Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (39 page)

"Hey, paesano." Guido winks and pulls out his wallet. " I ain't gonna leave you out. I got an extra five Cs for your troubles today. That little dweeb don't appreciate what he's got. Next month, he'll fall behind again. We'll repossess his education then, the right way, without no bat. The patsy's got a good education—should bring eighty Gs on the second-hand market, and Big Willy slips us a nice bonus to boot."

"Second-hand market." Juan spits and fondles his bat. "Used education. Puta. I like the old-fashioned way when you didn't need no stinkin' computers and weird machines. A guy knew when you broke his leg. What's he gonna know after you take his smarts?"

"Times change, Juan." Guido puts the T-bird in gear. The engine grumbles. "We got to change with them."

****

Marilyn kisses Guido's nose and shakes him. He squints through his right eye.

"Wake up, you lazy horse." She shakes him again.

He opens the other eye and wrinkles his forehead.

She flashes her good-morning-love smile, then smacks his face. "Big Willy left you a message on my machine. My machine. I don't like that stuff coming into my house."

Still groggy, Guido sits up. He's naked, his feet hang over the end of the bed, and he untwists the sheets from about his legs. His face stings. How does such a little woman pack such a big wallop?

"You know I'm on call." He extends his hands in apology. "I'm a pro, like a doctor. Wouldn't you like to marry a doctor?"

"Doctor?" She folds her arms and taps her foot. "If you're that busy, then maybe you should forget about the sleep-overs and stay at your own apartment."

Guido stands, yawns, and stretches. His fingers touch the ceiling, and he contorts to be sure she doesn't miss his morning salute. That usually provokes a smile.

Not this time.

"I'm not demanding you become a professional man, Guido, but you need a respectable job. Then we can talk about marriage and even children—that is, if you want this relationship to work."

Guido grimaces. She's been browsing the relationship blogs again, probably filling out those compatibility questionnaires. A respectable job? What with Big Willy's legal problems, he can't disagree. He's not sure what else to say, so he tilts his head and gives her his loveable, lopsided grin.

"I'm serious, Guido." She slips out of her robe and pulls a fresh dress over her head. "You may look like the Incredible Hulk, but you ain't no dumb mountain of muscle. You got a good head on those broad shoulders. And you got a good heart, even if you keep showing off that other stuff." At last she giggles. "Would you put that away and get dressed? I got other things to do today. I got a real job."

He gives her a peck on the cheek. "Yes, Ma'am."

She smiles and strokes his face. Joy refills his heart.

"I put out socks with your shirt and suit." She turns around so he can zip up her dress. "You wore green socks with your blue suit yesterday."

"I did? No biggie." Guido wraps his arms around her. "Who notices?"

"I notice." She wiggles loose. "My friends notice. People know I'm taking care of you now. How you dress reflects on me, so I'll be checking the color of your tie, too. You want breakfast?"

****

Guido arrives at Eddie's Pawn Shop before noon. Juan is elsewhere because Big Willy wants muscle with finesse at Eddie's—and no accidental deaths, not with the Feds nosing about.

Big Willy owns fifty-one percent of Eddie's Pawn Shop. Three years ago, Guido convinced Eddie that partnership with Big Willy would be a good business decision. He didn't enjoy applying the muscle because Eddie is a good guy, but business is business.

Guido ducks beneath the three-globe pawnshop light and into the store. The shop is chromed and spotless. Eddie caters to an elite clientele, who pawn only first class merchandise.

"How's it hanging, Ed."

"Fine, Guido. I'm glad Big Willy sent you. Got a dubious customer last night at closing—not legit if you get my meaning. I convinced the little sneak to come back after noon today. Told him my transfer machine was down until then. He wants to pawn his education."

"What's he pushing, counterfeit Memory Rights Management?"

"No, his MRM tag looks legit, but his ID—he claims to be George Washington Jones—don't match up with the knowledge holder's license of record."

"An education don't make you smart, Eddie, ya know. The idiot likely never registered the purchase of his second-hand education . . . or do you think he stole it? Big Willy don't care if it's stole so long as the MRM is legit. Just keep your books straight in case someone comes round asking."

"I don't think he stole it. I think he's lying about who he is because he wants to hide his assets from somebody. Maybe from Big Willy."

"Hide his assets? You think he's trying to con us?"

"Yeah, he wants to pawn an expensive education, but he don't want much money. Until he redeems the pawn, he wants an inexpensive placeholder education. You know, the fizzy kind the mugwumps rent to wear to a party—makes them feel like they got an opinion. You gonna lean on the jerk to make him talk, Guido?"

"Huh. Let me think a minute. He's leaving an expensive education on deposit while he takes a few bucks and a cheap temporary for a few weeks. Looks to me like we got the better security on the deal. Why don't we do the trade, and we'll let this play out for a day or two to see where this guy takes us. We don't want the Feds running no sting. Should be interesting."

"You're the man, Guido. I'll play it straight up."

"That mirror still a one-way glass to your back room?"

Eddie nods. "I got a couch in there for naps."

"Okay." Guido glances across the street. "I'm gonna get some Chinese take-away and wait for this mug in your back room. You want lunch? I'm buying."

"You're buying? Geeze, I never hear that from that schmuck Juan. He always makes me buy."

"Juan ain't so bad. Just had a tough childhood. Come to think of it, his adulthood ain't going too good neither."

An hour later, Guido finishes off the honey walnut shrimp and eats the last pot sticker. He takes the e-reader from his shirt pocket and slouches onto the couch. The couch don't fit him, and he shifts about until he's comfortable.

He don't feel like finishing his history book or starting the psychology text, just something light. So he picks a sci-fi novel,
Wobbling Star
. He could have had a memory implant for the text of the novel at half the price of reading the electronic copy, but canned memory plants don't never feel the same. Your juices don't pump up the same way when they upload all that crap at once.

Half-way through the chapter, the dweeb enters the pawn shop.

Guido smiles when he recognizes the little ferret. So, Dr. Maurice Jennings is gonna use a cheap educational substitute to defraud Big Willy of his rightful repo. Maybe Juan will get to use his baseball bat after all.

****

Guido tails Jennings for the next couple of days until he's sure the termite don't work for the Feds. He should stop, but he got a sports car out of the first collection effort. Maybe something else will fall his way.

Jennings don't do nothing more interesting than make bets with the neighborhood bookie—a bookie which Big Willy owns. In only two days, Jennings squanders all his pawnshop cash. Jennings is a money sieve, and somehow loose money always flows to Big Willy.

On the third day, Guido thinks about backing off again, but he follows Jennings to the university campus. Classes have already started, but not many students haunt the halls, not when they can buy a canned education implant. For about the same price, they can skip over four or five years of study and still post a degree on their virtual wall.

Although Jennings owns a Ph.D. in chemistry, he passes the science building in favor of mathematics and computer science. Guido quits concealing himself. The dweeb is so self-absorbed he wouldn't notice King Kong on his tail.

Jennings enters the office of Dr. David Shimano, Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Information Science. Guido waits near the door. He reaches for the snoop concealed in his pocket, but shouts erupt from the office, and he hears the conversation fine without the amplifier.

". . . No more money."

"They'll take everything I own, Uncle Dave. Please. . . ." That thin whine had to be Jennings.

"Despite my reservations, I bought you a hundred-thousand-dollar canned education, but you never made it your own. You never earned it. How could you be stupid enough to borrow against it?"

"I couldn't get a job. . . ."

"Because your head is filled with facts that you haven't organized into knowledge. You have recall but no understanding. No. Let them take everything. Start fresh. Come here and study with me from the beginning. Build the knowledge for yourself. I'll get you a scholarship. Do it right this time."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't."

"Because it's too hard? Make the effort, Mo. If you make the effort, you may be astonished at the reward."

"You won't give me the money?"

"I will not. I've made you my only offer."

Jennings storms out and leaves the office door open. Guido doesn't bother to conceal himself, but the dweeb doesn't notice.

Guido decides not to follow Jennings. He knows everything he needs to resolve the repo problem—Jennings is not a shill for the Feds, and Eddie already holds the collateral for the loan—but the old professor's moxie caught his attention. Guido saunters to the open office door and looks in.

Shimano sits behind his desk. He is thin and lanky with jutting cheekbones that give him a skeleton-like appearance. Probably in his late seventies, his lower lip has a blue tinge, and he looks drawn and wasted. His eyes glisten but no tears track his wrinkled cheeks.

"Sorry to disturb you, Prof." Guido grips the door knob. "But I heard a ruckus. You okay?"

Shimano looks up. "I'm fine, young man. How can I help you? Are you a student here?"

Help me? He don't look in shape to help no one. Why would he think I'm a student?

"Naw." Guido fidgets with the knot in his tie. "I wanted to come here when I was a kid, but I couldn't pay the freight. My old man skipped when I was in high school, and I dropped out my senior year to get a job. Too bad, my old lady would've liked her son to have a degree, and my girlfriend wouldn't take it so bad neither."

"You can buy a degree, if that's all you want."

"Ma's dead. That part don't matter now."

"An education is different." The old man folds his hands atop his desk. "An education always matters. We get one whether we want it or not, indeed, whether we deserve it or not. The difficult part is to earn a good education."

"Yeah. I guess so, Prof." What's this old fossil talking about? "You want I should close the door?"

"Please."

"Well, okay then. You take care, hear? If I can do something for you, you let me know." Why had he made such an empty promise? He never promised anything he couldn't deliver.

"Thank you, young man. You too."

Guido nods and closes the door. He stands in the hallway for several minutes, then he pulls his pE-pod. A quick query shows his bank account is in good shape, maybe even good enough shape. He'll need to talk with Marilyn first, but he's sure she'll like any plan that gets him out the collection business, especially with things getting uncomfortable at Big Willy's.

He runs through the possibilities again and then knocks on Shimano's door.

"Come in."

"Excuse me, Prof, but if you have a minute could you tell me how I can take some courses here? I bought a high school degree a couple of years back, but lately I been reading the books they implanted with the degree. Somehow reading fits the pieces together a whole different way."

"An interesting observation, young man." Shimano appears to measure him before a thin smile crosses his face. "Please sit. I will be happy to advise you."

****

"You're serious?" Marilyn steps from the shower. Her toes turn out, and she firmly plants her fists against her hips. "You gave Big Willy your notice?"

Guido nods. She looks formidable even with her wet red hair strung across her face, and her naked body glistening from her shower.

He hands her a towel and then her robe. "I know you want me to quit the collection business." He reaches past her and turns off the shower.

"I do." She wraps her wet hair with the towel and hugs him before she puts on the robe. "I do, honey. But I'm worried. Will Big Willy let you quit?"

"Well, I wanted to give him two weeks notice, and he didn't like that. Then Professor Shimano—"

"Who?"

"Prof over at the university. Anyway, Professor Shimano told me it was too late for me to enroll in college this semester anyway. . . ."

"Wait. You're going to college. When did this all happen?"

"Today. Well, mostly this morning. So anyway, Professor Shimano said he'd give me some books to read and tutor me this fall, but I'd have to make other arrangements for the spring. So I told Big Willy that I could only work for him part-time, 'cause I need study time."

Marilyn folds her arms across her chest. "And what did Big Willy say."

"He offered to lend me money, eighty Gs, to buy a used Ph.D. at a big discount."

"My God, Guido, you didn't take a loan from Big Willy."

"I ain't no Ph.D., but I ain't stupid enough to do that. I did tell him I'd take a pay cut 'cause I'd only be working part-time."

"And he agreed?"

"The Feds keep him occupied these days." Guido smiles. "Besides, who's he got what could persuade me otherwise?"

****

Dr. Shimano rests a hand against his desk to steady himself. "You've finished those last three books in under a month, Guido? You know I plan to discuss them with you?" He smiles, but his thin hands shake, and his lips look bluer than usual.

"They weren't as hard as the first five." Guido shrugs. He enjoys the freedom of no starched collar or tie, but he flexes his neck out of habit. He holds up his electronic scroll. "Physics is tough. You got to play with the formulas and numbers to get a feel for what they mean, what they represent, ya know. I got a long way to go on that."