Eye Candy

by Ryan Schneider

  “Safest form of travel there is.” Usually, his mind added. He probably shouldn’t have said that. Candy hadn’t mentioned the shuttle crash. Therefore he hadn’t either. Hopefully he hadn’t reminded her of it just now. He waited to see if she was going to say anything about it. He was certain she was thinking about it.

  “Are there refreshments on this flight?”

  Danny grinned to himself, impressed that Candy was being so diplomatic.

  “Look between your legs. Below the edge of your seat. See it?”

  “There’s a little compartment.” A moment later Candy produced a small silver pouch. “Coffee?”

  “Self-heating coffee. Crunch the bottom to activate the heating mechanism. In sixty seconds, when it’s ready to drink, the spout will pop up.”

  Hot coffee sounded good. Danny reached into the storage compartment under his seat and grabbed a pouch for himself. He crunched the bottom of the pouch, feeling the little rocky bits of whatever was in there as it began to heat up. He checked the label. “I have Columbian Sunrise. What have you got?”

  “Hazlenut Amaretto.”

  “How is it?”

  “Delicious. Not quite as good as the coffee you brought me yesterday, but it’s good.”

  “They were designed for the military, so combat troops could enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee while they’re out in the field.”

  “I’m glad to know they can enjoy hot coffee. They deserve it.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Danny took a long drink of coffee out of the pouch. “Do you treat many vets?”

  “I don’t treat any. Most of the robots who go off to war don’t come back.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  “Yes, but it has cut down drastically on loss of human life. For that I am thankful.”

  Danny performed a quick check of their airspeed and altitude, as well as the various systems. Everything looked good. “Do you want to see how high we can go?”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m perfectly happy right where we are. We can save it for another night.”

  They continued south for about an hour. They spoke only a little. Danny often found that flying had a curious effect on him, made him quiet and reflective, contemplative. Looking down at the orange and yellow clusters of lights he knew were towns and cities, and looking up at the endless array of stars, he felt small and humble yet capable and powerful at the same time.

  Danny checked the rear view mirror. Candy sat with her head back, looking up at the stars. She still held the silver pouch of coffee in her hand, though the pouch was very flat; clearly she’d enjoyed every last sip.

  And then it was time to land. They were reaching the limit of their fuel before cutting into reserves (a definite no-no; the majority of general aviation fatalities were the result of fuel mismanagement).

  Danny plotted a course for Santa Monica and throttled back to begin the descent.

  Candy didn’t say much. She held her empty pouch of coffee, and after they’d landed and taxied into the hangar, she held it in her hand while Danny unbuckled her safety harness. He was standing on the wing, leaning into the cockpit. She kissed him on the cheek. She looked adorable in the black flying helmet.

  ~

  In his car, with the flashing green-and-white beacon of Santa Monica Airport fading into the distance behind them, Candy reached over and took Danny’s hand.

  Danny tapped the Auto-Drive button on the dash and squeezed Candy’s hand, warm and soft in his own, and settled into his seat while the car drove itself.

  ~

  Once inside Candy’s place, she locked the door, turned, and leaned against it.

  Candy smiled. “That was fun.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Candy pushed herself away from the door, took three long strides to where Danny stood in the living room, curled her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth hard to his.

  Danny reciprocated fully, wrapping his arms around Candy’s back. He tilted his head and opened his lips as Candy’s tongue filled his mouth.

  Candy pushed her body against him, forcing him to walk backward until they reached the sofa. Together they collapsed onto it, each entwined in the other, savoring the kiss, completely lost.

  Chapter 17

  Harley’s Second Visit to a Police Station

  Harley inventoried herself in the mirror of the women’s restroom. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, teasing it up, giving it volume. She adjusted her black blazer, making certain her cleavage was showing. Her short black skirt was barely a skirt. Nothing to adjust there.

  The police station was rife with conversation and phones ringing and officers hustling about. The scent of coffee filled the air.

  It had been a long time since she’d been in a police station. She’d only been busted once, during her freshman year of college, after she’d helped graffiti a robotics lab. Had she known arson was part of the plan, she’d have remained in her dorm room, preparing for her Trig midterm. That police station had looked and smelled about the same as this one.

  Harley marched down the makeshift aisle separating two long rows of desks. If she acted as though she belonged there, as though she owned the place, most people would assume she did. It was an attitude she’d adopted early in life and had found to work more often than not. But these were cops, and cops tended to notice stuff and to ask a lot of questions. She marched on nevertheless.

  All eyes turned to watch.

  She reached the desk of Detective Ray Ramirez and sat down on its edge.

  “Detective Ramirez, I presume?”

  Detective Ramirez looked at the long legs on his desk, then followed them upward to the woman to whom they belonged. The cap of the pen he’d been chewing on remained clamped between his teeth.

  “Uh huh.”

  Harley grinned. “We need to talk.”

  ~

  Detective Ramirez placed the cup of coffee on the table before Harley. He closed the door to the private office and sat down opposite her.

  Harley jumped in before the detective had an opportunity. “I understand you’re investigating the Salton Sea shuttle crash.”

  “And how is it that you–”

  “I have my sources, Detective. At Canary Unlimited, we take great pride in our robots. When one of them is piloting a shuttle which crashes into a large body of water, we like to know about it. To be of service, of course, in any way that we can.”

  “I see.”

  “I also understand there has been mention of explosives pertaining to the incident.”

  “I’m really not at liberty to discuss–”

  “For one of our robots to be involved in a plot concocted by one of these anti-robot groups would not look good to our shareholders.”

  “I see.” Detective Ramirez sipped his coffee and did his best not to stare at the breasts very nearly exploding out of the woman’s coat. “Are you suggesting I suppress–”

  “I’m suggesting that before you go any further with your investigation, you make a phone call.” Harley slid a business card across the table.

  Detective Ramirez read it. “Where did you get this?”

  Harley merely raised one eyebrow.

  Detective Ramirez retrieved his phone from an inner coat pocket and immediately dialed the number.

  Chapter 18

  Six to the Thirty-sixth Cafe

  and

  Something for the Misses

  Blond hair.

  Danny opened his eyes and saw blond hair.

  He lifted his head. Disorientation always assailed him upon waking, as might a new robot require a few nanoseconds to come to life. White sheets surrounded him, softer and fluffier than his own. And imbued with a far sweeter scent.

  He realized where he was: Candy’s bed.

  He raised the blankets and surveyed their prone bodies: they were both fully clothed.

  Candy turned and looked at him with sleepy green eyes.

  He kissed h
er. “Good morning.”

  Candy smiled. “Good morning.” She looked around the bedroom, at the sunlight shining on the ceiling, then lifted the covers and saw they were both dressed. “How did we get here?”

  “I think we fell asleep on the sofa after a lot of kissing. Then at some point we woke up and came in here.”

  “Is that why my lips are sore? What time is it?”

  Danny found his watch absent from his wrist; he’d taken it off, though he had no recollection of when. “No idea.”

  “Shall we get up and get some breakfast?” Candy sat up and looked out the window at the afternoon light. “Or lunch.”

  “Sure.”

  “Ever been to Café Six-Thirty-Six?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Lunch is on me.” Candy climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Classical music emanated from the other room. Danny rolled out of bed and went and found his phone on the coffee table. Howard was calling. Danny tapped the green phone icon. “Hi, Howard.”

  “Good afternoon, sir. I’ve just spoken with Mr. McGherrity, from the shuttle repair facility. It seems a forensics expert from the LAPD has investigated the shuttle and determined that no explosives were present.”

  “Really. That’s interesting.”

  “I thought so as well.”

  Danny and Howard stared at one another in silence.

  “There’s something rotten in Denmark, Howard.”

  “And let us hope Heaven will direct us, sir.”

  “You know Shakespeare?”

  “All of his work is stored in my memory, though to date I have read but a few plays. They are on my ‘To-Do’ list.”

  “I hope we live long enough for you to read them.”

  “I echo your sentiment, sir.”

  Danny asked Howard to contact him if necessary, and then rang off.

  ~

  Candy and Danny walked through the courtyard of a beautiful retail complex in West Hollywood.

  Candy led Danny toward a door with Café 636 above it.

  Danny considered the sign. “Six to the Thirty-Sixth?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Isn’t it a little early for exponents? I mean it is”–he checked his watch–“almost three o’clock.”

  Candy grinned and led him inside.

  The café was a vast square with a bar along one side leading to the kitchen. The dining room and array of tables, with cozy private booths along the walls, sat on a glowing checker-board-patterned floor of large squares. Each square was about two meters on a side and glowed with a red, orange, yellow, green, blue, or purple light.

  “Six rows of six lights,” said Danny. “Six lights on a side. Six times six is thirty-six. Six to the thirty-sixth power.”

  “Very good, doctor.” Candy gave Danny a squeeze, followed by a sensuous kiss.

  “I goed to college.”

  Candy laughed at his joke.

  A robot waiter approached. He wore an apron bearing a series of illuminated squares; a smaller rendition of the restaurant’s floor. “Hello there! Welcome to Café Six-Thirty-Six. My name is Romeo and I will be taking care of you for the duration of your visit today. Won’t that be fun?”

  Romeo waved his arms about and his head swiveled loosely on his neck. He was very animated. His face didn’t seem to have any moving mechanical components, but it did employ some sort of hologram to create a convincing rendition of a male human face. Danny resisted the urge to take a closer look.

  “Would you kids prefer a table or a booth?” Romeo asked. “Let me guess: a couple of young love birds like you would prefer a booth.”

  “A booth would be great,” said Danny.

  “Then follow me, honey.” Romeo took Danny by the hand and began to lead them across the glowing floor. Romeo turned to Candy, “Let me know where you picked him up so I can get me one just like it, sister. Unless you want to loan him to me for about an hour.”

  Candy and Danny exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  “Just kidding, sweetie!” said Romeo. “I know which side my bread is buttered on. He’s all yours.”

  Romeo led them to a booth.

  “How often do the lights change?” asked Danny.

  As if on cue, each of the thirty-six squares faded and became a different color. It was a soothing effect.

  “Each combination lasts for one minute,” said Romeo. He placed two menus on the table and quickly and efficiently gathered up the two extra place settings and water and wine glasses, hooking the stemware expertly between his silver and black fingers.

  “There’s more than one hundred octillion combinations,” Romeo continued. “It will never repeat. It’s a symbol for the endless possibilities of life and love. Not that we’d be around to see it if it did repeat. But then, who’d want to live that long? Not me, sister!” Romeo stepped dramatically to the side and swept one arm toward the booth, beckoning Danny and Candy to sit. “Besides, I think they’re going to demolish this place, and me right along with it I suspect. That’ll be a tough day at the office.”

  Candy slid sideways onto the bench seat and Danny sat beside her.

  “It’s just a rumor at this point, of course. Well, you two are just cuter than the dickens. And I don’t even know what that means. Drinks?”

  “What do you recommend?” asked Danny.

  “I’d like to recommend you follow me into the back for a private tour of my kitchen but your belle amour here would no doubt kick my robot heinie from here to the moon. So how about a cold beer, sailor?”

  “A beer sounds . . . fine.”

  “And something for the misses?” asked Romeo.

  “A beer for me, too.”

  “A girl who drinks. I love it. Back in a flash, kids.” Romeo headed for the bar.

  Danny scanned the restaurant. “Part science and mathematics, part artistic expression. I like it.”

  “This place is famous for its–”

  “Waiters?”

  “No. Well, maybe. I was going to say vegetarian fish and chips.”

  “How can fish be vegetarian?”

  “I don’t know. It just is.”

  Romeo returned carrying a tray with two bottles of beer and two glasses. He deftly flicked two coasters onto the table, set a tall beer tumbler on each, and then inserted a bottle of beer into each glass, with the beer bottle inverted and standing upright. Each bottle slowly emptied, filling the glass. When a rich, foamy head threatened to crest the lip and spill over, Romeo carefully removed each empty bottle and placed it once more on his tray, leaving two perfectly-poured glasses of beer.

  Candy and Danny stared at the glasses in amazement.

  “No applause. Just throw money. It’s an old trick I learned years ago at bartending college. Would you kids like to hear the specials? Unless you already know what you want. And I’ll bet you do.” Romeo winked a coquettish holographic eye at them.

  “I hear the fish and chips is good,” said Danny.

  “It’s heavenly, honey. Two of those?”

  “Please.”

  “You got it.” Romeo marched away.

  “He doesn’t mess around,” said Danny.

  “I heard that!” Romeo called from the bar. “But it’s not true. Just kidding. But not really.”

  Danny picked up his beer. “A toast.”

  Candy raised her beer as well.

  “To Candy. The most beautiful woman in the room.”

  Candy surveyed the empty restaurant. “I’m the only woman in the room.”

  “Details.”

  “Smart ass.”

  They drank.

  “So,” said Danny, “do you want to talk about Barney?”

  “What’s to talk about? He’s dead.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “He shot himself.”

  “With what?”

  “Gun.”

  “Didn’t they relieve him of his weapon when they brought him to you?”

  “He
had a backup weapon hidden in a compartment on his leg. He said that every good cop carries a backup piece.”

  “Where did he shoot himself? It’s not easy to disable a robocop.”

  “Under the chin. Blew his positronic brains out. They’re all over my ceiling. Susannah said she would have new ceiling tiles installed today. It won’t do to have a bullet hole and the rainbow spatter of positrons on the ceiling while clients are sitting in the waiting room. Any halfway intelligent robot built in the past eight years will take one look at that ceiling and have a melt-down right on the spot. My malpractice insurance is going to go through the roof. No pun intended.”

  “What happened to the body?”

  “LAPD Roboforensics came and got him in their van.”

  “Is the LAPD going to seek damages?”

  “Damages against me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The Captain said he wasn’t. But once the departmental lawyers and the insurance company get involved, that will probably change.”

  “Don’t you have any protection? A contract or something?”

  “Sure. Every owner signs a contract when they bring their robot to me. This is hardly an exact science. There’s a certain amount of finesse to it, as there is with any mental health profession. I like to think I’m pretty good at it. At least I thought so before Barney killed himself.” Candy looked at the pink and green and blue smears still visible on her hands. She put her hands in her lap.

  “Of course you’re good at it. The LAPD wouldn’t be bringing you fruit-loop robocops if you didn’t have a certain professional credibility, a reputation.”

  “Let’s just hope that reputation will account for something when they call me downtown to give a deposition on the deactivation of their robot. A very expensive robot, which the taxpayers paid for, by the way.”

  Romeo approached the table carrying two platters. He set one platter before Candy. “Vegetarian fish and chips for the lady.” And the second before Danny. “And the same for the hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin’ love sitting beside her. Delicious. And the fish and chips is good, too. You kids holler if you need me and I’ll be back to check on you in a few.” Romeo marched away once more.