"One thing hasn't changed," said Lola. "We have to get off-station with this thing as quick as we can. The heat's going to be turned way up. We've still got a chance to turn a profit. The bot's worth something. Let's get someplace where we can cash it in."
Ernie looked her in the eye for a long moment, then shrugged. "OK, you're running the game," he said. "But first things first. What do we do to keep the Fat Chance security from beating down our door?"
She stood and moved quickly to the computer terminal she'd signed off from only a few minutes before. "Like I said, we have to get off-station-and take the bot with us-pronto. Tell you what; you go to the public 'puters in the lobby and do some research on the going price of these robots. Meanwhile, I'll see if I can get us a berth on something headed out-and right now, I'm not particular about destinations. Don't take too long, OK? 'Cause I'm grabbing the first thing I can find, even if we have to leave without our luggage to make it. Got it?"
"Got it," said Ernie. He walked over and patted the robot on the head. "You just rest, of boy, you're gonna be our ticket to Rich Man's Row before it's all over." The robot, still gagged, said nothing.
"Be careful, it might grab you," said Lola, wrinkling her brow.
"Nah, the Asimov circuits won't let it," said Ernie. "Be back in a bit."
"Make it half a bit," said Lola, but Ernie was already out the door. She turned to the terminal and began searching for a ship headed out-out to anywhere.
"Andromatic stands behind its product without reservation, Captain Jester," said the customer service representative with an audible sniff. A name badge, which read Stanton, was visible on his chest. "However, if you will examine your purchase agreement, you will see that customer negligence is excluded. It appears that the android's automatic theft alarms have been turned off by you or your agents."
"The factory default settings on the theft alarms prevented us from using the android as intended," said Phule. "With my initial order, I specified that the robot had to be able to mingle freely with customers in the casino. It was your factory-recommended installation consultant that suggested disabling the alarms in that environment so they wouldn't go off every time some unfamiliar person got too close."
"I am afraid that your consultant-who, I should point out, is an independent contractor and not one of our employees-has given you bad advice," said Stanton. "That is not an authorized modification. If you had read the documentation-"
Phule cut him off. "I did read the documentation," he said. "So did a couple of pretty talented engineers. We all agreed that it was nearly useless. Just for starters, the index is completely inaccurate, and the illustrations look as if they were drawn by somebody who'd never laid eyes on the product."
"Of course," said the customer service rep with an insulted expression, "you can't expect the standard manual to cover all the custom features you ordered. Why, we'd have to write a new manual for every order we filled."
"For what I paid, that doesn't seem an outlandish service to expect," said Phule.
"For what you paid, I'd think you could have detailed one of your soldiers to stay with it and guard it," sneered Stanton.
"My men are legionnaires, not soldiers," Phule corrected the Andromatic representative somewhat testily. "More to the point, my whole reason for acquiring an android double was to convince various people that I was still on Lorelei instead of several parsecs away. I've never found it necessary to walk around with a bodyguard, and if I suddenly appeared to change my routine, it would attract attention. That's exactly what I didn't want."
Stanton shook his head slowly. "Nonetheless, I think we have a clear-cut case of customer negligence here. You must understand, Andromatic cannot take responsibility for unintended uses of our products." He made handwashing gestures.
"I think I need to speak to the manager of customer service," said Phule.
"I am pleased to be able to accommodate you," said Stanton, with a mock bow. "As it happens, I am the manager of customer service."
Phule glared at the vidscreen. "I see," he said. "Let me see if I understand this, then. None of your stock units would do what I wanted a robot double for, so I had to custom-order one that would. But the custom modifications I paid extra for aren't covered in the manual, and the warranty doesn't extend to the uses for which I specifically requested the modifications. My failure to follow instructions I didn't receive constitutes negligence or misuse of the product. Is that about right?"
"That covers most of it, yes," said Stanton with a smirk. "Is there anything else that I can help you with today?"
"Evidently not," said Phule. He'd fallen into very precise diction, which anyone who knew him would have recognized as a very dangerous sign. "However, you might save yourself considerable trouble if you started clearing out your desk as soon as this call is over. I'm going to make sure that Andromatic cleans house, and the first department to get swept out will be customer disservice." He cut the connection abruptly and slumped into his chair.
"Shall I begin acquiring Andromatic shares, sir?" said Beeker, who had watched the entire conversation.
"Check the profitability first," said Phule. "If they're running as sloppy an operation as it looks from here, the shares might be overpriced. I suspect the company can turn a decent profit if it's managed right, but I don't see any reason to pay more than we need to for the privilege of turning it around."
"Perhaps it would be advisable to start rumors to get the price down to a reasonable level," noted Beeker.
"If we have to, sure," said Phule. "But don't put a lot of effort into it. We've got bigger fish to fry-among them, figuring out just who's got the robot and how to get it back."
"I should expect they'll give us the courtesy of a ransom call before long, sir," said Beeker. He opened the cover of his Port-a-Brain computer and began calling up his mail program.
"Possibly," said Phule. "That depends on their reasons for the robbery in the first place. If they're looking to make the most possible mischief for me, they can do a lot better by holding onto the thing than by selling it back to me."
"I fear you're right, sir," said Beeker. He looked at the screen, then continued. "At any rate, there's no word on the android at present. We shall have to pursue other channels."
"Well, pursue away," said Phule. I'm going to go see how Sushi's coming along with his search for the man who robbed that Japanese restaurant. Give me a buzz if there's any useful news."
"Immediately, sir," said Beeker. He turned back to the Port-a-Brain and began his search.
Journal #520
Crises never choose a convenient time to manifest themselves. Of course not; otherwise, they would hardly qualify as crises. So it did not in the least surprise me that the theft of the robot coincided with an impending move by the company. In comparison, the contretemps with the local citizen convinced that he had been robbed by a legionnaire was a trivial matter.
In this, at least, my employer was fortunate enough to have an eminently qualified subordinate to whom he could delegate the job of identifying the robber. Sushi's computer skills were as good as any in the company. But it was his newly acquired status as a Yakuza overlord that gave him access to the information on which to proceed.