Mind Over Ship (15 page)

Mary quickly said, “I promise.”

Georgine looked at Ellen. “You too.”

“All right, I promise,” Ellen said.

“Good. Because this is all very hush-hush. I’ve been going out with this guy off and on for over two years, since before I started working for you. I was pulling duty at a top-secret genomics lab where they were designing
the people of the future.”

“Oooo,” Mary said. “Go on.”

“I can’t divulge much, but I can tell you they’re raising a prototype of a new iterant called a mickey, and they hired me to help socialize him.”

“I’ve never heard of a mickey,” Mary said.

“I told you, Mary. It’s all top secret.”

“What are mickeys designed to do?”

“That’s the most secret part. Mickeys aren’t designed to do anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They’re not in security, the military, bloomjumping, accounting, administration, domestic service, gardening, hospitality, or anything else that iterants do.”

“Then what are they for?”

Georgine giggled. “You won’t believe it.”

“What?” Mary and Ellen chorused.

“Pets. They’re designed to be pets.”

Mary and Ellen were duly astonished. “Human pets?” Mary said. “Don’t we have enough animal pets?”

“Ah, but not like these. Mickeys are small and cuddly and very attentive, and they can
talk
and pretty much take care of themselves. You can go away for a month and not have to worry about them at all.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “Wouldn’t that be like having some guy hanging around the apartment all day, eating all of your food, and never giving you any privacy?”

“Not at all. First, mickeys are really small people and don’t eat very much. And they’re very trainable, like dogs, but independent like cats, and you can train them to behave.”

Mary and Ellen had scores of questions about this new germline, and they talked about it until everyone said they were hungry and they decided to break for lunch. Mary ordered the door to unlock, and immediately the nusses came in. They stopped in amazement to find the three women in bed.

“We’re hungry,” Georgine said. “Take our lunch order.”

“I’ll call an arbeitor to serve you,” the head nuss said.

“Not on your life,” Mary growled. “You will serve us, personally. So write this down.” As Ellen watched without comment, the nuss found a slate, and Mary said, “Bring a cold plate: beef sliced so thin you can see through it, croissants so buttery they smell of clover, bleu cheese from France, feta cheese from Greece, alfalfa sprouts that sprouted within the last hour, baby corn, sliced dill pickles, and black olives stuffed with jalapeños.” She looked at Ellen and Georgine. “That’s what I’m having. What about you guys?”

Georgine laughed. “I’ll have the same, along with baked sourdough crackers with sesame seeds. And little cups of borscht would be nice.”

“Oh, yes, borscht,” Ellen agreed.

“And hummus, not too garlicky, and spinach artichoke dip while you’re at it,” Mary added. “And for dessert, jasmine tea and brownies. That should do it. Got all that?”

The nuss nodded and, together with her sister, left the room.

MARY AND GEORGINE took turns feeding little nibbles of this and that to Ellen while Georgine continued her tale about her mickey pet.

“Just how small are these mickeys?” Mary prompted her.

“I can put mine in my pocket.”

“Impossible!”

“I kid you not.” Georgine took a pickled ear of baby corn from the tray and compared the tiny kernels to Ellen’s fingers. “His fingernails are about this big,” she said, pointing to the smallest kernel.

“And his ears,” she went on, “remind me of Ellen’s.” She tried to touch Ellen’s ear, but the baby hand clamped over it.

“Don’t make fun of my new ears,” she said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Georgine said, tugging the little hand away. “I absolutely adore your ears.”

“They look ridiculous.”

The evangelines laughed. “You’re crazy. They do not,” Mary assured her. “Well, maybe only a little, but give them time.”

“Look here, Mary,” Georgine said. “What do you call this part of the ear, the flappy part?”

“The lobe?”

“No, that’s the part at the bottom.” She tugged Ellen’s earlobe. “The flappy part is called the pinna. I looked it up. Doesn’t she have the most darling pinna?”

“Yes, so fresh. Like a dried apricot.”

“My mickey’s looks just the same!”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. And look here.” She pushed Ellen’s pinna forward to expose the back of her ear. “Most people’s ears—our type included—join to the scalp with just a crease of skin. But Ellen’s has this little like valley area. That’s very rare.”

“What do you call that?”

“I don’t know. I looked it up but couldn’t find it, so I coined my own word. I call it a runnel.”

“A runnel, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“I think runnel is a perfect word.”

“My mickey has runnels too!”

“It’s not fair!”

“I know. I can’t get over it. Sometimes I just look at his runnels for hours while he’s sleeping. But do you know what I really like to do?”

“I’m dying to know.”

“Would you really like to know, Mary?”

“Tell me this instant!”

“What about you, Ellen?”

The woman/child nodded.

“I’ll show you. I like to push his pinna forward like this, exposing the runnel like this, and—” She leaned over and kissed Ellen behind the ear. Ellen closed her eyes and smiled.

“Oh, my God, Georgine, can I try it?”

“Be my guest.”

Mary leaned over Ellen’s large head and kissed her behind her tiny ear and lingered to inhale the doughy scent of her baby skin.

AFTER LUNCH, THE three of them felt like watching a vid or something. They agreed that they didn’t want to watch the novelas that their Leenas were in or any of Burning Daylight’s pictures. In fact, they wanted
to watch an oldie, something pre-holo, and they settled on the flatscreen classic
Yurek Rutz and the Long Lake Fisherwoman
. It featured a trained squirrel named Pepe who bossed the main character around, much like Georgine’s mickey tried to boss her, and it was funnier than any of them remembered.

ELLEN WAS ASLEEP when Cyndee arrived to relieve them. “Good job, Mary,” she whispered. “Good job, Georgine.” She motioned for them to join her in the hallway. “Clarity is holoing in the Map Room. She wants to talk to us.”

“What about?” Georgine said.

“I don’t know. She wanted to wait until we were all together.”

In the Map Room, Ellen’s business partner stood before the ceiling-high globe of Mars. She turned when they entered and zoomed over to them. “Thank you for taking the time,” she said. “How’s Ellen? Those snotty new nurses won’t tell me a thing.”

“She’s been through a rough patch,” Mary said, “but she’ll be all right.”

“Good, good. I’m so glad you three are still on the job. I’m almost afraid to call her in case she tries to quit the business again. Nurse Eisner was keeping me updated, but now she’s gone.”

“I’ll tell the new head nurse to keep you informed.”

“Thank you, Mary, and welcome back. How’s Fred?”

“Fine. He’s fine.” Mary went to the chart table and took a seat. Georgine gave Clarity a look, and they and Cyndee went over to join her.

“Did you have some Leena business for us or something?” Cyndee said.

“Yes, in fact, I do. Before holoing here, I received a call from E-P at E-Pluribus. It wants to purchase two Leenas for its in-house Academy, and I wanted to run it by you before I agreed to anything.”

The evangelines exchanged a glance, and Mary said, “Why? Except for the three Leenas you gave us outright, you own the whole issue. Why ask us?”

Georgine added, “The E-Pluribus Academy is pretty prestigious. What’s wrong with the offer?”

“Nothing on the surface,” Clarity said. “If we received a similar offer for any of our other sims, we’d be thrilled. But the Leena line is a special case. With two Leena units, E-Pluribus would be able to reverse-engineer the character’s entire profile. In effect, I’d be handing them the Leenas’ entire slice cascade code.”

Georgine said, “So? Doesn’t that apply to any sims you sell to them as well?”

“Yes, but we use trained actors for our characters. Not to say you girls didn’t give brilliant performances. You did, but in the final analysis, we cast you being yourselves. A trained actor, on the other hand, has extraordinary control in the casting process. She can wall off, so to speak, the more private areas of her psyche and allow only the performance to be captured. You three didn’t have that kind of control. Who knows what sort of personal baggage might have transferred to the sims? I wanted you to know that before agreeing to the deal.”

The evangelines mulled over the information, and Mary said, “Our genotype has only been around for thirty years. We don’t even have that much baggage.” Georgine snickered, and Mary added, “Speaking for myself, at least. I don’t know about Georgine and Cyndee, but I don’t see the harm. It’s no greater an invasion of privacy than sitting for one of the E-Pluribus preference polling sessions, which a lot of ’leens did when we were down on our luck.”

“That’s right,” Georgine said. “Our type was on the brink of collapse before the clinic thing. I know that Mary and Cyndee don’t consider themselves heroes—that distinction goes to Alex, Renata, and Hattie—but their actions did put us in the headlines, and your gift of the Leena royalties to the Sisterhood has created financial security for our whole germline. I, for one, wouldn’t want to stand in the way of the Leenas being inducted into the
Academy
.”

“Neither would I,” Mary and Cyndee said.

Nicholas appeared sitting in the middle of her Lazy-Acres bed, but before he could get a word out, Zoranna said, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Nicholas ignored her. “I can understand your feelings right now, Zoe, but we’re in crisis mode, and we must discuss strategy. It would seem that Singh and Jaspersen coordinated their actions to coincide with the Capias World’s rollout in the USNA market. And the labor shakeup at Trailing Earth is spinning out of control.”

“You handle things,” Zoranna said, pulling the covers to her chin. “Leave me out of it.”

“I’d love to, but I need your help. I need you to call Starke again to find out what caused her rash decision to dump us. Starke Enterprises and Applied People have always been on good terms.”

“Then call Cabinet and ask it.”

“I already have. Cabinet says it was entirely Ellen’s decision; she didn’t even consult with it. You must call Ellen.”

“You already know she won’t take my call.”

“Try again, and remember that our employees are counting on you, Zoe. They’re mystified about what’s going on. They’re worried. They need to know that you’re still in charge, that you’re working to correct the problem. Look here.”

The Warm Puppy, Uncle Homer, appeared on the bed next to him. It walked in a tight circle on the bedspread, pausing every few steps to sit and scratch its hindquarters, which were denuded of hair. Its exposed skin was red and raw with mange and crisscrossed with bloody scratch marks. It scratched itself so vigorously it yelped in pain.

“That’s disgusting,” Zoranna said. “Why would you show that to me, Nick? Take it away.”

The dog vanished. “Actually, the situation is even worse than it looks,” Nicholas replied.

“I don’t care. Don’t ever show that to me again. Is that clear, mentar?”

“Perfectly.”

Zoranna plumped her pillows and turned her back to him. “If you want my input, give me hard data. Numbers, that’s what I want, not your Warm Puppy crap.”

“Hard data? You?” Nicholas rudely opened a dataframe in front of her face. “Here’s your hard data.”

“Not here,” Zoranna said, flinging off the covers and sitting up in bed. “I feel like a massage. Order me a belinda.”

ZORANNA’S BATHROOM WAS larger than her bedroom. Besides the spa, there was a gell stall, sauna, and a softstone slab. The floor and walls were tiled in natural, pink-and-white marble. A sheet of water ran down one wall and collected in a little koi pool. The high cathedral ceiling was topped with a glassine vault under which neon-colored chickadees built their nests. Zoranna was already lying nude on the cool slab when the door whisked open and the light tread of slippered feet crossed the floor.

“Good afternoon, myr. My name is Irene.”

Without looking up, Zoranna said, “I’m tense, Irene. Try to loosen me up.”

“Yes, myr.”

The sound of a bottle of body oil being opened, of vigorous hand wringing. “I’m just warming up my hands, myr.”

“I know that, Irene. You don’t need to give me a play-by-play.”