Edwin laughed. “Yeah, there’s a technical term for you. Ickies.”
“No, it’s actually a species name.” I smirked in response. “Blame Linus.
Ickies are a kind of flying leech with multiple suckers. I think the name is appropriate.”
Edwin started to look a little green. “Oh, lovely. I might just start a betting pool on whether the colonists take one look around and start screaming at me to take them back.”
“Mmm. But, you know, according to Howard, the Cupid bug is well on
the way to being eradicated. Maybe a drone specifically designed as an ickie-killer will do the trick.”
“Jeez.” Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose. “On the plus side, once I unload, I get to go back to Earth.” He looked up at me and grinned. “You, not so much.”
I responded with one finger.
47. New Village
Bob
September, 2182
Delta Eridani
The Deltan council, including Archimedes and Arnold, watched as almost a hundred Deltan adolescents marched away from camp, yelling insults and challenges at the onlookers. The council members did a creditable job of maintaining straight faces, some even managing to look upset.
When the tail end of the parade disappeared into the bush, Arnold slapped Archimedes on the back and said, “That was great.” He then leaned in close and said, in a low voice that only Archimedes and the spy drone could hear,
“I’m sure bawbe had a hand in it.”
Archimedes’ eyes got wide and he looked very concerned, but Arnold just shook his head and said, “I don’t need to know. I’m just glad it worked.”
Other council members gave Archimedes a nod or a smile as they dispersed.
Marvin and I looked at each other, then began laughing. The worst troublemakers in Camelot, completely convinced that it was their idea, had just marched off to one of the old abandoned village sites to repopulate it.
And Archimedes was getting the credit for thinking up and masterminding the plot. Reverse psychology… not just for humans.
Marvin lost his smile and got a worried expression. “Of course, it fixes the immediate problem, but everything we do seems to have side effects down the road. What if they go to war with Camelot in a few years?”
“Don’t borrow trouble, Marv.” I sighed and sat back. “Sure as hell, something will hit the fan, but let’s worry about it when it happens.”
But he was probably right.
48. Operation
Howard
September 2193
Vulcan
I texted Stéphane for the third time in the last hour. I couldn’t call him anymore, as he’d blocked voice calls from me after my last attempt.
His reply came back within a minute. “Still in surgery. Calm down. Aren’t you supposed to be a computer?”
Okay, that stung. Well, not really, but point taken. I took a deep breath and attempted to relax.
Bridget’s surgery was already running overtime. There was no scenario in which that was a good thing. I’d tried distracting myself with a few of the many projects I had on the go, but I couldn’t maintain concentration.
In desperation I checked in on Bill. Guppy indicated that he was running Bullwinkle, so wouldn’t be responding except in an emergency. I doubted that me freaking out really qualified, so I didn’t bother leaving a message. I had a quick peek at his terraforming blog, but there was nothing new.
I was seriously considering just frame-jacking down, when Stéphane called me.
“Hi Howard. You can stop with the worrying now. She’s out of surgery, and the doctors say it looks positive. The tumor was a little more spread than they expected, so it took longer to excise. But all good.”
I thanked Stéphane, traded some meaningless comments, then hung up. I sat back, took several deep breaths, until I thought that I had it under control.
And without so much as a by-the-way, I leaned forward and started to sob.
Just friends.
* * *
There had been a lot of improvements in medicine since the days of Original Bob, but some things hadn’t changed all that much. Cancer could be nipped in the bud if caught early, but there was no vaccination yet. And the knife
was still often the only effective treatment.
This was unacceptable. What the hell had they been doing for a hundred years? I resolved to look into it when I had a chance.
Meanwhile, Stéphane sat at her bedside. He’d dialed me in through the room phone. While I waited, I sent a quick email to Bill to hurry the hell up with the androids. I knew it wouldn’t help, but it was action of a sort.
Stéphane and I traded an occasional desultory comment, but neither of us was in the mood for more. Finally, he turned to me. “I’m going to stretch and refuel. Some of us still have to eat. I’ll tell them not to come in and hang up the phone on you.” With a nod, he got up, leaving me to watch over Bridget.
If you’ve ever watched someone come out of anesthesia, it’s not like waking up. That can be sexy, under the right circumstances. Bridget looked more like a drowned rat that had just been given CPR. I made a note to myself to keep that observation private.
She finally opened one eye, looked around, and spotted me peering at her from the phone. She squinted, grimaced at me, and said, “Jeez, what do I need to do to get a day off?”
I laughed, then had to override the video image to keep from embarrassing myself. My image froze for a couple of milliseconds—not nearly long enough for her to notice. When I’d recovered control, I grinned at her. “Not to worry, sales are good. This year you can take Christmas off, and even use up some extra coal.”
I was considering what I would say next, when Stéphane walked back in, coffee in hand. Bridget’s face lit up, and Stéphane smiled when he saw she was awake. He exclaimed, “Ma minette!” and pulled up a chair as close to the bed as he could manage. He took her hand, and I ceased to exist for any practical purpose.
How did I miss this?
We made small talk. I don’t remember it. I’m sure I could play back my logs, but why? I made my excuses as soon as I could without appearing to be acting odd, then retreated to my VR.
Right, well, what did I expect? Bridget was a human. An ephemeral. Her plans would include a home, a family, a place in society. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I’d been very carefully avoiding thinking about certain issues.
And one of the issues that had just come into focus was that I was an
outsider. I saw the world through video calls and chat windows and drone cameras. I really shouldn’t have been surprised that something could develop right under my nose.
I materialized a bucket and kicked it as hard as I could. Strangely, it helped.
49. Arrival
Mulder
March 2195
Poseidon (Eta Cassiopeiae)
“Poseidon. Good name.” Marcus shook his head in mock amazement, then took a sip of his coke. “I’ve had a look at your summary and notes. Pretty cool. I really want to see a kraken.”
I smiled in response. “You won’t be disappointed. I promise. Anyway, right now, you’re…”
“I’m just settling into a polar orbit. Monty is about a week away, and should be down to VR tau by now. I’ll ping him.”
Marcus settled more comfortably into his seat and sipped thoughtfully on his straw. For some reason, Marcus had never taken to coffee. He preferred his virtual caffeine in carbonated form. Well, whatever.