Book 4: 3rd World Products, Inc.

by Ed Howdershelt

  Jeffries, Massmer, and a woman bank officer disappeared into her office for some five minutes or so as Steph set up her new account. When they returned, the bank officer's secretary offered us refreshments from a well-stocked bar.

  I suggested that all six of the key personnel involved in the transactions take a quick flitter ride around the city and only one begged off claiming other responsibilities to take care of before day's end. Jeffries also opted to stay and talk with someone, probably about his finder's fee.

  As we passed above where the covered bridge had been I asked about it and was apologetically told that an arsonist had destroyed it, but that people were raising funds to rebuild it.

  When we returned to the bank, I deposited fifty Euros into the fund in my first wife's name. She'd loved that bridge and would undoubtedly enjoy receiving a picture-postcard thank-you note from the fund's agency.

  By three we were on our way back to Britain. I called Krista at Citizens of the World to arranged an afternoon visit. She said she'd call Andrew—her father—and make dinner arrangements at a nearby restaurant.

  Five hours of sleep enroute to Britain hadn't been enough; I excused myself and napped for the rest of the flight. When Sue woke me we were about two minutes from London. I stretched and looked to see if there was any coffee left in my mug.

  Yup, but not much. I warmed it up, swept a little moisture from the air to thin it a bit, and sipped it as I quelled my not-enough-sleep jitters.

  We dropped Jeffries off at his building, then headed for Krista's office. The street in front of Krista's building was too busy, so Susanne dropped us off in the alleyway behind the building and Steph materialized in the lobby to let Krista know that we were out back.

  After introductions and greetings, Krista and her secretary Marlene pulled extra chairs into her office and offered everyone tea. I opted for a visit to the washroom, where I made myself a fresh cup of coffee, then returned to the group.

  Steph and I generally outlined the AI-run clinic idea and Krista seemed to take a cautious view of it at first, but we assured her that we would prove the capabilities of AI doctors well before the effort began.

  "All right,” she said, “Setting that issue aside, it would seem to be a marvelous plan and one that we could integrate into our own refugee efforts with little difficulty."

  "There's something else,” I said, “Steph's invented a gadget called a Personal Field Manipulator. PFM for short. It has certain features we think should be available to everyone and we'd like to distribute them through the clinics."

  Krista immediately went on guard and asked, “So this is to be tied into a commercial venture?"

  "Don't panic yet,” I said. “The PFM units distributed through the clinics would be free or damned cheap. Tax write-offs. Let Steph give you the info and show you some of what the PFM's can do first."

  My words in no way dispelled Krista's look of suspicion. I stood up and walked to the center of the high-ceilinged room, then said, “Glider on green."

  My kite popped into being and Krista's mouth fell open, as did her secretary's. They and Andrew rose to come touch the glider and examine it more closely.

  "Now would you be interested in seeing the rest of the show?” I asked. “How about a personal field that would stop or turn a knife or bullet and stop chemical and biological agents?"

  Andrew gazed hard at me for a moment.

  "That's a lot to believe, Ed."

  Nodding, I said, “Yeah, I know it is. Five suit on."

  Once my field was in place, I used my open hand to push flat a paper spindle on the secretary's desk. The point of the metal staff pushed hard against my field, but the spike abruptly bent in the middle and the point was pushed downward.

  "Well, I'll be goddamned,” said Andrew quietly.

  Krista smacked his arm and said, “You will if you keep saying that, dad."

  Her comment made me slightly nervous. Religious beliefs could keep her from cooperating when she found out about the contraceptive feature of the protective field. I glanced at Steph, but she didn't seem to understand why. Oh, well. Finish the pitch first.

  After watching Steph's screen-displayed “footage” of the p-field standing against gunfire, chemicals, and fire, Krista and her father seemed well convinced. It was then that Steph dropped the other shoe.

  Steph explained why we thought the protective fields shouldn't be available until most people everywhere had a PFM, then explained how the protective field function would be conferred by satellite transmission.

  After a short pause, she told Krista about the contraceptive properties of the p-field and the reason for it. Krista's left eyebrow went up and she eyed first Steph, then me.

  "You're serious? This ... PFM thing can function as a contraceptive?"

  I said, “We thought you might have a problem with that, so we left it for last."

  Andrew laughed and said, “A problem? Hardly. The birthrate is the reason for most of the problems of the world.” He laughed again and said, “Especially the parts of the world that most of our clients come from."

  "Dad,” said Krista, “A lot of people aren't going to accept this little caveat."

  Andrew looked at his daughter, “'Little caveat?' You haven't been there, daughter; to the world they come from, that is. You've only seen those who make it to our door, and those tiny few are the hardiest, smartest, and luckiest of the whole damned lot of them. They're killed in wholesale lots by disease, starvation, and mistreatment. Two begets ten in their world because that's the only way they can count on having help around the farm or someone to care for them when they're ill or injured. Many live only forty or possibly even fifty miserable years and leave nothing for their offspring but more of the same."

  He turned to me and said, “You're saying that there'll come a day when anyone who wears one of those things will be invulnerable to all but the worst possible weapons. You're saying that everyone who wants one will have one. Is that the absolute truth of it, Ed? Upon your honor, is that what you know to be the truth?"

  "Yup,” I said. “To put it plainly, Andrew, Steph's not screwing around. She's going to do this, one way or another. CW can be in or out, but it will get done."

  Andrew nodded and turned to face Krista as he said, “Only the fools will turn down PFM's, daughter. Only the fools will choose to perpetuate lives of grinding poverty, filth, and danger, and such people should be allowed to do so until all the goddamned fools of the world are bloody well extinct."

  As Krista stared at him in mild shock, he said, “Every so often some would-be messiah promises to end mankind's suffering. Every damned one of them has been a failure or a charlatan. Even the sincere ones were often opposed by the very people they were trying to help. For the first time there's a real chance to improve the lot of humanity, daughter; to give it a future other than simply more of the bloody same."

  He turned to Steph, stuck his hand out, and said, “I have to be part of this."

  Steph shook his hand as they grinned at each other, then he turned to me and shook my hand as he said, “By God, life just became really interesting again."

  Krista waited until his celebratory moment died down a bit, then said, “Excuse us for a few moments, please,” and took his arm to try to pull him toward the door.

  Andrew resisted her briefly, then looked at us as if to say ‘I'd better humor her’ and allowed her to lead him to the outer office. Marlene rose as if to follow them, then seemed to think better of it and stopped as she neared the door.

  For all her apparent desire for privacy, Krista seemed unable to keep her voice from becoming sharply audible.

  "...and I'm telling you, dad—yes, as usual, and as necessary, also as usual—that something doesn't sound right about this. Why does she anticipate difficulty with the authorities? I'll tell you why; there's something hinky about the whole thing!"

  "After all the times we've had to circumvent some demented, syphilitic dictator in one of those piss-pot
countries...? Daughter, you know who runs the world. Hell, you've had six years of university; you probably even have a pet bloody theory about why the bastards want to run the world, and I'll bet it isn't very flattering. In fact, as I recall, you've always been quite the anti-authority activist. How many times have I bonded you out of some damned jail? That was the biggest reason you wanted this position. What happened, daughter? When did you change sides?"

  Krista's tone was icy. “You know I haven't! Why won't you listen to me?"

  "Because you're not giving me reasons, daughter; only blind suspicion. Why? Because he used to be a mercenary?” Andrew laughed. “Don't forget, Krista, so was I! At least he was a medic; something other—or more—than just another war dog. Your own dear father can't claim even that distinction. I was there simply for the money."

  "Really?” she returned acidly, “Is that why you got yourself shot up while single-handedly trying to save two native families from being slaughtered? They paid you? How, may I ask?” Her voice rose dramatically as she yelled, “With what? Bloody beads and trinkets?!"

  I rapped my knuckles on the desk and yelled, “Hey! You two wanna hold it down out there? That's supposed to be a private conversation!"

  Krista stormed back into her office and yelled, “You bloody well shut up, yank! You and your artificial girlfriend have my father ready to go on another bloody damned crusade!"

  Looking past her at Andrew, I asked, “Another one?"

  He shrugged and grinned as he said, “The first one—or rather, the first one she knew about—set up Citizens of the World. She remembers it as a rather uphill effort."

  Krista whirled and yelled, “It was a bloody uphill effort, dad! One that nearly saw you killed half a dozen times!"

  Andrew walked into the room and sat down. “Only nearly, daughter. Only nearly. It needed to be done. It still needs done, and if you didn't believe that, you wouldn't come here to sit at that desk every day."

  Sighing, he said to us, “There have been death threats and two attempted bombings of these offices, but she seems to think it's perfectly all right for her to be here. If only she would deign to allow her poor, aging father as much self-direction in his life.” Shaking his head, he said in a confidential tone, “She's afraid I might be hurt, I think."

  Raging at his teasing, Krista's voice rose again as she said, “You were gone most of the time until I was twenty-two, dad. Now and then a friendly man my mother identified as my father would show up at the flat for a week or two. He sent me odd things from odd places and he wrote to me occasionally, but I didn't know him well enough to know what to write back to him.” She spun and pointed at me, saying, “And then you brought him back to us in bloody tatters!"

  I shrugged. “Well, sorry ‘bout that, lady. I wasn't the one who tattered him."

  Turning to Andrew, I said, “I'll bet that little incident taught you to wear old clothes when you sally forth to fight for truth and justice, didn't it?"

  Andrew laughed and started to say something, but Krista fairly screamed, “Don't you dare make light of this! My father nearly died out there!"

  "Krista, sit down and belt up!” Andrew said sharply. “He's the only goddamned reason I didn't die out there, and I won't stand for you ranting at him like a goddamned harpy. One more word from you and we'll find out if I can still put you over my knee!"

  He was on his feet and close enough to be nearly nose to nose with her when she whipped around to face him. Krista stepped back a pace as he spoke and her butt bumped her desk, which allowed her to retreat no farther.

  Steph stood up and quietly said, “I'd like to say something, please."

  After a moment more of meeting his daughter's glare Andrew said, “Krista. You will be quiet while Stephanie speaks. Stephanie, you have the floor."

  "Thank you, Andrew. Krista, sales of the PFM's will fund the AI-run free clinics. If you would have the clinics, you must accept the distribution of PFM's and their later contraceptive feature. We cannot allow the current practice of unconstrained breeding if we largely eliminate the usual causes of death. At the very least we could expect worldwide famine and war within two generations."

  Having finished speaking, Stephanie sat down. Krista looked around the room for a moment and something seemed to dawn on her.

  "I think we've had a misunderstanding,” she said. “I don't object to contraception; I was simply pointing out that many people will reject PFM's, whatever the benefits. I was upset—and still am—because my father is putting himself in harm's way again."

  Andrew asked, “And you wouldn't be putting yourself in the same danger?"

  Krista snapped a glare at him.

  "I don't see a problem,” I said. “All personnel involved will have the protective fields engaged from the outset, right Steph?"

  Steph looked askance at me and said, “Ed, my plan calls for all PFM's to be enhanced at once."

  Shrugging, I said, “So change the plan. A lot of places are run by people who'd prefer things to remain just as they are or to get even worse. Most of Central Africa and Central America. India, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, and all the other ‘-istans'. They'll make enthusiastic noises in public, but anyone who threatens their control over their people will have disastrous problems. Those involved with the clinics and PFM's will be in danger from day one in more than half of the nations of the world."

  Marlene raised a hand and said, “I'm afraid I don't quite understand how PFM's and free clinics will threaten anyone's control over their people."

  Stephanie answered her first.

  "In some countries medicine and medical facilities are provided only through government-controlled systems. PFM's would greatly reduce peoples’ dependence on those systems."

  Andrew added, “And let's not forget those places where it's rule by intimidation; simple brutalities such as chopping off body parts as an example to others. I've seen villages in Somalia and and other African countries where every fourth person was missing fingers, feet, or hands, and it hasn't always been clear whether the choppers were with the government or the local warlords. PFM's could end some of that."

  Maybe a whole ten seconds passed before Krista asked, “Ed, what role will you play in Stephanie's plans?"

  I'd been sipping my coffee and had to think only a moment before answering, “A damned small one, if any. I'll demo my kite and play show and tell in the western countries, but there's no way in hell I'm going back to Africa or the Middle East. Fact is, except for maybe Australia and New Zealand, I can't think of any good reasons for me to go south of the equator again anywhere in the world."

  That statement earned me quizzical looks from Steph and Marlene. Andrew was pouring tea and didn't look up.

  Krista fixed me with a narrow gaze and asked, “Do you feel that way because most of the people south of the equator aren't white?"

  Shaking my head with a sigh, I said, “No, Krista, it isn't because they're varying shades of brown. It's because they live in places I never want to see again. Have you ever been to Africa? To South America?"

  "No, I haven't."

  "Then treat yourself to a few months anywhere in those regions and you'll see why I'm not interested. They're mostly cesspools of disease, violence, and governmental tyranny. Bloody tribal warfare is an almost daily occurrence and some Africans still capture and sell each other to the Sudanese as slaves. Semi-official rumors have it that some of the African nations have been experimenting in other African nations with bioweapons, and all that means is that nobody can prove anything yet or that nobody wants to, ‘cause then they'd have to do something about it. Fact is, I don't think there'll be any real peace in Africa as long as there are Africans in it and the whole damned continent can sink for all I care. Let someone else introduce them to PFM's."

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  After a moment of the kind of silence you hear after someone farts during a funeral service, Krista said, “Well, that was enlightening."

  Andrew chuckled again.
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  "You'll find that many people feel that way about Africa, including many of the native Africans."

  Giving him the fisheye look, Krista said, “This discussion is over for the moment. Let's go to dinner,” and grabbed her purse and keys.

  Stopping before Stephanie, Krista said, “I'd like to speak with you later, Stephanie. Without Ed or Andrew present, please, if that's possible,” then she turned to glance at me as if to see how I'd take it.

  I shrugged and said, “She doesn't report to me anymore. Go for it."

  Looking at me, Stephanie said, “I'm at your convenience, Krista."

  "Fine, then,” said Krista. “After dinner?"

  "That would be fine."

  With a glance at Krista, then at me, Andrew got to his feet. Marlena stood up and picked up her purse, then went to her desk and took something out of a drawer. Krista set forth at a march pace and ushered us all out to the street, then locked the door.

  Marlena and Andrew seemed rather alert, so I took a look around, too. Susanne spoke through my implant to tell me that she detected nothing amiss in the vicinity. I nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

  Again at a march pace, Krista led the way down the sidewalk. I sent a tendril out to slap a metal sign near her and she jumped sharply, then stopped to look around. We caught up and gathered her into our group as we passed the spot.

  The restaurant was a surf ‘n turf place that had its own stairwell entrance. Andrew said it occupied most of the second floor and the food was passable. Krista corrected him by saying that the food was excellent. Andrew reiterated that the food was only passable. When Krista looked to Marlena for backup, Marlena demurred.

  "Don't pull me into this. I only eat here when someone else pays.” She glanced at me and added, “It's kind of pricey."

  It was also packed. People were lined up all the way to the head of the stairs.

  "Are you dead set on eating here?” I asked. “It'll be an hour before we see any food, Krista. What about that place down the street?"