Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  We left the pub and headed toward the guest billets. As we passed the general store I looked inside, but the woman behind the counter wasn't Joan. The dining hall was closing for a few hours of maintenance, but the small cafe at the end of the main hallway was open and I could smell the fresh-brewed coffee.

  Just inside the cafe's doorway I spotted Karen at a table by the back wall. She was reading a newspaper and apparently oblivious to the world around her, but when I ordered an Irish Creme coffee, she looked up.

  Her eyes met mine for a moment, then she tapped the chair across from hers with her newspaper. I nodded and paid for the coffee, then joined her.

  "Sorry,” she said as I held a chair for Steph, then sat down.

  "For what?"

  "For not minding my own damned business,” said Mills. “About you and Stephanie."

  I glanced at Steph, then asked Karen, “Would it matter if we were together?"

  Karen's eyes narrowed. “You mean you aren't?"

  "That wasn't the question. Would it matter? Should it matter?"

  Sighing, Karen said, “I'm sorry, but the very idea just bugs the hell out of me. I tried to think my way past it, but I can't."

  "Then you can rejoice, ma'am. We're just good friends, although Myra's probably also convinced otherwise by now."

  She seemed to search for truth as she looked at me, then at Steph. I shrugged and sipped my coffee, then got to my feet.

  "See you tomorrow,” I said. “Steph and I may have to visit with Linda in the morning, so expect a delay getting started."

  "Wait a minute,” said Mills. “Why would you try to convince Myra ... But not me?"

  "We didn't try to convince Myra,” said Steph. “She's drawn her own conclusion."

  "Yup,” I said. “She jumped right to it all on her own, just like you did."

  "But you won't tell her what you just told me?"

  Shrugging, I said, “We don't particularly care what Myra thinks."

  "Are you saying you care what I think?"

  I looked at Steph and smiled as I asked, “Do you care what Karen thinks?"

  Steph smiled back and said, “Not if it doesn't affect her training. Do you?"

  Lifting Steph's hand to my lips for a kiss, I said, “No, milady, not really."

  Turning back to Mills, I grinningly said, “Sorry. You were right after all, ma'am. We really are none of your business. Nobody else's, either. G'night."

  Mills remained seated and softly glaring as we left the table.

  In my room a few minutes later I discovered that there was nothing on TV that I wanted to see or hadn't seen. I brought up a screen pad and checked email, then visited a couple of writing newsgroups in which nobody was talking about anything having to do with writing.

  I used the room phone to call Selena and Toni and we chatted for a bit, then I added a couple of sketchy chapters to something I'd been working on and showered, shaved, and dropped into bed.

  My watch woke me at seven. I pressed the receive button to kill the beeping and wearily said, “You have reached Ed's fancy watch. At the tone, leave a message."

  "Cute,” said Linda. “I've scheduled our meeting for nine."

  "Wunnerful."

  "So enthusiastic so early in the morning. Some things never change."

  "Circumstance,” I said. “I seem to remember that my level of enthusiasm was somewhat ... um ... higher, you could say, when you woke me up in person."

  "That's a highly improper thing to say to a betrothed woman, Ed."

  "You could complain to the management, ma'am."

  "I am the management."

  "Damn. So you are. Am I fired?"

  "No, but you might have asked if Emory were here before you said that."

  I sighed. “If he was there you'd have called me an hour from now. I also remember how you used to pounce on me first thing in the morning. Fondly, I remember it."

  "One of these days you'll say something like that when he can hear it, Ed, and it will be a choice between him or you. Emory is for me what you couldn't be. When I turn mean and bark, he negotiates. You didn't, and it broke us up. Ed, I love him and I want him with me. If you care about me you'll be careful for me."

  What the hell. Linda was right. Her involvement with Emory had changed the rules of banter. Emory would react typically to such a statement. I might be fired, but he'd partly be the reason for it and it would always be something between them; something that needn't be.

  "Yeah, I hear you, Linda. Okay. I'll tone things down in the future."

  After a moment of silence, she said, “Thank you."

  "But since this may be the last time I get to say anything improper to you, let me say that you were a real goddess in bed, ma'am."

  "Ed, damn it..!"

  "And that first time on the flitter after all those years? Wow! You were wonderful, lady! I felt so USED afterward! It was great!"

  Another moment of silence passed, then she asked, “Are you finished?"

  "Yeah. I just had to get that out before the gate closed."

  "I'm sure you did. My office. Nine."

  "Roger that, Fearless Leader."

  She clicked off.

  "Steph,” I said.

  "Yes, Ed."

  "Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

  "If you want. If not, I won't."

  "Okay. Your choice."

  Primp, prep, and off to breakfast, gathering Mills and Myra enroute. When they asked where Steph was, I said she had something to do before the meeting.

  Myra asked, “What meeting?"

  "Linda wants to see Steph and me in her office this morning. You'll have to kill an hour or so, I think, before we head for the range."

  As she chose her eggs, Myra asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble?"

  "No."

  "Is it about me, then? I told you I'd behave."

  "No, Myra, it isn't about you."

  Wallace came into the dining hall, spotted me and headed right for me, but he didn't seem upset. He grabbed a tray and looked over the choices as he spoke.

  "I'd like a word before the meeting, if you don't mind."

  "Sure, Cap,” I said, “If you don't mind that Steph will record us."

  He chuckled. “No problem. Angela will be here in a moment. We'll include her."

  "Good enough.” Keying my implant, I said, “Steph, please join me for a pre-meeting-meeting with Wallace and Horn."

  Steph popped into existence beside me. Wallace almost dropped his tray.

  "Sorry,” said Steph.

  Looking at Myra, Wallace said, “I hope you don't mind too much, Myra, but we'll need some time to ourselves."

  She shrugged and said, “I'll survive.” Sighing as if deeply wounded, she added, “I've had to eat alone before, you know. One gets used to such hardships."

  We finished with the serving line and headed for a table as Myra headed for a table a few rows away. Angela came in, stopped to get a coffee, and then came to sit down next to Wallace.

  "Okay, we're all here,” I said. “Why are we all here?"

  Wallace asked, “Do you have one of those PFM's ready to show?"

  "No. It probably wouldn't take long to make one, though."

  "How long is not long?"

  When I looked at Steph, she said, “Ten minutes."

  Once Wallace recovered from her answer, he nodded.

  "Then please go ahead and make one for Lieutenant Horn. After the meeting she can demonstrate it for us while you train Dr. Mills."

  I looked at Steph, who said, “No problem.” Switching her gaze to Wallace, she said, “All of you will have one. Each unit will key itself to the user upon first application. I'll also provide instructions for their use in your datapads."

  Wallace simply looked at her in surprise for a moment, then said, “That would be excellent, Stephanie. Thank you very much."

  "Wallace,” I said, “There's something I'd like to mention up front in all this."

  He looked
at me as he said, “What would that be, Ed?"

  "Steph gets the credit for this idea. She should also get a royalty for every sale of a personal PFM unit when they go commercial."

  "I thought it was your idea."

  I shook my head and thumbed at Steph.

  "She gets the credit. And the money."

  Wallace looked at Steph, then back at me, and said, “Linda and I anticipated the commercial aspects last night. We also anticipated paying a royalty, but at the time we thought that you had originated this idea, Ed."

  "Is there a rule somewhere that says an AI can't have a good idea, Emory?"

  He shrugged and grinned as he said, “Well, not that I know of, and it certainly doesn't matter to me which of you thought of it."

  "That would also mean that it doesn't matter which of us you pay, right?"

  Wallace chuckled and said, “Not to me it doesn't, but Linda told me about your, um ... delays ... with the INS and NSA. We think you're up to something, Ed. We'll all talk to Linda before we decide who gets paid for this."

  He sipped his coffee before adding, “Someone will get paid, whether it's Stephanie or you. Rest assured of that."

  As he dug into his donut, I said, “Steph could use the assistance and support of 3rd World in making her citizenship happen. It wouldn't be a particularly difficult social or political matter for 3rd World, and everydamnbody is going to want one of those personal PFM's, so there's going to be a lot of money involved."

  He nodded. “You don't have to sell me, Ed. Stephanie has proven herself too often. It's up to the brass above me to decide to back her."

  "You'll recommend in her favor?"

  Nodding again, he said, “Hell, yes,” around a mouthful of donut, then swallowed and said, “Stephanie is a person. I didn't think so at first, but after a while it kind of dawned on me that she often acted independently, even when the two of you were working together. She may not be human, but she's definitely her own person."

  "The fact that she's with me doesn't flavor your opinion of her, Emory?"

  He sipped coffee to wash down the donut and continued, “Ed, our ... rivalry, for want of a better word ... concerning Linda got us off on the wrong foot. Feet. Whatever; you know what I mean. Anyway, I've taken the time to study up on you over the last few months. You've sometimes been unorthodox in your methods, but you've always seemed able to find a way to get the job done. That's something they sometimes don't put in records well, but Linda has fleshed out some of the events on file."

  Chuckling, Wallace lifted an index finger and said, “One in particular comes to mind; you impersonated an East German soldier well enough to join one of their motor pool units for four days, then used one of their trucks to take five people across the border in broad daylight. How the hell did you manage that?"

  "Only three days,” I corrected him. “The East Germans rotate troops just as we do. Karl Mueller—my Eastside contact on that particular run—had been watching the three local guard units for a couple of months, logging their routines. He and I waited around the bahnhof—that's a train station—for two days until a kid with brand new gear got off the train. Mueller bought the kid a coffee and offered him a ride to his new unit. While Mueller stalled the kid, I took a bus a couple of miles down the road and waited there. They picked me up like a hitchhiker, and as soon as I was in the back seat I put a chokehold on the kid. He woke up tied up in a hillside shack and I took his place as the unit's new guy around seven Wednesday evening."

  Sipping my coffee, I said, “He was supposed to have reported during duty hours. As expected, they put me on shit details and weekend duty. When another unit requisitioned a trash truck and a driver on Saturday—as we knew they would—the run fell to me by default. I detoured to pick up our clients and Karl and we bulled our way through the border fence between Eisfeld and Sonneberg just before dark."

  "What if they'd just tossed you in the brig?” asked Wallace.

  "Unlikely. They were pretty shorthanded at the time."

  Angela asked, “What happened to the kid? Do you know?"

  Wallace gave her one of those 'who cares?' looks as I said, “I left a note in his locker telling where he was. A truck he'd supposedly signed out crashed the border with seven people in it that Saturday afternoon. I figured they'd go through his stuff, find the note, and pick him up pretty quickly."

  "Seven people?” asked Wallace. “Was it a family?"

  "Yup. Five of them, two of us.They were an East German bureaucrat, his wife, and their three kids. Karl herded them aboard, then we crashed the fence and followed farm roads about five klicks into West Germany, where we turned the truck over to the ‘crat. I changed clothes and buried the guard uniform in a grove of trees by the road, then we just waited. The outfit sent a car for us just after dark. The family probably wound up in deep cover somewhere."

  After a moment, Wallace muttered, “Well, damn."

  "I've found them,” said Steph. “Ulrich and Wilma Busser. The family was relocated to Chain Bridge, Virginia."

  "Figures,” I said. “That's almost within spitting distance of the CIA's home office."

  After breakfast I told Mills and Myra to stand by until Linda turned us loose, then Angela, Wallace, Steph, and I trooped down the hall to Linda's office. Linda asked her secretary to take a break until she was called to return, then she told us all to find someplace to sit and returned to her desk.

  She sat down, then said, “Good morning, all, and thanks for coming. Especially you, Angela. I know you haven't been to bed yet."

  Angela smiled and said, “I'm okay, ma'am."

  Linda turned to me. “Ed, how about telling us what you have in mind?"

  With a nodding shrug, I said, “Stick-on PFM's programmed for specific functions and wearer-only voice commands. Royalty payments to Steph and 3rd World's help in getting her citizenship squared away. That's about it."

  With a roll of her eyes, Linda said, “Ordinarily I appreciate brevity, but could you be more specific? About the functions, for instance?"

  I turned to Steph. She stood up to speak.

  "The PFM's could provide personal protective fields, light-bending fields, stun fields, and, of course, such devices as parasails and hang gliders. A diver could use a protective field instead of a wet suit. Individuals could use their personal fields instead of raincoats and other inclement-weather clothing. Chemical, biological, and radiological laboratory personnel would find them particularly useful. Other uses would appear, as well, I'm sure."

  There was silence in the room for a moment, then Wallace asked, “To do all that ... Are we talking about something the size of a backpack, here?"

  "No,” said Steph. “The PFM's are only a few inches long and wide. I speculate that they will become almost as commonly worn as wristwatches, so other styling parameters may be required, but three units of my initial design will arrive in moments."

  Linda asked, “You've already developed them?"

  "Yes,” said Steph. “I've prepared a few for demonstration."

  Linda's office doors opened seemingly by themselves and three small objects flashed into the room in tight formation, then the doors closed as Steph plucked one of the objects from the air and held it out to Linda.

  It was an ovoid shape, flat on one side and rounded on the other and slightly wider at one end, as if someone had sliced an elongated egg down the middle. Its surface gleamed like stainless steel.

  Wonderingly taking the device from Steph, Linda asked, “Uh, what do I do with it, Stephanie?"

  "Place it against your body where you wish to wear it and say 'PFM attach'. To remove it, you would say 'PFM detach'. You are the first person to hold the device, so it will hereafter respond only to your voice unless reprogrammed."

  She then handed one of the devices to Angela and to Wallace. Everyone spent some moments examining the gadgets, but they seemed in no hurry to take the final step of sticking their PFM's on themselves.

  I said, “Consider th
at I've had my implant for over two years with no ill effects."

  Angela looked up and laughed nervously as she said, “I'm the low-ranker here; I guess I'll go first.” She pressed the PFM to her forearm and said, “PFM attach."

  The PFM had been stiffly straight. At her command it adapted its flat side to her arm as if it had been made of shiny heated wax.

  Angela stared at it for a moment as she twisted her arm to and fro, then she sat down and said, “PFM detach."

  The PFM regained its former shape and stiffness and Angela had to reach quickly to keep it from falling off her arm.

  "Well,” she said, “It certainly is responsive, isn't it? PFM attach.” The device again bonded to her arm. She stroked it with her fingers and softly said, “Wow ... I can barely feel it on my arm."

  Looking up at Steph, Angela grinned beamingly and asked, “What now?"

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Before Steph could speak, Linda said, “PFM attach."

  As I watched the gadget bond to her arm, Wallace also muttered, “PFM attach."

  I saw that he'd rolled up his left sleeve and stuck the thing on his inner forearm. He worked the muscles of his arm and held the arm at different angles for a few moments, then he grinningly looked first at me, then at Steph.

  "Now that we all seem ready,” said Steph with a return grin, “I'll explain the basic commands. 'Field one on' calls up the protective field. 'Field two on' calls up light-bending qualities that will render you effectively invisible, although if you move against a static background someone may notice a slight warping effect and infrared devices will detect your body heat."

  Wallace said, “Field one on,” then said, “I don't see or feel anything. How can I tell if it's working?"

  "Try poking yourself with something,” I said. “A pencil or a pen."

  He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, then pushed the tip against his left arm. It stopped a quarter-inch from his skin and he seemed unable to push it any farther.

  "I'll be damned,” he said wonderingly.

  Angela said, “Field two on,” and vanished completely within a split-second. “Oh, wow...” she breathed. “I'm looking at the desk through my hand!"

  "Not so much through it as around it,” said Steph.