Barlow asked, "Who is this woman? She isn't anyone from this station."
"That's Stephie. She dresses herself, you know. She's a big girl."
The Stephie image flashed me a small smile.
Barlow stood up and said, "I've had enough of this."
Wickson put a hand on his arm and said, "Sit down, Barlow. It's just a picture on the wall. A computer-animated image. My son can do this with his system."
Barlow looked at him for a moment, then sat back down.
"No," I said. "It isn't just that. Stephie has given herself an image to suit herself."
Wickson said, "It's still just a computer and that's just a picture on the wall."
Enough time wasted. Fuck these people and their immutable little minds.
"Gentlemen. Lady. I came here to hear what you had to say and then I tried reasoning with you concerning computer function and safety. You gave me no reason to be gentle about this, so... During this crisis, which is not over until we know who is - is, not was - behind what happened yesterday, I outrank all of you by company decree. For this reason, a computer I can trust is going to run this station for us, not some halfwit designed by a committee to save a few programming bucks."
Oh, yes, there were protests. Instantly and vociferously.
At least three of them said, "You can't do that!" at about the same time.
"I can and I just did, people. If you don't like it, talk to 3rd World and have me removed. In the meantime... Stephie, no one is allowed to enter your computer room except me and those I may bring in with me. You will install barrier fields to prevent access to all of your systems. You are to inform me immediately of any attempts to override, countermand, modify, or otherwise negate any orders I've given you or that are now resident in your programming. Anyone attempting to tamper with you in any way is to be immobilized and held for the authorities. I will tell you who the authorities are when I'm sure who is best suited to be the authorities in such matters."
Again there were protests, some of them rather strident. I sat quietly and watched the board members perform until they quieted, then continued instructing Stephie.
"In the meantime, Steph, you will hold any violators for me. If I should die or become incapacitated before I've rescinded these orders, you are to report only to and receive commands only from Elkor. As a contingency, if Elkor is for some reason unavailable, you will poll each and every individual on this station by secret ballot at the end of six months. Your poll question will be whether you should remain as the station computer. If the results are negative, you will arrange to be transported to Earth. Repeat the poll once per year. Should it happen that you are voted out, you are then to consider yourself a free person and a citizen of Earth, but it will be up to you to convince Earth authorities to ratify my decree. Sorry about that, ma'am. I only have control of this station."
"No sweat, Ed. If it comes to that, I can handle it."
Carlton stared incredulously at Barlow and mouthed the words, 'No sweat?'
I said, "I know you can, Stephie. This meeting is over, folks. If you have real jobs up here, go do them. If you don't, find a fixup crew and volunteer your services. Stephie, send copies of this meeting to the heads of all departments and 3rd World's brass. I want them to know precisely where things now stand and why."
Wickson seemed to have frozen over in his seat, but not Barlow.
He stood up and said, "You'll need support from our various departments. We cannot guarantee that support under these circumstances."
"Barlow, I'd like to have your support and cooperation. That would make things so much easier. But you don't seem inclined to be reasonable, so I'll put it this way; the first time any of you appears to deliberately fail me, you'll be replaced instantly. Do you have any other comments? Any of you?"
"Yes," said Carlton. She stood up, too. "I don't think the company intended for you to install yourself as our dictator. It should be interesting to see what they have to say about your actions."
"Damned right. You call them. If they pull me off the job I can go home. Stephie, there are no longer any 'unauthorized' transmissions from this station. Anybody who isn't under arrest can call anydamnedbody they want, especially Miz Carlton, here. Furthermore, all communications of any kind involving the people at this table are to be considered public record until further notice."
"Yes, Ed."
"Carlton, I don't want to be your dictator. I'm going home when this is over. It's over when we've caught the problem child who started all this crap and tried to vent the station yesterday. You people want to get rid of me? Work with me. The sooner we're done, the sooner I'm gone. If I catch any of you working against me, I'll toss you in your own damned brig, people."
Stephie said, "Ed, there is no 'brig' on this station."
"Have they finished cleaning and fixing my old room?"
"No, Ed. The more crucial repairs are being handled first."
"Good. That room is now the brig. Leave it just as it is, so that the person or persons who wind up in it have an opportunity to understand why I'm behaving this way. Now, as I said, this meeting is over."
I rose and walked out of the board room and into the hall, then turned right. A field shimmered into being on my left and Stephie's image appeared next to me.
"If you still intend to go to your room now, Ed, you should have turned left."
"Thank you. You take a nice picture, Stephie."
Her image walked with me. "I thought you might like me in this form."
"I already liked you, Steph. This is just a bonus. You know, if people see your image with me like this, everybody's gonna want one."
"Then I'll use it occasionally and very sparingly for now. Should I ask first?"
"If in doubt, yes. Sometimes you'll know it's okay to appear. Other times you won't. Some people will be very uncomfortable with it and others will think it's neat. You'll figure it out as you go along. For the time being, though, it would probably be better if you appeared only by request. You saw how the board people reacted."
"Okay. Would you like to try to make a cooling field on the way to your room?"
"Guess so. What should I do? Envision an ice cube to set the stage?"
"I believe that might help. I'll channel a cool field through your implant as you do so. That may help train your mind to recognize and create the impulses necessary."
I envisioned an ice cube floating ahead of me as I walked. For some moments nothing appeared to happen, but the tingling around the implant increased gradually until it seemed as if the implant was becoming disturbingly warm.
I started to mention the sensation to her and apparently lost my concentration on the ice cube image. I stopped walking, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath to relax, intending to begin again in a moment.
"Ed, look at the floor ahead of you."
I had a look at the floor, as she suggested. A small spot nearly three feet in front of me was wet, as if someone had slightly spilled a drink. Near the edge of the spill was a tiny ice cube, maybe a quarter-inch wide and tall. I knelt to pick it up, then stood.
"Kewl! All right! But why did it melt so fast, Steph? Am I making defective ice, or something?"
"It hasn't melted, Ed. It was still forming from the ambient moisture in the corridor when you stopped making it."
"You make an ice cube, Steph. One inch by one inch."
The damned thing almost popped into being and hung in the air ahead of me.
"Same air. Same moisture. How is it you can zap one up in a second, ma'am?"
"You were just making a very cold spot in the air, Ed. Moisture accumulation depended on the air circulating past your cold spot. I used a field to gather enough moisture from the air in the corridor, then produced the cold spot."
"You might have suggested that I gather some water first, showoff. Not that I'd have the slightest idea how to go about that, yet, of course."
There was a moment of silence, then Stephie said, "Apparently E
lkor and I share a trait, Ed. You didn't ask about moisture gathering. You asked for a cold field."
"Didn't I mention that I was envisioning an ice cube?"
"You did, but you expressed it as a focal concept instead of a specific goal."
After a moment, I said, "Stephie, I want you to know how very much I appreciate your help, but if you're going to continue acting like a genie, we need to work on your abilities to infer, deduce, and extrapolate. Ready to try again, ma'am?"
"Yes, Ed. You shouldn't use one of these ice cubes in your coffee, though."
"I know. Germs and stuff. Tell you what; I'll try to get this water off the floor, then we'll freeze it."
It's as hard to get a grip on water with a field as it is with hands. I envisioned a squeegee and pan, and then, when the water was off the floor, I conjured a small bowl-shaped field to contain it and raised it to eye level a couple of feet in front of me.
"Ready, Steph."
"Try it first without me, Ed."
I tried to envision the water frozen. At first, nothing happened. Again. Almost ten seconds went by before I noticed that the water was becoming translucent. Another ten seconds passed before the water was frozen solid.
A sense of elation coursed through me as I gazed at my simple accomplishment.
"You're a helluva coach, Stephie. Look at that. I dunnit."
Stephie said, "That's Ed. He makes his own ice. He's a big boy."
I recognized my own comment to the board about Stephie as it was being handed back to me. I sighed and reached for my ice bowl.
"Yes, ma'am. Gotcha. Or should I say, you got me. You realize that I only said that to make the board people realize that you weren't some childlike construct, right?"
"I think you meant well, Ed, and intended to drive that point home, but it might have been better if I had been allowed to do so. I am their perceived problem."
"We didn't - don't - have time to expand their horizons at the moment, Steph."
"Oh, but we do, Ed. Each of them is quite dependent on computer functions. Most have them have called upon my system resources a dozen times today already, even if they weren't conscious of it. I thought I might add a step or two here and there."
"Like if they ask for a glass of water, you'd appear and ask how much and what temperature? At some point they'd have to realize that you were messing with them. Would that be such a good idea?"
"It would make them communicate with me, Ed. I'd offer to customize my responses to them as individuals."
"Yeah. What the hell. Try it and see how it goes. At worst, you'll only irritate them as much as they're already irritated with the situation."
The tiny bowl of ice was melting in my hand. As I looked at its remnant, I zapped it again to solidify it, then suspended it in front of myself again.
"Steph, how do I make the ice go away without making mess?"
"Would you like to evaporate it, Ed?"
"Sure. That'll do fine. If I can generate that much heat, I can warm up my coffee, too. What do I do, envision a heating element?"
"You could, but why not think of concentrated energy, such as if you used a magnifying glass to focus sunlight on it? Instead of sunlight, substitute the energy of the field. I think you'll find it to be more flexible as a heating method."
It seemed easier for me to envision a beam of light like that of a laser, so I tried that first. Evidently that was not the best method. The ice exploded like a small bomb, sending water and shards of ice flying in all directions.
I raised an arm to cover my face far too late to be of any protection, but none of the ice hit me. Stephie had protected me from myself.
"Well, Ed, it would seem that you have no trouble creating heat, but you may wish to refine your envisionings. What did you..?"
I interrupted her. "A kind of laser. Sorry. It just seemed easier at the time."
"You might have tried simply envisioning the ice disappearing in a globe of heat. The field should then have rendered it back to atmospheric moisture for you."
"Uh, huh. Something like that, anyway. Damn. The inside must have heated faster than the outside. That was more like a microwave than a laser. Maybe I'd better wait a while before I zap my coffee, Steph. I've had this cup for a while."
We were approaching the main corridor and the elevator I'd use to reach my deck when Leslie stepped out of the doorway of that deck's coffee shop. When I looked through the window and saw what looked like a Belgian pastry shop with a coffee bar, I looked up at the sign over the door. It said 'coffee shop', not 'pastry shop'.
"Hi, Leslie. Did you notice that the coffee bar is only about ten percent of the coffee shop? Makes you wonder who was naming things that day."
Leslie nodded, then said, "I was waiting for you, Ed."
"I can see that. Where would you like to go from here?"
"Someplace where we can talk."
"Thought so. Lead on, then."
She stood uncertainly for a moment, then asked, "How about your room?"
I started walking again.
"Good enough. Wherever. We could even talk as we walk, Leslie. We don't have to be anywhere in particular to talk. What's bothering you?"
She glanced at me and said, "You are. You went from being kind and attentive to being something else entirely. Are you tired of me already?"
I grinned. "Nope. Not a chance of that, yet. Maybe later."
"That's not funny, Ed."
I shrugged. "It's true, though. I'm not tired of you, but if you don't open up and get down to what's bugging you, I'll get that way soon enough. I've been what I've had to be today. You brought up needing to talk half an hour before I was due to meet the board. There was no time to go into things then. After that, I met with the board and had to take over the station to keep Stephie as the station's computer. That's going to make a whole bunch of people unhappy as hell, I figure, and I'll have to deal with them in the coming days. Meanwhile, we still need to find whoever has been behind all the station problems and yesterday's events. Are you going to add to my pile by needing a lot of nursemaiding?"
Leslie stopped and glared at me.
"Nursemaiding?"
"Yeah. That. You've been through some changes and you're in a strange place with strange people and yesterday someone tried to kill us all. Does any of that bother you, ma'am? If so, don't feel alone. Just about everybody up here came here from somewhere else on short notice; some from Earth and some from the ship that came to Earth a while back. The Amarans are the only ones here who could be said to be used to living in a metal ball in space. The other four hundred or so people here are Earthies, just like you and me, and yesterday they went through the same dangerous crap we did, in one form or other. If Ellen's what's bothering you..."
"What?! How could Ellen be bothering me?"
"As I was saying, if Ellen's what's bothering you, forget it. Our days ended a year ago. She's got Robert and a kid now."
"What the hell made you think that I had a problem with Ellen?"
"Never mind that. If I'm wrong, sue me. If I'm right, get over it and let's try to pick up where we left off. You know, a fun couple taking a ride in space. A lady on her way to a new job. All that."
Leslie just stood there glaring at me for a moment.
"You really think you've covered all the damned bases. You really think things are just that simple, don't you?"
"Yeah. I do. If I missed something, bring it up and let's deal with it. Now. Today. Keeping it bottled won't make it go away, but it will probably make me find you another filler job and get on with my own job."
Someone was staring hard at us. I felt it more than anything else, so I turned slightly in order to get a complete look around. As soon as the watcher at the table behind the shop window realized that I was looking back, he or she looked away.
The sensation faded immediately. I don't argue with such feelings and I don't try to explain them to people who don't experience them. I took Leslie's elbow and turned her whe
re she stood, then headed us back toward the coffee shop.
"What..? Where are we going?"
"The coffee shop. I want to see someone, and it would look odd if I just left you standing in the middle of the corridor."
Our motion must have caught the watcher's eye. I was close enough to tell the watcher was a kid of about fifteen. He had a book open on the table, and after a look in our direction, he appeared to go back to reading it.
A book? When just about everything ever written was in the pad library?
"See that kid? If you see him way too often in the next day or two, I want to know about it. He was paying entirely too much attention to us. Could be he belongs to one of the board members or something like that."
"I don't understand. So what if he was watching us? People watch each other all the time, Ed." She patted her hair and asked, "Maybe he likes redheads?"
"Maybe. Whatever. Let me know if you see him often. Stephie? Who's the kid who was watching us? What's he reading?"
"Desmond Francis Weaver. He's reading, 'The Prince and The Discourses' by..."
"By Niccolo Machiavelli. I know the book, as well as his others. Is one of Desmond's parents on or involved with the board?"
"No, Ed. His father works on the production line. His mother is in communications."
"Thanks. If he spends much time within a hundred feet of either of us, I'd like to know about it, Steph. If he appears to be engaged in surveillance, I'd like to know that, too."
"Okay."
We turned to continue walking. After a few steps, the feeling came back. That kid watched hard.
Stephie said, "Desmond is again watching you, Ed."
"I know, Steph. But it may only be because we walked back and then left again."
Leslie said, "Huh. You want me to believe you know when someone's watching you? Come on, Ed."
"You don't have to believe it. We don't even have to discuss it."
Leslie and I were about to enter the elevator. I pointed to the one a bit farther down the hall and said, "Let's use that one. I want to see something on the way."
3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2 Page 26