Book Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassasor 13)

by E. M. Foner

  “Very good, Marilla,” Flower said. “I’m glad to see that some of you have done your homework. It never ceases to amaze me how certain species believe that the ability to ask questions is a replacement for storing up knowledge.”

  The tube capsule came to a halt, and Samuel, who thanks to living on the core deck of Union Station was sensitive to weight changes, immediately pegged the sensation of gravity to greater than Earth normal. “Is this really the best candidate for a residential deck you have?” he inquired. “I feel a bit heavy.”

  “This is the reservoir deck,” the AI answered as the capsule door slid open. “I start all of my tours here. Try not to fall in the water as I have a limited number of maintenance bots available and I may not be able to get one to you in time.”

  Samuel and Vivian exchanged looks over Flower’s asking for a destination and then ignoring it. They followed the other students out onto what appeared to be an endless network of catwalks extending along the ship’s length, with regular loops disappearing out of sight around the circumference.

  “I float even if I don’t bother swimming,” Lizant said, eyeing the water as if she were tempted to jump right in.

  “Answer me this riddle,” Flower challenged the student, her voice sounding a bit tinny as it was being broadcast over small speakers embedded in the catwalk supports. “What kind of Frunge doesn’t float?”

  “I don’t know,” Lizant replied.

  “The kind that get dragged under and eaten by a Yrimp,” Flower cackled, and on cue, a giant fish that bore some resemblance to a great white shark broached the surface before crashing back, drenching the shocked students. “Now who asked the intelligent question about weapons scarring?”

  “Me,” the Verlock replied. “Wrylenth.”

  “Excellent,” the ship replied. “I don’t have the full internal imaging capabilities you are no doubt used to from living on a Stryx station, but through the process of elimination, I now have you all sorted out by your thermal signatures. Do you understand why I am a hard target for energy weapons, Wrylenth?”

  “Reservoir in contact with outer hull,” the Verlock replied. “Tremendous heatsink.”

  “Precisely. Now back into the lift tube and ladies hold onto your skirts because I’ll be running the blow dry cycle.”

  Not having much choice in the matter, the committee returned to the lift tube, and sure enough, they were blasted with hot air while the lighting shifted into the infrared. It wasn’t enough to dry them off completely before the capsule stopped again, but at least they weren’t dripping on the deck.

  “You asked to see the first residential deck that will be accepting humans,” the AI continued as the students moved out into the bright lights of an ag deck. “Obviously, this isn’t it, but as my creators are fond of saying, you have to eat.”

  “We do say that,” Grude confirmed.

  “This deck was once dedicated to larvae farming so the soil is excellent, but I’ve made it available for various alien crops during my recent service. Stryx Wylx has provided me with a wide variety of human-compatible plantings from a world that she terraformed, and within six months, I estimate that I will be able to provide a healthy vegetarian diet for approximately two hundred thousand humans. If your government, or whatever you call it, selects individuals who are capable of farming, I will provide additional space for both crops and domestic livestock, but I’m not interested in caring for alien animals myself. Any questions?”

  “Do you have a full complement of maintenance bots, or did your former crew, uh, borrow them?” Samuel asked.

  “I still have every bot I was commissioned with, though with all the replacement parts they go through, I wouldn’t call any of them original,” Flower replied. “But colony ships are designed with the understanding that the colonists will do most of the work. Did you think that Dollnicks would just dream away their lives in stasis like a bunch of lazy Sharfs on their way to a new world? Since the misunderstanding I’ve had to let the majority of my ag decks lie fallow. I’ve also imported some inferior bots to help with the routine work over the years, but I expect all of my long-term visitors to chip in and contribute to ship maintenance. I’m sure that Stryx Jeeves has explained all of this.”

  “Uh, actually,” Vivian began, but the lift tube capsule doors began opening and closing impatiently, as if demanding that the students return. “Are we finally going to see the residential deck?”

  “It’s on my list,” Flower said. “If there’s time.”

  Six

  “Could Chance be any more beautiful?” Dorothy demanded of her mother, as if she had designed the artificial person herself.

  “Her outfit is lovely,” Kelly agreed, knowing that her daughter had created the look especially for her friend. “And Thomas is looking very debonair himself. I didn’t realize they were so close in height.”

  “It’s our new shoes, she has the heels extended near the maximum. Well, they can actually go higher, but if your toes can’t reach the floor they don’t count as shoes anymore. I checked.”

  “Checked with who?”

  “The Galactic Organization of Shoe Engineers and Designers. It’s really a front for the major Vergallian fashion houses but I’m thinking of joining anyway. They have a really cool convention.”

  “Speaking of Vergallians, the people here are nearly as beautiful as the crowd at Ambassador Abeva’s farewell party,” Kelly observed. “They could all be models.”

  “They’re artificial people, Mom. You still can’t tell?”

  “Everybody?”

  “Well, Lynx and Woojin are over on the other side of the room, but if you’re going to insist on wearing low heels all the time you can’t expect to know what’s going on in a crowd. I assume you can see Chastity and Walter on the platform.”

  At just that moment, the managing editor of the Galactic Free Press stepped to the small book stand and cleared his throat. The guests packed into one of the more intimate meeting rooms at the Empire Convention Center fell silent, and the only sound was the clinking of glasses as the bartender raced to catch up with orders for straight grain alcohol.

  “I’d like to welcome you all to the Artificial People For Humans book launch. Most of you know our authors either through their work for EarthCent Intelligence or their presence on the tango scene, not to mention Chance’s moonlighting as a model for SBJ Fashions. I want you to know that the rumors are all true and she really does work for clothes.”

  Chance beamed and pointed at Dorothy, and the guests all chuckled and glanced over at the young fashion designer.

  “In addition, Thomas and Chance have long served as beta testers for Quick-U, one of the few Earth technology companies to successfully break into alien markets, most recently with their ‘Vicarious’ line of recreational products for artificial people of different species.”

  “What’s he talking about, Libby?” Kelly subvoced as Walter launched into a biographical sketch of his authors. “I didn’t know Quick-U had enhancements for artificial people who aren’t human-derived.”

  “They released the product just two cycles ago but it’s already caught on like wildfire. Some of the orbitals with large populations of artificial people have even taken to throwing ‘Human’ parties where the guests try to catch each other out on behavioral errors. It’s a bit like our sentience test, but it focuses on personality and mannerisms.”

  “They do this for fun?”

  “Think of it as a costume party, but they wear their costumes on the inside.”

  “…and I know you’re all waiting to get your books signed by the authors, but first, Thomas and Chance will each read one of their favorite selections,” Walter concluded. “Chance?”

  The elegantly dressed artificial person took Walter’s place at the bookstand to a rousing round of applause, which dissolved into laughter as she extracted a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with no lenses from her small handbag and let them slide down to the tip of her nose. Then she opened
the book to a pink bookmark and began to read.

  “When I found myself unable to make the first payment on my body mortgage after spending the money on a hat that cried out to me from the millinery shop, I fled the tunnel network by stowing away on a Horten transport bound for the edges of civilized space. Business has never been my strong suit,”—here she looked up at the audience over the glasses while everyone shared a good laugh—“and I thought that the law of supply and demand dictated that if I went somewhere where there were no artificial humans, I would maximize my value on the market.”

  “That’s my Chance,” Thomas interjected fondly.

  “Unfortunately, it turned out that everywhere I traveled, a supply of one outstripped the demand by at least that many, and I found myself moving from place to place, trying to keep one step ahead of the repo man.”

  “The imaginary repo man,” Libby insisted over Kelly’s implant.

  “Finally I ended up at Hankel, a world that doesn’t recognize the sentience of any non-biologicals. They were doing a sweep when I arrived, searching for artificials they could sell to pirates, who at best, try to ransom us back to our creators or the Stryx. I put every last centee I had into a ticket for the next departing ship without checking the destination. I arrived at the Farling orbital station with a tapped-out primary and a dying back-up cell. After a few weeks of cruising the bars and doing whatever it took to get alcohol for my micro-turbine, I was ready to sign indenture papers for the first ship that would take me. Then I was recruited by Thomas and Lynx to do a drug buy for EarthCent Intelligence, and it was like being born all over again.”

  She closed the book and waved at Lynx, who had Em in a baby sling worn across her body. The audience all applauded, and Kelly could have sworn she saw a number of the females wiping artificial tears from their eyes. Then Thomas took Chance’s place and opened the book to a blue bookmark.

  “I have so many special memories of my years on Union Station, but I’ll always treasure the time I danced with our ambassador at—”

  “You promised you’d never tell!” Kelly blurted out.

  “—at the ball thrown for her by Dring,” Thomas continued, as if the interruption had never taken place.

  The ambassador clapped her hand over her mouth and tried to ignore the fact that her daughter was staring at her suspiciously.

  “The ambassador’s husband was hors-de-combat with an old war injury, and after Mrs. McAllister finished the first dance, Chance informed me that she had always wanted to cut the rug with a Maker, and I found myself switching partners with Dring. As I steered the ambassador safely around the dance floor among some of the most important dignitaries in the galaxy, I couldn’t help thinking about the less fortunate AI held in servitude by some of the species not part of our enlightened tunnel network. In memory of that dance, I’ll be donating my share of the royalties to the Sentience Fund. Thank you, Ambassador.”

  Kelly felt herself blushing for the first time in years as the collected artificial people all turned to look at her and applaud. There was some jostling in the crowded room as Thomas and Walter brought out a table while Chastity and Chance fetched a pair of folding chairs. Then the two artificial people seated themselves behind the table and the book signing began in earnest, with Walter and Chastity selling copies of Artificial People For Humans to the guests in the serpentine queue that formed as if by magic.

  “That was very emotional,” Kelly said to Dorothy as they found places at the back of the line.

  “Especially the part where you interrupted Thomas to try to keep him from saying something,” the girl responded, but seeing her mother clamp her lips shut, she let the subject drop for the time being. “I just had an idea to bounce off of Shaina and Brinda. I bet book readings would be a good way to market clothes to a different audience. You know, like old people.”

  “Mature people,” Kelly said.

  “Don’t book signings make you hungry?” a well-dressed woman asked the two humans.

  “It does seem like a long line,” the ambassador acknowledged.

  “Why not pop out with me to the Empire Convention Center’s famous food court? There’s something for every species and every taste, including a new fruit bar.”

  “Wait a second. You’re an advertisement, aren’t you?”

  The hologram vanished.

  “Libby! Was that you trying to sell me stuff?”

  “It’s one of my services,” the station librarian replied in the ambassador’s ear. “The Dollnick managing the convention center has been very enthusiastic about the early results. Sales in the food court have risen more than eleven percent during small events.”

  “I wish you would make the holograms a little less realistic so I wouldn’t feel foolish for talking to them,” Kelly complained. “Besides, Chastity is always telling me that you charge an arm and a leg for specialized services. How can the convention center afford interactive holographic ads to generate business for fast food joints?”

  “Jeeves talked me into cost-per-purchase pricing during the experimental phase. I don’t suppose we could have gathered much useful data if I had gone with my usual rates and nobody signed up for the service.”

  “Don’t you feel guilty about using your, uh, well, your powers to sell people stuff?”

  “As opposed to the advertising I run on the corridor panels around the clock?” Libby inquired.

  “But this is different. It’s more persuasive.”

  “Would you be angry if I used your description to promote the service to potential advertisers?”

  “Yes! Dorothy, what do you think about…Dorothy?”

  “She headed down to the food court to grab a bite. I guess she didn’t want to bother you while you were staring at the ceiling and carrying on a subvoced conversation,” the station librarian informed the ambassador.

  “Dorothy never eats fast food anymore. She’s too worried about fitting into—” Kelly’s eyes lit up and she asked, “So how long has it been?”

  “How long has what been?”

  “How long has Dorothy been pregnant?” Kelly demanded, forgetting to subvoc.

  “Really, Ambassador,” Libby said indignantly. “You know that I can’t answer questions like that, and it would be a mistake for you to infer anything from my refusal.”

  “Just look at her countdown watch,” Lynx advised.

  Kelly turned to see that Woojin and Lynx had joined her at the end of the line.

  “She doesn’t have a countdown watch.”

  “Then she’s not pregnant,” Lynx said with finality. “Everybody wears them now.”

  “I thought the Farling doctor only gave them to patients.”

  “And everybody is his patient, at least, everybody with a half a brain. You even let him fix your eyes.”

  Kelly scowled, remembering the unending stream of criticisms the beetle had heaped on EarthCent while he had her trapped on the table for the surgery. Granted, the whole procedure had only taken a minute or two, but the Farling could rub out words very rapidly on his speaking limbs.

  “Sounds like somebody has caught the grandchild bug,” Woojin said. “Have you talked to Dorothy about it?”

  “Most days,” Kelly admitted. “Joe says that I’d be better off saying nothing since Dorothy has always done the opposite of whatever I tell her, but I can’t help it.”

  “How does Kevin feel about it?” Lynx asked. “Last time I checked, it takes two to tango.”

  “He’s on my side,” the ambassador replied, and then added in an unnaturally loud voice to alert the others to her daughter’s return, “Dorothy. I was wondering where you went.”

  “I just ran out to the food court to see the new fruit bar that the hologram told us about. I got the small variety basket. Help yourselves.”

  “Thank you,” Woojin said, accepting a large apple and beginning to shine it on his pants leg. “There’s a ripe banana in there if you want to give Em a bite.”

  Lynx selected the
banana, carefully peeled it in front of the baby’s wide open eyes, and took a nibble to make sure it was soft enough. Then she broke off a small piece and offered it to Em, who said, “Nana,” before taking it in her fist and transferring the bits that didn’t squeeze out between her pudgy fingers into her mouth.

  “Is this all native?” Kelly asked. The peach and the pear looked tempting, but she was afraid they would drip on her dress and she didn’t have a napkin, so she settled for an apple as well.

  “The place is called ‘Union Station Fruits,’ so I guess it’s all from an ag deck, though I didn’t ask,” Dorothy replied. “Hey, the line is really moving along.”

  “There’s an after party in the music club just down the corridor where Thomas and Chance host a regular tango club,” Lynx explained. “Chastity told me they only rented this room for an hour. I asked why they didn’t do the whole thing in the bar, but she said they wanted too much to close it to walk-in drinkers.”

  “How many?” Walter asked brusquely, approaching the group of friends. “You won’t get another chance at a forty percent discount.”

  “We’ll take ten,” Lynx said. “Woojin will carry them. Are you accepting cash?”

  “Libby’s handling the billing for us. My goal is to not have to bring any books back to the office.”

  “How many do you have left?” Dorothy asked.

  “Two,” the editor said expectantly.

  “I guess we’ll take one each then,” Kelly said. “My charge, Libby,” she added. “Dorothy paid for the fruit.”

  “Actually, Jeeves paid for the fruit,” her daughter said. “I put it on my SBJ Fashions programmable cred since Chance is wearing our clothes and all. Hey, Chastity. Nice event.”

  “Thank you, we plan to do more of them. Are you out, Walter?”

  “Yup. I’ll take off now and write it up for the paper if you guys can sort out the furniture and the empty boxes. I’ll get the list posted too.”