I've only moved from my parents a week now, but it should be a lot more organized than this."
He flipped a switch just as they entered and a miniature traffic signal turned red, then went to yellow, and finally to green. Just as Dave Brubeck started came to life on the stereo.
“I like that.”
“She not only looks good, cooks good, but the lady comes with a taste of good sound.”
For the most part, aside from the well laid out electronic additions, the place was quite the wreck. A desk full of papers scattered about. There was a terminal on the desk, only one would have to look for it.
"It's fine; really it is. It could use a woman's touch though."
"It sure could. Here, come over here and sit on the couch. I believe that will suffice for a woman's touch just now. And I'll see if I can find us a drink."
Shirley plopped down on the couch, and kicked off her quarter heels. She took a minute to take in the environment, forty minutes from North Hollywood, and the Galaxy Club, in West Covina. She looked up and out into the night sky, through the plexi-glass ceiling. Squirming, she sank deeper into the sectional, and propped her feet up on the foot stool.
Tim came into the room with the drinks and took a seat at Shirley's feet on the foot stool, and then he slipped on down to the floor.
"Here try this, and tell me if I made it too strong."
Shirley sipped her drink, "No, it's just the way I like it, perfect."
"Well, here we are in the boss' apartment. Now what do we do?"
He glanced down at her bare feet.
"Let's play footsies,” he said as he bent over and took her left foot into his hand.
"What in the world ..."
"This little piggy went to market," he said to her big toe as if in a childhood game.
"And this little piggy, the jealous one,” he said as he held the second toe in his hand, “went along for the ride."
Shirley felt girlish which brought on an ensuing storm of laughter.
"Please Tim; I'm very ticklish down there."
"I'm sorry. You mean you never had a man play with your toes before?"
“Are you kidding? No man has ever just been interested in a woman’s foot.”
"But sweetie,” Tim replied as he gently caressed her toes,” this is where your soul is," Tim said as he sat at her feet, cradling her left foot in his hand. He lowered his face down next to her foot and peeked at her from between her toes.
"You're crazy, Timothy Joseph Wade!"
"Crazy? You really think I'm crazy? Do you really?"
"Okay, maybe you're not crazy. But you sure are a silly, silly man. Come on up here and talk to me."
"As soon as I'm finished, and I'm not finished yet."
"But you have to know, I’m very ticklish."
He sat her foot on the edge of the stool, next to her right one. Then moved his face close to them and caressed them with the side of his face.
"Tim ..."
Gently, carefully, he ran his tongue along the ball of her left foot.
"Timmy..."
"Now tell me, does that tickle?"
She didn't know what to say think or do. It was all so -
He resumed as she watched. He worked his tongue upward along the arch of her foot to the toes.
OH DAMN!
He took her big toe into his mouth, and gently massaged it with his tongue.
I'm going to mess my panties!
He did each toe on both of her feet. He sucked them gently at first. Then the passion drove deep inside him.
He took both of her feet into his hands and began to kiss them passionately, and lovingly.
"Timmy, Tim, I can't stand this."
He smiled. He knew she was very right.
Shirley began to unbutton her blouse, "I want you. And I want you bad ... And I want you now."
Timothy stood up, tried to. By now he was quite intoxicated on this beautiful woman in his apartment.
· * * *
"I'm sorry sweetie. I don't know what came over me. I guess -"
She quieted him, "It's not all your fault, and it’s not mine as well. I should have said no when we didn't have something to ... I guess it was out of control by then.”
They each knew what they had done; the sordid truth rained down on them like a sledgehammer. They knew they had been irresponsible in a world where responsibility was of the utmost importance. And as they lay in each other's arms they each hoped and prayed there would be no dire consequence in their foolhardiness.
FOUR
CALIFORNIA POPULATION CONTROL: Los Angeles County
Sylvie Robers ambled straight up to the coffee maker. The glass carafe was empty and made a crackling sound as a black sludge formed at the bottom of the glass pot. She picked up the carafe and stared down at the bubbly crust of dried coffee. She picked up and carried the pot into the reception area.
"Suzie, do you know who did this?" she asked as she held the carafe up to the girl.
Suzie, a short and skinny woman, with limp brown hair took note of the coffee pot in her supervisor’s hand and realized suddenly that it was her the week to make the coffee for the office. She immediately became fearful. She knew how Sylvie Robers could react over slight infractions, such as unattended coffee pots and she also knew that her reaction might be exceedingly harsh. Even though she was only five feet tall, Suzie was, for the most part, a stick of dynamite waiting to explode at any occurrence that was contrary to her way of thought.
"No, miss Robers, when I came into the office this morning the pot was still half full."
"Could you do us both a favor and make us some coffee? Aren’t you the one that minds the coffee pot this week?”
“Yes, but I… “
“But what? But what? Sylvie chastised, “Get over here and make the coffee, now! It is your job for the week, now see if you can at least do it.
“In the meantime, I am going to ferret out the villain who emptied the pot and left it on the burner.”
Sylvie Robers needed her coffee, probably as much as a teacher needed a piece of chalk and an eraser; without it she wasn't functional and, in this job, one definitely needed functionality.
She is the head caseworker for the California Population Control Board, as well as, the head of the board, and although she was one in ten thousand workers covering the state in this occupation, there was still too few people for a job of this magnitude. Her caseload is enormous, her duties complex and varied. The many complex and faceted jobs she did do for the board involved a constant inventory of couples who either were planning for children, or already were parents. Some of the questions she would have to provide answers for in the course of her work were: the welfare of the child and all the responsibilities that made for a good parent. Her position was to enforce the guidelines set up by the World Population Control Board.
She enjoyed her work even though at times it was quite frustrating and painful. It was most gratifying to make sure that each child in her zone of authority was loved and cared for.
She had a very good reason for this.
· * * *
She was born Sylvi
e Marie Robers, April 23, thirty-nine years ago. Her father deserted two months before she came into the world, her mother remarried before she was four months old.
· * * *
MAY, 2003
"I'm sorry, Katie. I should have known what was coming at the plant."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, dear. I know it's not your fault that you lost your job. It's their fault. They didn't care enough about the company to upgrade their plant so they could withstand the competition."
Looking for and finding a job was rough in any field. The recession of the early nineties was still underway in most of the nation, and it was a good bet another one was just around the corner. Only the politicians said that it had ended; the working men and women knew better. The truth of the matter was, there was no relief for most in the work force, and it seemed the country was in a continual recession.
It was a time of great upheaval and the world was changing at a rapid pace unknown before in the history of man. ………...Keith Senne
Weeks went by and with that passage of weeks, Harvey Robers; circuit board assembly man could not find a job. His wife, Katherine would look for work as women now had the same rights as men in finding a job. Through the passage of the bill for women's rights, passed in nineteen ninety-nine, women could do anything a man could do in term of employment, finally getting paid for their worth.
Women, in all respects though were still considered a minority in the work force. Katherine, realizing the dire situation the family was in found work on the very first day of her search.
· * * *
Harvey Robers was out of bed first, early, that following morning. He made a pot of coffee, and when the alarm rang and Katherine awoke, she arose abruptly and made her way into the kitchen in her flowery pajamas still intertwined in sleep. Harvey had her breakfast waiting on the table.
"I see that you are adjusting to the domestic life quite nicely," she said as she wandered into the kitchen yawning, her hair all askew.