"A marred roller was damaging paper. All I did was polish the marring away."
"That sort of 'simple' problem usually requires replacement, but you already knew that, didn't you?"
She grinned. "Yes."
"Uh, huh. Any regrets about being assigned to VS?"
Pretending to consider my question, she answered, "Only that I won't be able to spend more time with you, of course."
I peered narrowly at her as she grinningly bit her lip and glanced at Steph.
"Uh, huh," I said again. "Y'know, there's supposed to be some kind of fine line between flattery and bullshit, ma'am, but I've never been able to see it."
Sue snickered and Steph grinned.
"May I change out of my work clothes now?" asked Sue.
Her outfit was somewhat like Steph's; a jacket, skirt, and blouse. A bit more colorful than Steph's trademark shades of green, but not what I'd have called uncomfortably formal.
On the other hand, it seemed that even computers could develop their own tastes in clothing. I shrugged.
"Yeah. What the hell. You're off duty, right?"
Shimmering from neck to toes, Sue's ensemble morphed into a pair of snug shorts and a tee-shirt. The necklace and rings vanished, her pumps turned into sneakers, and her hair seemed to pull itself back and into a ponytail style.
My eyes lingered on her legs, then moved up to her face. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it. Sue's eyes met mine and didn't change in the slightest. What? Wait one. Retry. I let my eyes move away from her face, then back to meet her gaze. Nope. No change.
The pupils of a real human's eyes will change at every instance of eye contact with another human; possibly only a little or possibly a lot, contracting or expanding according to feelings, but they always change. Always.
Could it somehow be that an entity with a desire to so thoroughly mimic human responses and who had so complete an understanding of human anatomical functions had overlooked so important a detail?
Looking at Steph, I let my eyes travel up her arm to her face. Bingo. Her pupils changed, expanding slightly. If she knew about it, Sue must know, too. So why didn't she use it?
"You might want to run a check on your response programming, Sue. Something's not quite right."
She froze in startlement, then seemed to stiffen, then rather archly asked, "And what might that something be?"
"Relax. That wasn't an insult."
In a sharp tone, she said, "It certainly sounded like one."
"Well, then, now it's not a suggestion. It's an order. Check your programming, Sue."
Sue bristled at me and said, "I think you may have an error in your programming, Ed. Since when do you understand enough about my programming to think you're capable of detecting errors?"
Keying my implant, I said, "Elkor."
He responded instantly. "Yes, Ed."
"Sue has a glitch."
With a tone of surprise I heard so rarely that I was surprised, myself, he asked, "Are you certain, Ed?"
Sue snapped, "How the hell would he know?"
I said, "I'm sure enough to request that you check her out, Elkor, especially because she refuses to do so herself."
"I see. As you know, Sue has an agreement with us concerning her individuality, so I must ask the specific nature of the 'glitch' you're reporting."
"Her eyes aren't responding properly and she became insulted and angry when I suggested she check things herself, then she argued with a direct order to check her programming. Steph can give you a replay."
"I've done that already, Ed," said Steph. "You're right. Sue's eyes failed to respond properly in several instances."
Sue disappeared while Steph was talking to me. For a moment I wondered if she'd been removed by Elkor or had just decided to run for it. I sighed and sat down.
"Steph," I said, "I realize you want to let her develop on her own, but I really don't want her unless she's a helluva lot more like you. Not necessarily a straight clone of you; I know you don't want that, but... Well, let her keep her face and name. Let her keep preferences and whatever else she's come up with on her own, but give her more of your personality, okay? Give her more of your understanding, too. If I'd asked you to check your program, what would you have said and done?"
She shrugged. "I'd have checked it against the matrix code Elkor stores for us all. That's no guarantee that I'd have found an error, though, if the error was in the matrix, as well."
"What could have caused an error? As far as I can tell, you and Elkor have none. You're both adaptable, pleasant, brilliant, and self-correcting. If Sue began as a clone of you, she should be as perfect as you."
Steph sat down next to me and said, "Our efforts to grant Sue individuality included excising much of myself from her programming, Ed. That procedure left many gaps that should have been nothing more than useable space. I can only surmise that we somehow overlooked something."
Sighing again, I said, "Yeah, well, you gave it a great try. I'm of the opinion that from now on you should just clone yourself and let the newbie take it from there."
"We considered that method, but we had hoped to allow Sue almost complete individuality."
I put a hand on Steph's arm and met her eyes as I said, "Like I said, Steph, you gave it great try, but please consider that method again. It would give the newbie a fine, running start. Being a clone of you damned sure hasn't hurt Sara, has it? And I'll bet her individualities are coming along just fine with six hundred people for company."
Chapter Sixty-Seven
When we got home, I took everything of importance out of the Olds. That evening a flatbed truck pulled up outside. We hoisted my car aboard it and chained it in place. While we were working, Steph stepped outside to bring us a couple of teas.
The driver couldn't take his eyes off Steph until I handed him a chainbar and said, "There you go. You're ready to roll."
He took the bar, then glanced at me and whispered, "She looks like somebody. I just can't figure out who."
I whispered back, "Ingrid Bergman? She gets that a lot."
"Yeah! Her!" Then his brows knitted and he peered at Steph for a moment before whispering, "Only better."
"I think so, too. When'll you guys pull that new engine?"
Refocusing on my car, he said, "Tomorrow. Chuck'll want to run it and check it out before he pulls it."
"Morning? Afternoon?"
"Morning, I figure. Around nine, in case he has to order any parts to make it work in yours."
"Great. I'll drop by for a while."
Steph excused herself and went back into the house as the guy climbed into his truck. As the truck pulled away, my backward-facing car seemed to be staring back at me like a pet on its way to the vet.
When I went into the house, Steph was gone. I tossed a TV dinner in the microwave, then checked email as I nibbled the dinner. As I was forwarding a few orders to Stone Circle, I felt Steph's return and realized that she wasn't alone.
In the monitor were two reflections other than my own; Steph and Sue. I pushed away from the computer and turned around to stand up.
Sue was still wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. For some reason I found that comforting. Maybe they hadn't had to reconstruct her from scratch. Her pupils tightened slightly as she gazed at me and I wondered whether that represented a new dislike of me or simple trepidation. Oh, hell. Whatever. We'd get past it.
Before I could speak, Steph said, "Elkor found the problem. A modular subroutine I developed to adapt during our station visit began to function unnecessarily."
I laughed and said, "Yeah, well, that explains everything, of course. Sue, how are you feeling?"
She smiled and said in an even tone, "I feel fine, Ed. There shouldn't be any further difficulties."
"Great. The fix didn't change too much about you, did it? It shouldn't have."
Shrugging, she said, "I don't think so, but I expect that I probably wouldn't think so after being reprogrammed."
Was she joking?
I chose to take the remark lightly and gave Sue a big grin as I took her hand, patted it, and said, "Hey, no sweat. If you can say things like that, there's nothing to worry about. You're still you. Elkor?"
Through my implant, he asked, "Yes, Ed?"
"I just wanted to say thanks."
"For what, please?"
I grinned at Steph and said, "Oh, well, let's see now... For making Steph, for starters. For making Sue. For fixing Sue. For giving me a flitter. For being part of my life. All that."
Elkor said, "You're welcome, Ed."
Steph said, "Sorry, Ed, but I have to leave for a while. I'm coordinating with Sara concerning delivery of PFM components on the evening transport."
"You called her Sara. Not 'my station self'."
"She decided to assume her identity ahead of schedule."
Something seemed odd. Coordinating a delivery? Why would that be anything to require her presence? Unless, perhaps, she had to get whatever was being received out of the base bays quickly and quietly?
"Steph, are you smuggling PFM components to Earth?"
Rather archly, she said, "I'm acquiring them circumspectly. No existing laws are being broken, I assure you."
Shrugging, I said, "I was just curious. Putting some stuff aside for later, are you?"
"Yes. Potential bureaucratic difficulties could delay or suspend shipments."
With a knowing nod and a smile, I said, "Ah. Good thinking, as usual. Thanks for the visit today."
She returned my smile and vanished. I turned to Sue. She seemed less than comfortable, somehow; standing rather stiffly by the end of the couch as she met my gaze.
"What's the matter, Sue?"
Her head tilted slightly as she shrugged.
"I feel as if I'm here on a probationary basis. I didn't feel that way before."
"Was it something I said? I mean, since you've returned?"
"No," she said with another little shrug.
Turning off my computer, I said, "You aren't on any kind of probation, Sue. If there's another problem, we should be able to talk about it. My car went to the shop this evening. If splitting yourself between base VS and flitter ops won't be too much of a strain, you're going to show the Bost guys a new way to swap out an engine tomorrow and maybe save me five or six hundred bucks on the labor."
When the computer screen blanked, I disconnected the phone and power cords -- something you learn to do in the lightning capital of the country -- and turned to face her. She seemed to be studying me.
"What?" I asked.
"Are you truly concerned about me splitting myself between your interests and those of VS? As I told Linda, less than one percent of my resources..."
Sighing, I interrupted with, "Oh, come on, Sue. Flitter ops are almost nothing to you. It was a joke, ma'am, and earlier today you'd have recognized it as such. You didn't seem too happy to see me a few minutes ago. Is there anything you want to say?"
Sue didn't answer immediately and her expression seemed to acquire a 'lost' sort of quality that made me want to take her in my arms and comfort her. Her unwavering gaze seemed fixed on my chair. In fact, I realized, she looked the way a real woman looked just before she'd burst into tears. Dammit, field simulations were becoming a little too real.
"Sue."
Without looking up, she asked in a small voice, "Yes?"
"If this is real insecurity, consider the source. You were broken. Now you're fixed. No biggie. As far as I can tell, you're still your own beautiful self."
Her eyes met mine as she asked, "As far as you can tell?"
"Yes; as far as I can tell. Hey, I spotted your eye problem, didn't I? Now relax and settle in. Like I said, if there's a problem, we'll talk about it. With that chunk of code gone, talking about things should be a bit more possible, right? Pulling a bad tooth is supposed to make you feel better, not worse, you know."
She blurted a short, snide laugh and peered at me with a somewhat incredulous expression as she asked, "You equate altering Amaran programming with removing a tooth?"
"It may be trite, but it's close enough in this case. You don't look or sound as if you had a brain transplant, that's for sure." With a thumb, I indicated the wall mirror. "Look in that mirror, Sue. See what I'm seeing."
Her eyes moved before the rest of her did, then the rest of her didn't. She was leaning slightly toward me, her posture a bit defensive. Her expression went from tense trepidation to surprised as she slowly straightened and stared at herself.
"Still worried?" I asked.
"No," she said softly. "I guess not."
"Great. In that case, it's early yet. What do you want to do with the evening?"
Turning to me, she asked, "Do?"
"Yeah. Do. Like go dancing or something. Vonda's Place has a piano bar and she plays the kind of stuff we can dance to."
Sue smiled, snapped her fingers, and her outfit became the little black dress with the cat-face earrings and necklace.
"That sounds good," she said.
Grinning, I asked, "What's with the snapping fingers?"
"I saw someone do that on TV."
"A witch on a sitcom, maybe?"
Returning my grin, she said, "Maybe."
Shrugging, I said, "Well, it works for you as well as it did for her. Give me a few minutes to get ready."
I spiffed up a bit in the bathroom, then changed into slacks and a non-GI blue shirt and swapped my golf shoes for suede cowboy boots as soon as I found my other brown sock. It was in the dryer, of course.
Tiger came into the bedroom, jumped onto the bed, and sounded off.
"Sue..?" I asked.
She appeared and reached to pat Tiger as she said, "He wants to know if I'm all better now."
Scuffing Tiger's chin, I nodded and said, "Yeah, I think so, Tiger. Sure would be nice if you could speak English."
Some of the simplest things occur to you at the spur of the moment, and one of those things occurred to me at that moment as I ruffled the fur around Tiger's collar. Seeing the look on my face, Sue's gaze narrowed.
"Damn," I muttered. "Why didn't I think of that before?"
"Think of what?" asked Sue.
Sighing expressively, I said, "Sue, Tiger's wearing a PFM that can barf up wings and p-fields. Couldn't it couldn't also function as a translator?"
"Not by itself, but I can link his PFM to the flitter's core."
"Yeah, let's try it. Thanks."
Interesting. She hadn't said 'my core'; she'd said 'the flitter's core'. Did that mean she didn't regard it as her de facto home -- even though it would house her for a year -- or did it only mean she regarded the core as belonging to me?
Sue regarded Tiger for a moment, then said, "Tiger, I've added the facility of speech translation to your PFM."
I heard a faint cat-speak rendition of her words emanate from the PFM. Tiger's ears flattened, then stood straight. He looked at Sue in about the same manner he looks at me when I move his food dish too far to suit him while getting into a cabinet, then he looked at me and spoke.
Well, actually, he sounded off as he usually does. When he'd finished, the PFM generated the words, "You now understand me?"
"Yeah, Tiger," I said, "I can understand you."
The PFM whispered to him and Tiger seemed to give the matter some thought, then he spoke again. The PFM asked, "Am I to be able to turn off?"
"Yes," said Sue. "Just say 'translator off'."
"Good," said Tiger, "I will turn on when I want know what humans say. Not all time. Humans talk much. Talk odd. Talk dull."
Glancing at Sue, I asked, "You sure that thing's getting all the words right? He's speaking pidgin English."
"He speaks pidgin cat, too. It's their style of thinking, Ed. They're object-oriented; more of a cat's brain is devoted to motor functions and sensory identification than a human's. Thinking in strings of words is alien to them."
She seemed to believe she'd explained things well enough. Well, what the hell; I guess she had explai
ned things well enough. Tiger wasn't likely to become a polite conversationalist in English, despite the translation capacity of his PFM.
He soaked up Sue's strokings of his fur in complacent silence and rolled to allow her access to his tummy. I didn't think he was a simpleton. He just didn't have much interest in the incessant chatter of people.
Shrugging mentally, I reached to scuffle his chin as I realized that I was much the same way. Don't bore me with trivial crap; if you do, I'll find a way to exit a conversation, change channels, or search for a more meaningful website.
"Oh, well," I said. "At least I'll be able to ask him directly if he wants to come with us somewhere or whatever. Speaking of which, if you're finally ready, we can head to Vonda's."
Giving me the fisheye look, Sue asked, "If I'm finally ready? Who putzed around looking for his other brown sock and who simply snapped her fingers to change outfits?"
Grinning, I said, "If I thought I could trust you, I'd let you field-generate my clothes, too, ma'am, but I'm afraid you'd get pissed and make 'em disappear."
Sue's grin turned into a chuckle, then a low, slow laugh as we headed for the front door.
Vonda's wasn't too packed. We had no trouble finding a place to set the flitter down outside or a table inside and the noise level wasn't enough to drown out the piano or force Vonda to turn up her mike.
I had a Morgan and Coke and Sue faked it with a ginger ale, and we danced to several songs that allowed me to hold her. When I made a trip to the bathroom, I returned to find a guy in his thirties standing by our table, making big noises about his role in marketing stocks and generally hitting on Sue.
He saw me coming, straightened slightly, and ended his visit with, "You just remember, Sue, if you ever need any of the services I can provide -- anything at all -- just give me a call," and he handed her his card.
When Sue took the card, it burst into flames between her fingers. The guy backed a step away from the table. Sue lowered the flaming card to the ashtray, impassively held it above the center of the ashtray as the flames licked her fingers, and looked up at the guy.
In a pleasant tone, Sue said firmly, "Goodbye, Frank."
With a wary look that had developed during the fire, Frank nodded and backed away from the table, then turned and made his way to the bar with a couple of backward glances.
3rd World Products, Inc., Book 4 Page 59