“I was thinking of that myself,” the robot admitted.
“Good. But I’ll make a suggestion: I’ll teach you how to be a salesman. I used to be one myself; besides I’m an Earthman, and innately shrewd. When I’m through with you, you move on to the next planet—I think your makers will forgive you if you make an extra stop—and sell out all your stock.”
“It sounds wonderful,” XL-ad41 said.
“One string is attached. In return for the education I’ll give you, you’re to supply me with such things as I need to live comfortably here on a permanent basis. Cigars, magneboots, short-range transmitters, depilator, etc. I’m sure your manufacturers will think it’s a fair exchange, my profit-making shrewdness for your magneboots. Oh, and I’ll need one of those force-field generators too—just in case the Company shows up and tries to make trouble.”
The robot glowed happily. “I’m sure an exchange can be arranged. I believe this now makes us partners.”
“It does indeed,” Wingert said. “As your first lesson, let me show you an ancient Terran custom that a good salesman ought to know.” He gripped the robot’s cold metal hand firmly in his own. “Shake, pardner!”
***
Robert Silverberg has been a professional science-fiction writer since 1955. He has won many Hugo and Nebula awards and among his best-known books are Lord Valentine’s Castle, Dying Inside, and Nightwings. In 2004 he was named a Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America.
The Door-to-Door Salesthing from Planet X
Josh Vogt
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Dearie. I almost didn’t hear the doorbell and don’t get around too quickly these days. My, you’re a tall one, aren’t you? Such handsome tusks and tentacles.”
“Greetings, fellow fleshbeing! May we engage in profitable exchange?”
“Selling something, are you?”
“Assumption verified! Observe the collar about my neck.”
“I’m going deaf, not blind. But I don’t have any pets and never really understood collars as a fashion statement.”
“It is not for sale. It is my Motivational Unit. If I fail to conduct at least one profitable exchange each hour, it will detonate, terminating my existence. The current hour ends in a few minutes, and I have not yet acquired profit.”
“That seems a little extreme. How is your kind even still around?”
“We breed rapidly. Aggressive sales quotas remedy overpopulation. Now I bring you wonders and delights from beyond belief!”
“Where is that, exactly?”
“Where is what?”
“Belief. Is that one of the planets they just named? There’s so many these days, it’s hard to keep up. Phoborious, Eden XI, Orb of Eternal Darkness. I hear they even named a planet after the pope. What’s yours called, dear?”
“My homeworld is designated Planet X.”
“You must’ve been discovered when they were in that alphabetical phase. Poor dear. Not very imaginative.”
“If you desire imagination, feast your bilaterally symmetrical eyes upon this!”
“A suitcase?”
“You behold an interdimensional container bearing a pocket space that is, astoundingly, of greater internal than external proportions!”
“You’re saying it’s bigger on the inside?”
“Affirmative.”
“Isn’t that keen. Is the suitcase for sale?”
“It is merely the method by which I transport the goods I present for your purchase. Behold!”
“Yes, you said that already.”
“One of these pills per day will renew your youthful physique to that of twenty solar orbits!”
“That’s very nice, but I think if God wanted us to go around more than once, He’d have made us with rewind buttons installed.”
“Then revel in replacement memory modules! Recall only a full and happy lifetime. No guilt. No regrets. No sadness.”
“No regrets here to speak of, Dearie. And a life that’s only happy would be a boring one, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps you will delight in a post-mortem mental upload unit. Enjoy a personal, virtual heaven, programmed to fulfill your every whim.”
“Been a faithful Baptist since I before I could walk, so Heaven’s already in my travel plans. And eternity in a computer? Pshaw to that paradise.”
“I detect a notable lack of enthusiasm for such fine wares.”
“Sorry to be picky, but there’s nothing here I take a shine to.”
“We offer flexible installment payment plans. We accept cash, credit, or plagons.”
“Are plagons the currency unit on Planet X?”
“They are the unborn young of the species with which we are at interplanetary war.”
“Oh. Pretty sure I don’t have any of those in my purse.”
“Sadness abounds. Now I make an offer that you may not refuse!”
“Don’t you mean ‘cannot’?”
“The choice of vocabulary was intentional, as my collar has begun to tingle. Beho—”
“Yes, yes. Behold. My tea is getting cold and my favorite show is starting on the holotube. Can we hurry this up?”
“Surely your days are empty as loved ones depart the physical plane. Fill this void with cloned companions designed to fulfill your every fleshy desire and—”
“Hold it right there. If you’re suggesting I clone my late husband and friends for a senior citizen orgy, I’m giving your tentacles a good whack with my cane.”
“It is one of our more popular offers.”
“Answer’s still no.”
“But you cannot—”
“Try to boss me around, Dearie, and you’ll get a knock from my cane and a bite. My dentures have automatic laser-targeting.”
“Longevity! Carnal companionship! Wealth! Relative beauty according to species morphic bias! Your kind desires these things at any price!”
“You’re thirty years too late for me. Might have better luck with Ned at the end of the block.”
“My remaining time allotment will expire before I reach the end of the block. As will I.”
“I’m sorry. How about I donate a few dollars, since you’ve been trying so hard?”
“Negative! I must provide goods in exchange. Is there nothing you require?”
“Hm. Now that I think about it…”
“Tell me so I may fulfill this request with all haste!”
“New kitchen knives.”
“…kitchen knives?”
“Yes, the ones that never dull? Not that I’ll use them for long, but I’m down to one bent butter knife in my silverware drawer.”
“I… am not in possession of kitchen knives.”
“Shame. I’d be willing to pay handsomely for a nice sharp set of—goodness gracious! Whatever are you doing?”
“The pain! Quite agonizing!”
“You just tore out your own tusks!”
“Limited edition. Never need sharpening. Notice the fine engraving denoting my status as top salesbeing last quarter.”
“Persistent, aren’t you? How much?”
“One-time exclusive offer of three hundred million plagons.”
“Oh my. What’s that with the going exchange rate?”
“Twenty human dollars.”
“All right. Come inside while I get my purse. Your… um… collar won’t go off now, will it?”
“It has detected our profitable accord. My cohesion continues for another hour.”
“Bit of a stressful line of work, isn’t it, Dearie?”
“It is a living.”
***
A full-time freelance writer and editor, Josh Vogt works with a variety of RPG developers and publishers and has sold fiction to Paizo’s Pathfinder Tales, Grey Matter Press, the UFO2 & UFO3 anthologies, Intergalactic Medicine Show, and Shimmer, among others. His upcoming debut fantasy novel is also with Paizo’s Pathfinder Tales. You can find him at JRVogt.com or @JRVogt. He is made out of meat.
&nb
sp; Picture Perfect
Matt Mikalatos
Richard the unfriendly ghost woke me. I blinked twice. The sun was still up, I could sense it on the other side of the drapes. “Are you trying to murder me again?” I asked.
Richard cackled. “Worse! Much worse, Isaac.”
I frowned. I didn’t bother to ask what was worse than murder. As a vampire I had doled out plenty of worse-than-murder moments, not the least of which was feeding Richard to one of the elder gods of terror. That had bought me almost two months of Richard-free bliss. But ghosts are surprisingly resilient.
A steady, insistent knocking came from the front room. I threw off my comforter and padded to the door. I leaned against it. “Who’s there?”
“Sam.”
“Sam who?”
“Sam-one open the door, it’s freezing out here!”
I muttered a series of imprecations. “I won’t open this door unless you tell me who you are.”
A lighthearted chuckle came through the door. “Come now, it won’t be so bad. Your father already called and explained your situation. Are you dressed?”
My father had died over a hundred years ago. He had been the famous vampire hunter, Abraham Van Helsing. I’d been turned into a vampire during a botched father-son hunting trip. I glanced at the clock on Mrs. Holmes’s mantel. “It’s eight in the morning.”
Richard floated past me and undid the locks. “Beware the sunlight,” he said, and the stranger outside pushed the door open.
Even indirect sunlight burned. I quickly stepped back into the shadowed living room behind me. Standing on the boarding room porch was a painfully thin man with silver spectacles and a spectacular comb over.
“Hey there sunshine,” he said, grinning. I hated him immediately.
“I take it you are Sam,” I said.
“That was just for the knock-knock joke. It isn’t freezing out, either. It’s a perfectly lovely day.”
Richard was floating on the far side of the door, laughing uproariously. The stranger couldn’t see him, and appeared not to notice the laughter. Perhaps he thought it was in response to his horrible joke.
“State your name and business,” I said.
He laughed. “Why, the state is my business. I got a call from your father.”
“I doubt it. My father passed away years ago.”
The man snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, the line did go dead at the end of the call.” He looked at me for a moment. “Get it? The line was dead?”
I rubbed my face and hoped that Richard had not somehow found a minor pun demon to torment me. “Please. In the name of all that is holy. Tell me why you are here or begone.”
“I’m here because I heard you’ve got no class.”
I sighed and glared at Richard before swinging the door shut. “Is this the best you can do?”
“Trust me,” Richard said. “It gets much better.” He opened the door again.
The man pulled out a badge. “My name is Philip Voss. I’m a truant officer.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes! Isaac Van Helsing,” he said, pulling a small clipboard out of thin air, “You’ve been cutting. And if you miss school again, you’re headed to jail.”
“But I’m a vampire.”
“Well, that sucks.”
I grunted. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times.”
Officer Voss wrote a note on his clipboard. “I’ll tell the teachers to cover their windows. High school is a dark time for many.”
“I am 139 years old.”
“You must be a senior, then.” He looked at me with a practiced eye. “Besides, I’d guess you’re eighteen.”
“Yes, I was eighteen when I turned into a vampire, but that was one hundred and twenty years ago.”
Richard said, “A hundred and twenty-one years ago. A basic math course could only help him, Officer.”
“Nevertheless. I am well past the age of conscripted schooling.”
“No problem,” Officer Voss said, writing furiously. “Just give me a peek at your birth certificate and I’ll be on the way.”
My jaw fell open. “What?”
“You have to prove your age.”
“I don’t have a birth certificate.”
He shrugged. “So you go to school.”
“But I died when I became a vampire.”
“You have a death certificate?”
“No.”
Voss clucked his tongue. “Probably just as well. Having a dead body in the home is a biohazard. You’d get fined.”
“You’re saying I have to go to school.”
Voss laughed. “You might not be educated, but you’re smart enough. I’ll write that down. Smart. Enough.”
“Surely there’s another way.”
“You got your GED?” He saw the look on my face and shook his head, writing. “See you tomorrow at eight thirty.”
I tried one last ditch effort. “What if I bite the other students?”
He waved without turning back. “The principal will deal with you.”
###
Mother Holmes, the old woman who ran my boarding house, was thrilled at the prospect of sending me to school. She got me new “schooling clothes” as she called them: shiny black shoes, grey shorts, a white collared shirt and a red bowtie. I tried to refuse, but once Mother Holmes decided something one had best go along. Which is why I also carried the lunch she had packed for me in a Scooby Doo lunch box, despite my inability to eat food and my antipathy toward mystery-solving cartoon dogs. Of course, I had to carry a large umbrella to keep the sun off. But the indirect light still hurt my skin, and I was glad that it was a rainy day.
In the dim light, Richard was more visible, and as we moved through the puddled parking lot he mocked me for going to school. Determined not to let him think he had found yet another way to harass and annoy me, I told him I was looking forward to the day.
“To the end of the day you mean?” he asked.
“No. To making new friends, learning new things. It’s a wonderful institution, school. To be surrounded by these teens, full of life and the light of learning.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “It has been a long time since you were with high schoolers.”
A red sports car came screeching through the parking lot, a wave of water rising up above my head and dousing me completely. A young woman leapt out of the car. Her hair was bleached blonde with light blue streaks, and she wore tight-fitting jeans and a tank top with a strange diaphanous shirt over the top. Her shoes were transparent, and bright orange socks shone through them. She looked like a shopping mall had exploded onto her.
She snatched some books from the front of her car and came over to me. She looked me up and down and then took hold of my umbrella, lifting it over her head. “Hey, sorry about the tidal wave,” she said. “Mind if I take this umbrella? You won’t need it now that you’re soaked.
I bared my fangs at her. “As it so happens, I need it to keep the sun off.”
She smacked some gum in her mouth and looked me over again. “Geez, pal, could you get any whiter?”
I looked at my pale skin. “I doubt it.”
“Maybe if you were a mime,” Richard suggested.
“Hey, a ghost,” she said.
“You can see me?” Richard asked.
“Shh,” she said. “Ghosts are supposed to say ‘oooooo’ and that’s it. So don’t talk. Creeps me out.”
I smiled. “What is your name, young lady?”
She slapped me on the shoulder. “You’re a weird guy. Looks like your grandma dressed you, but I like you. I’m Alice.”
“Isaac,” I said, and held out my hand.
She laughed and slapped my palm. “Seriously, you look like a yodeling vampire from Sound of Music.”
I took the umbrella back from her, though I was careful to leave room for her to stay out of the rain. “I have not seen the film.”
She laughed so hard she snorted. “I have not see
n the film.”
Richard cackled and said, “All of the children are going to mock you.”
Alice abruptly stopped laughing and poked a finger at the transparent thorn in my side. “Shut up, ghost. That sounds suspiciously like bullying and there is zero tolerance here, you transparent excuse for a half human. Oooooo.”
To my considerable surprise, Richard looked chastened. I studied the girl more closely, making sure she wasn’t some sort of violent anti-supernatural activist.
“Honestly,” I said, “How can you see Richard? I’ve always envied those who can’t.”
She shrugged. “I’m a weredolphin.”
“I have never heard of such a thing.”
“That’s because I made it up, silly. I don’t know why, but I see dead people. No biggie.” A clanging bell rang just as we stepped out of the parking lot and onto the school grounds.
Alice gathered her books to her chest. “C’mon, Isaac, we’re going to be late.” A milling crowd of students drifted toward their classrooms.
A voice echoed to us across the small square between classrooms. I turned to see the truant officer, Voss, headed toward us, wearing a yellow slicker. Alice made a sound of disgust. “Not that guy. I gotta bounce, Isaac.” Then she bounced, hopping with both feet toward her classroom. I watched her in perplexed wonder. “See you at lunch,” she called back. “Meet me at the library!”
“Not the library,” I said. I had a bad experience with a British librarian in the late ‘90s. He had manipulated a clique of children into risking their lives to try to kill me. I left town and decided never to live somewhere with the word “Sunny” in the name. What sort of stupid vampire lives in a town with a name like that?
Voss glanced at my umbrella and said, “I see that you’re a bit under the weather.”
“It’s one thing to make puns constantly. It’s quite another to emphasize them when speaking.”
Voss’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Do you feel that I am pun-ishing you?”
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