3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2

by Ed Howdershelt

  The restaurant was packed. I got us a couple of big coffees to go and we went to sit in Stephie.

  "Hi, Stephie. How about an opaque, soundproof canopy for a while, ma'am?"

  The canopy turned to silvery gray and outside noises ceased immediately.

  "Hi, Ed. Hi, Leslie. Your bioscan doesn't show you with a hangover, Ed."

  "That's 'cause I don't have one, nosy."

  Leslie said, "I wonder what the people outside think we're doing in here."

  "Some will think we're contacting the mother ship or something like that. Others will think we pulled the shades so we can bang like bunnies. If you're worried, we can make the canopy translucent, so they can see us sitting here behaving ourselves."

  Stephie said, "Ed, drink some of that coffee. Aren't we a little touchy this morning?"

  "No, ma'am. We are not touchy. I am touchy. Maybe I should make a little sign and wear it on my badge. Caution. Touchy this morning."

  Leslie said, "Sarcastic, too, Stephie. Don't forget sarcastic."

  I ignored her and discovered that my coffee was too hot.

  "Stephie, would you please drop a cooling field in my coffee?"

  I felt the field and the cold it produced. Leslie could actually see it, and her amazement was priceless.

  "Down thirty degrees. Try it now, Ed."

  The coffee was a much more drinkable temperature.

  "Thank you very much, Steph. This is all I've wanted for the last half hour."

  I leaned my seat back and sipped some more. Leslie giggled and I looked to see why, but saw nothing more than Leslie looking back at me.

  "I was just rerunning something you said a moment ago, Ed. 'Bang like bunnies'. I've never heard it put that way before."

  She snickered again and tried to sip her own coffee. Too hot. She held the cup out in front of her and asked Stephie to do it again for hers. Her look of amazement grew as she watched the field and felt the cold.

  She said, "That is so..."

  "Cool?" I asked. "Amazing, as per the look on your face?"

  "Yeah. That. Maybe you're used to stuff like this, but I'm not."

  "Yeah, I know. It'll be fun watching you discover some of the neat stuff Stephie can do. I wish I'd met her when I was a kid. We'd have had a ball growing up together."

  "Huh? What do you mean, 'growing up together'?"

  "Stephie achieved a form of sentience last year. It was somewhat stiff and formal at first, but she's been working on that, as you can probably tell. The law says someone has to own her, and that's me, but I never did care for doormat women. I want my Stephie to be a real person, which means she has to construct herself as she sees fit."

  "Your Stephie? That sounds pretty possessive to me, Ed."

  "Damned right it does, just as it would if I were referring to my daughter."

  "I see. Yes, well, I guess that is a little different, then. Your daughter, huh?"

  "Yup. Super-powerful, hyper-intelligent, capable of leaving tall buildings in her dust, and all that, but new to the world and to being self-aware, just like a child. Give her a few years, though and she'll be ready to run for President."

  "God, listen to you. 'My daughter the President.' Uh, don't you have to be born here for that? Maybe even just born, instead of assembled?"

  I hoisted my coffee high toward the console.

  "Here's to overturning archaic laws. The revolution starts here. Sign up today."

  Leslie laughed and said, "Jesus. You, of all people, do truly belong at a science fiction convention, Ed. I mean that in a kind way, of course."

  "Of course you do, ma'am. Still, she could do it. Stephie could theoretically live forever. All she needs is a new power unit every so often, and Elkor makes them. We'd just campaign every year until she wins an election. Right, Stephie?"

  There was a profound silence in the cabin.

  Leslie said, "Maybe she doesn't want to run for President, Ed."

  Stephanie said, "Leslie's right, Ed. I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think I want that job. It's only a temporary position. I'd want something better."

  Leslie laughed and said, "By God, she is smart, isn't she?"

  "Stephie," I said, "You do whatever suits you once you're free and legal. The daughter thing was just an analogy to show Leslie how I feel about you, and I really don't think you'll ever be able to disappoint me. Look, Stephie, I won't live forever, so I only have so much time to work with you. I just want you to have a fair shot at whatever you want to do or become and to know how to deal with people, okay?"

  "Okay, Ed."

  "Leslie, does that sound reasonable to you?"

  "Uh, well, Ed, actually it sounds a lot better than the deal I got from my daddy. He wanted me to become a lawyer and didn't want to settle for anything else. We went through hell for a lot of years over that. I think he still resents my decision to teach, and I think Stephie is lucky that you feel as you do about her."

  "Wow," I said. "Think of it. 'Stephanie for the defense, your honor'. Shades of Perry Mason... She could suck up every existing lawbook and keep up with the new stuff without breaking a sweat. Nothing would get by her. Or what about becoming a doctor...? Of everything?"

  Leslie said, "Oh, hell. Don't start. Let her find her own way."

  "Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking..."

  "Don't. You'll become just like my dad, obsessed with seeing his little girl become something that would please only him in the long run."

  I sighed. "Yeah, I hear ya. Hell, I hear me, too. Okay. I'll try to watch that."

  Leslie looked at me and said, more than asked, "You don't have any kids, do you, Ed?"

  "Not even ones I wouldn't know about. I got fixed in seventy-one. Don't misinterpret what you've just heard about my feelings toward Stephie, Leslie. I don't miss kids. I don't like having them around. Stephie's only missing the ability to interact with people without getting used or hustled. That requires an interpretive personality. I intend to help her build one before she's on her own in the world."

  Leslie nodded, then said, "Hey, it's opening time. Ready to go in?"

  "Guess so. Stephie, it's time for us to go act like tourists in wonderland."

  The canopy instantly turned transparent again and the noise of the outside world inundated us. Stepping out of Stephie's field was like walking into a brightly-lit oven. I saw some guy in a suit taking pictures by the hotel door.

  He seemed unenthusiastic about what he was doing, as if it were simply part of a job. Our eye contact lasted a couple of moments, but he didn't budge until it suited him. He put the camera in its slipcover-style case. I figured him for some kind of cop.

  I killed the next two hours checking out the art show and some of the fan exhibits, then headed up to Anne's office around ten to noon. Her secretary told me she was busy and put me on hold in one of the sofa chairs ringing the office. There was a newspaper nearby, so I opened it and waited.

  Nearly half an hour later, the secretary said Anne could see me. When I entered Anne's office, she said nothing at first, then told me to have a seat, much in the manner of a commanding officer who isn't happy about something.

  She opened a folder, spent a couple of moments studying the contents, and then said, "I think our lunch date is canceled, Ed. Something's come up."

  "Okay, but why all the drama?"

  She flipped a picture at me. It was one of Leslie and me stepping down from Stephanie's deck to the ground.

  "I'm told you were in there nearly an hour with her."

  I stood up and said, "You were told right. See you around."

  "I thought you might be different, Ed."

  "Ha. You thought I might be entertaining. Don't delude yourself."

  Anne stood up, pointed at the picture, and said, "Well? What would you think?"

  "Try 'nothing', Anne. Stephie, there's a TV in this room someplace, isn't there?"

  "Yes, Ed. Behind a wooden panel."

  "Good. Show Anne what happened in your cabin betw
een Leslie and me. Sound and picture playback. All the gory details."

  The wall panel slid aside and the TV clicked on. The scene began with Leslie and me climbing aboard. I started for the door.

  "Where the hell are you going?"

  "I already know how this show turns out."

  Anne punched the remote button to turn off the TV.

  "We need to talk, Ed."

  I turned to look at her.

  "Later, maybe. Stephie, turn it back on and keep it on until the show's over."

  "Yes, Ed." The TV came back on, picking up where it had stopped.

  Anne punched the 'off' button again, but to no avail. I walked out of her office and closed the door behind me. I didn't think she'd follow me. She had too much pride for that, wouldn't want the secretary to witness a scene, and I wasn't exactly the love of her life, anyway. I was just a night of entertainment.

  I headed for the restaurant and ordered a burger basket with fries, then took my lunch out to Stephanie and climbed aboard. Putting the basket in one of the seats, I pulled a Dr. Pepper out of the cooler and opened it, then sat in the pilot's seat and put my feet up on the console.

  "Stephie, how about a translucent canopy this time?"

  The canopy zapped to a pearly translucence instantly.

  "Thank you. I don't feel like having an audience at the moment."

  "Anne's approaching us, Ed."

  "Did she watch the whole show, or at least most of it?"

  "Yes, Ed. All of it."

  "Then let her in, Steph."

  I got up to lend Anne a hand stepping up, then went back to my seat.

  "You didn't have to walk out, Ed."

  "Sure I did. You needed time to watch the show."

  "I didn't bother. You wouldn't have acted like that if you'd had anything to hide."

  "You didn't bother to watch it?"

  "No. It wasn't necessary, Ed."

  "Stephie, are you sure she watched it?"

  "She stood in front of the television for ten minutes, forty-one seconds, then..."

  Anne said, "Okay, damn it, I watched it. So what?"

  "So first you jumped to the wrong conclusion, then you acted on it, and now you've just outright lied to me to engender forgiveness, that's what. And that's enough for me. I have a low tolerance for manipulation techniques. Why don't we just say that last night was a lot of fun - because it was - and leave things at that?"

  Anne gazed at me steadily for a few moments.

  "Is that really how you want this to end, Ed? You don't leave until tomorrow morning, do you? Why don't you keep that room another night and let me try to make this up to you?"

  "Trying to make up for something is one of the worst reasons to go to bed with someone, Anne. Tell me you just want another night of fun, instead. I could probably go for that, but not the other. Just fun."

  Anne seemed a little off balance, but not for long.

  "Okay," she said, almost warily, as if expecting some kind of a sucker punch. "Just fun, then."

  I nodded. "Dinner in your room, or somewhere else?"

  She seemed to consider the matter, then said, "The steakhouse. I get off around seven tonight."

  "I'll call before then or drop by your office, ma'am."

  "Do you mean that? You aren't going to think up some excuse between now and then?"

  "I'll be there unless your plans change."

  "They won't." She paused, then added, "Barring emergencies, of course."

  "Barring emergencies. Got it."

  She gave me a sharp glance. I tried to look innocent.

  "I'll be there," I said. "Barring emergencies."

  "I'm not sure I believe you, Ed."

  "Well, what's it gonna cost you to find out? You're going to be working until seven anyway, right? I'll get there a little before or call to let you know I'm on the way."

  "And if you don't call or show up?"

  I sighed. "Well, damn. If I'm not there and haven't called, just say fuck it and chalk it up to an emergency, same as I'll do if I get there and find your doors locked. Life is short, Anne. Don't waste it on stuff like this. I'll be there if you don't cancel."

  She stood looking at me for another moment, then nodded and said, "Okay."

  I watched her walk back into the hotel and saw the guy who had taken the pictures of Leslie and me. He looked back at me as before, with no expression at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The other guy who was supposed to co-host the writer's panel with me hadn't shown up by two. I walked in, picked up one of the mikes on the table, and said, "Hi, everybody. We're short one on this panel of two, which leaves me. Can everybody hear me?"

  There was a ragged chorus of assent, so I proceeded with, "This is the E-publishing workshop and I'm Ed Howdershelt. No prepared script, just questions and answers. If you can ask a coherent question, you already have half the answer, so make this easy for me by asking coherent questions. Who wants to go first?"

  As the questions popped up around the room, I started circulating a stack of my Aurora Universe Writer's Group flyers around the room. Inevitably, someone cranked off about me advertising my own interests during a convention panel discussion.

  "Just keep the flyers moving, okay? You're receiving these because there's a links page there that will take you to independent information sources concerning such things as ebook publishers, formats, and rates of pay available. You will all think of questions later that you will have failed to ask during this session. Go to my site's links page and look for your answers when that happens, and don't be afraid to use the search engines to find even more ebook info sources."

  The woman said, "I still think there's something wrong with handing out flyers that include your own website in a supposedly unbiased panel discussion."

  "Then file a complaint, but before you do that, visit the site and see the links page. If you have any more to say about this matter immediately, or if you wish to be known as a truly difficult person, go down the hall and find the nearest con representative. Tell that rep to come here and close the session and I'll go get a beer. If you aren't prepared to do that without better reason than you have now, stay and participate. The rest of this hour is for e-pubbing questions only."

  Since e-pubbing is an internet-based matter, the few questions that I couldn't answer - or those that would have taken the rest of the hour by themselves - I was able to redirect as being best answered by a visit to informational websites.

  At the close of the hour, I asked for a show of hands by all those who felt that they hadn't just wasted an hour of their lives. Almost everyone raised a hand, including the woman who'd questioned my use of the flyers.

  In accordance with the convention's preferred closure procedure, I thanked everybody for attending and enduring me and finished with, "Class dismissed."

  Next on the agenda was a new movie that was 'premiering' at the con. Sure, it was already in the theaters, but at the con it was a freebie, and I had some time to kill. Without prior announcement, they kept us half an hour or so after the movie to get our reactions for some sort of videotaped survey.

  When they aimed the camera at me and asked my opinion of the movie, I said, "I liked it well enough. It had action to cover the weak spots in the script, like when men who'd been living like desert rats all their lives learned to fly jet fighters effectively in combat so quickly using simulators."

  Well, they'd asked for our honest opinions. That was mine.

  Back at the convention, I was told why my panel co-host hadn't shown. He'd fallen on the stairs and had been having his leg checked out. I was also told that the matter of the flyers had reached Chuck, and that he wanted me to know that he wasn't too happy about it.

  "Well, have him go to the site and check the links page. If he's still unhappy, he can get someone else for that panel next year."

  The con volunteer shook his head in dubious amazement that I wasn't very worried about the matter. He asked me if I wasn't maybe a l
ittle worried that I'd be held in - as he put it - disfavor if I said things like that? Wasn't I worried that I wouldn't be invited back as a con guest speaker next year?

  "Nope. I had four other reasons for being here, one of which would have paid for the admission as a business expense if I hadn't been an invited guest."

  The guy peeled away by the elevators to chase down someone else he'd been told to find. I went to the con suite and soaked up a couple of small coffees while chatting with some wannabe-aliens who were playing cards while waiting for a new buffet to appear. When Leslie wandered in, she saw me and sat down next to me.

  "How was the movie?"

  "Good enough. Not exceptional. How about your stuff?"

  "Good enough. Not exceptional. I'm going to keep and reuse that answer, by the way. It would fit a lot of things."

  "Feel free. You have to send me a dime every time you use it, though."

  "No problem. Did your panel go well?"

  "Well enough, et cetera. Most of them are just nosing into epubbing because they don't want to waste years of their lives praying to be noticed by paper pubbers or they know their stuff isn't really good enough to rate that notice. More than a few probably lack the confidence to send their stuff to the publishing houses, too. If their stuff's good enough, maybe some good reviews on the net will help them find the courage."

  She nodded and asked, "So have you made any dinner arrangements?"

  "Yup. The steakhouse around the corner with Anne."

  "You don't sound ecstatic. Did something happen between you two?"

  "I'm saving my ecstasy for later, Leslie. Something has occurred to me, though. Do you need to pick up anything for your extended visit upstairs?"

  "I used DeeDee's car and stopped by the house this morning. I have the basics with me and I can get whatever else I need there."

  "Good enough, then. I guess we're all set for tomorrow morning. Let me know if you think of anything tonight, though. No point in doing without something just because you overlooked it in a hurry. We can swing by your place on the way, no sweat."