Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc Read online

  Her tone was flat as she asked, “Are you comparing me to a child again?"

  I shrugged and grabbed a six of beer and another six of Dr Pepper in order to restock Stephie's onboard cooler, then headed for the front door and the flitter in my driveway.

  "No offense, Steph. Tell one kid there's money buried in the back yard and he'll grab a shovel and start digging up the whole yard, but tell his older sister and she'll try to figure out why someone would have buried money out there and study the yard so she'll have some idea of where to start digging. Or rather, where to make her little brother start digging."

  "I see. You were comparing me to a child."

  "Sorry ‘bout that, but you asked, didn't you? I tried to give you an answer."

  Could a computer pout?

  It seemed so to me as Stephie rather stiffly said, “Yes, I suppose I did. I'll be more careful with my future questions, Ed."

  Having said that, she disappeared.

  Ah, hell...

  "Don't be that way, Steph. You're just newer at some things than others. That's just the way things are. It isn't a big deal and I don't want you to not ask me something for fear that you'll get an answer that reminds you how young you are. Jeez. Youth isn't a crime, you know. Even extreme youth. How many other two-year-olds can do what you do? Only one, that I know of, and that's Elkor. Relax, lady."

  She made no answer to my attempt to reason her out of her snit and seemed disinclined to initiate conversation as I restocked her cooler.

  "Where do you want to go today, Steph?"

  In a ho-hum, disaffected tone, she said, “I don't really care at the moment, so I'll defer that major decision to someone much older and presumably wiser than me."

  "Cute. Big city or open country? You know, there's nothing to stop you from going places alone when you're bored."

  "I do that sometimes, but it isn't the same. Open country, I guess."

  "How about the Blue Ridge mountains? Haven't been there in a while."

  "Good enough."

  I went back in the house for Tiger, who pretended to need an invitation, of course, and then tried to appear to give the idea due thought and consideration.

  "Get your stripedy little ass in gear if you want to come with us,” I said.

  Tiger gave me his 'oh, well, I guess it can't hurt' routine and said something that caused Elkor to field-generate his cat-carrier. As we approached the flitter, he greeted Stephie and she returned the yowling greeting with one of her own.

  Minutes later, settled in my seat with a Dr Pepper and watching the sky slide past at 40,000 feet, I glanced at the field-generated cat that was Elkor's poppet and the real cat who was Tiger, both of whom were sitting together like dashboard ornaments as far forward in the cabin as Stephie's design would allow. Steph's lovely image appeared next to me and asked what music I'd like during the trip, which only added to the surreal effect of the moment.

  "How about something classical, this trip, Steph? The lady you're named after was fond of Tchaikovsky's violin concertos. Try the one in D, opus 35."

  "I can access three versions by three artists. Do you have a preference?"

  "Itzhak Perlman or Sarah Chang. You pick."

  "Okay,” said Steph, as the music started. “Try to tell me which one I chose."

  "Will do. Gimme a minute."

  Three minutes or so into the music, something about the way the artist handled the piece made me say, “That's Chang."

  Stephie's surprise was very evident. “How did you know?"

  "Sorry, ma'am. My secret. You're too smart for me most of the time, you know. I don't get to surprise you very often."

  "I think you simply made a guess, Ed."

  "A guess? Did I sound as if I was guessing?"

  "Well, no..."

  "Yes, you do think I was guessing. Don't you think us paltry-minded humans can do something as simple as analyzing a bit of music?"

  "Well, of course, Ed. I'm sorry that I..."

  "Gotcha. Hell, yes, I was guessing, and you fell for it."

  "No, I didn't. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings."

  "You were about to fall for it, Steph. You were right on the edge. Don't even try to deny it."

  Tiger sounded off at us. Stephie spoke to him in cat, then said to me, “Tiger thinks we're about to fight, Ed. I'm reassuring him otherwise."

  "He's a cat, so he'll be disappointed, I'll bet. He watched two lizards fight outside the kitchen window for almost an hour the other day."

  The canopy seemed to flicker, then did it again a second later.

  "I'm telling him ... Just a minute, Ed. I'm experiencing a field anomaly."

  "The word 'anomaly' covers a lot of ground, Steph. Can you be more specific?"

  "Not yet."

  "How is the anomaly affecting you?"

  "My fields are..."

  The sentence was left hanging as Steph disappeared, the console went blank, and the flitter began a long fall. The field that ordinarily held me in my seat during odd maneuvers also disappeared, allowing me to free-fall within the cabin as the powerless flitter turned on its side. The patchwork surface of the Earth below began to expand.

  I glanced at Tiger. He, too, was free-falling, and had automatically adjusted himself as if to land on his feet. He looked at me with wide eyes, but made no sound. Elkor was also floating above the dashboard, and that seemed odd to me, along with the fact that none of my Dr Pepper was trying to get out of the bottle, even when I wiggled the bottle enough that the liquid should have escaped.

  I let go of the bottle, watched it for a moment, then said, “It won't work, Steph."

  The fall continued in silence. I pulled myself over the seat backs to reach Tiger and said, “No sweat, kid. She's just messing with me to get even,” as I ruffled his chin, but the motion sent him into a slow spin. I stopped him and turned him back to face me.

  Tiger seemed less than convinced of the truth of my words as the fall continued, but he made no sound. I gathered him to me and let him brace himself against my chest, turning him so that he was looking at me instead of the uprushing planet below the flitter, but after a few moments, he turned his head to look down.

  As Tiger's claws began to dig into my chest a bit, I patted him and said, “It's okay, little guy. Really. Take it easy.” Raising my voice a bit, I said, “Check Tiger, Steph. You're scaring him, and the joke's supposed to be on me."

  The flitter righted itself and Tiger and I were guided to a standing position on the deck and Stephanie's image reappeared in the cabin as my Dr Pepper bottle found its way to my hand. Tiger didn't jump down right away, as he ordinarily would when aboard Steph. I gently disengaged his claws from my shirt and ruffled his ears and chin as I sat down with him.

  "I was monitoring you,” said Steph. “Your heart rate barely increased fifteen percent during twenty thousand feet of falling. Why, Ed?"

  "Details, Steph. Too many things didn't add up. If you'd lost your field, the canopy would have disappeared, but the air pressure never changed. Elkor's field-cat was floating with us. Gravity has no effect on fields, so there was no reason for Elkor's cat to be falling with us unless he wanted it to. Also, you both use broadcast power. What would affect your field would likewise affect his, but he didn't disappear when you did. Then there was the Dr Pepper that wouldn't flow out of the bottle, even with a little extra effort. There was one other thing, too."

  When I didn't immediately say what that one thing was, Stephie asked, “Okay, Ed, what was that one other thing?"

  I said, “Tiger. He was in on it. Even when he began to worry, he kept his little furry mouth shut because he has implicit faith in us."

  Stephie made no reply beyond some cat-noises. Tiger settled into my lap and regarded her image for a moment, then switched his attention to Elkor, who was sitting on the dashboard again. Then Tiger looked up at me. I ruffled his neck and ears.

  Elkor said nothing, regarding Tiger and me in a thoughtful manner. A few minutes later
we were skimming above the snow-covered Blue Ridge parkway at a height of perhaps three hundred feet, still in a state of silence.

  "Hey, Steph?"

  In a tone containing frost, she asked, “Yes?"

  "It would have worked on just about anyone else, except maybe an Amaran."

  "It would have worked on Amarans, too. No flitter has ever crashed."

  "Never? Not even in the early days?"

  "Never,” she said flatly.

  "No Earth aircraft has that kind of record. That's pretty impressive, Steph."

  "Yes,” she said, still in that frosty tone. “I suppose it is."

  While the view was nice for a while, one snow-covered mountain looks much like any other when they're as worn-down as the Blue Ridge chain. Half an hour later we were back at the house. Steph had responded when spoken to during the trip, but hadn't initiated any conversation. I unlocked and opened the front door to let Elkor transport Tiger into the house, then went back to the driveway to talk to Steph.

  "Think back, Steph,” I said, sitting down on the edge of her deck. “Remember when we had to intercept Ellen before she reached Gary on the big ship. You left one bay and entered another in something like three tenths of a second."

  "The maneuver was easily within my operational capabilities."

  "Oh, obviously so, ma'am. Yes, indeed. But at that time, it wasn't within mine. Remember how I reacted to that ride? Isn't that what you wanted earlier?"

  "I suppose it was."

  "Does it make you feel better at this moment to remember that moment?"

  A very small smile had formed on her floating face.

  "You can admit it,” I said. “Go ahead."

  "Yes,” she said. “I suppose it does."

  I stood up and said, “Well, cherish it, lady, because I'll do my best never again to be that startled by something you do. Can you live with that?"

  Her smile grew somewhat larger as she said, “I think I'll manage."

  "Good. I'm going inside now. You're lucky that Tiger didn't water your upholstery, you know. He's a tough, smart little guy, but that was a helluva trick, Steph."

  She looked sheepish enough as she said, “I won't do that again, Ed."

  "You can uncross your fingers, Stephie. Just don't do those things while Tiger's aboard, okay?"

  Her slightly smiling, disembodied face nodded. “Okay."

  Chapter Three

  The phone rang as I entered the house. It was Lynn Harper, calling on her cell phone for directions to the house. Hearing her voice brought an image of her to mind; a short, energetic brunette in her forties who seemed never to stop moving or talking. I doubted that she needed directions and suspected that the call was nothing more than verification that I was home before she detoured for a visit.

  She'd insisted that I call her back before the end of February so that she'd know whether she'd have to use standard methods of looking for a couple of sunken Spanish ships. When I hadn't called her back by February 21st, she called me and made her pitch again, insisting that she should drop by the house to discuss matters, since she'd be going through Spring Hill on her way back to Tampa, anyway.

  She had been very persistent, and I had finally acceded and told her to drop by in the afternoon. I was putting some tools in the garage when a car horn beeped from the street. The short brunette who showed up in a white ‘99 Lexus had a big smile and an image problem. Her 'just us folks' persona wasn't a side of her that had been evident at the party and it seemed rather forced when compared to her moderately exorbitant wardrobe and jewelry.

  "Hello,” she said, getting out of the car. “You don't keep your flitter in your garage?"

  "There's no room in the garage."

  After shaking hands with her, I walked around the car as if admiring it and noted that the license plate was not that of a rental. Lynn tucked her briefcase under her arm rather than carrying it by the handle.

  She glad-handed me again on the way to the front door and she was a little too effusive with compliments about my ‘lovely, lovely house’ and ‘my lovely, lovely neighborhood'. When she spotted Tiger in the kitchen window, he was immediately labeled a ‘lovely, lovely cat'. Everything was just a little too ‘lovely’ to suit me.

  I took her mannerisms as a sign of nervousness or excitement at the prospect of getting a project underway until Tiger came to meet her. He endured her touch and presence only briefly before he excused himself to the back porch. Tiger normally spent a bit more time in coming to his decisions about people and I couldn't remember a time that he hadn't at least stuck around nearby to observe or annoy a visitor, but he seemed to want nothing to do with Lynn Harper.

  Lynn again presented me with her plans to look for treasure in the waters around Florida in only slightly more detail than she had at the party without divulging anything of significance, including the names of the ships. She played a videotape that contained only footage that I'd already seen on the Discover channel and then handed me an expensive-looking prospectus from her self-owned company. When she really began to grate on me, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and called Steph.

  "Treasure hunters can delude themselves, Steph. I was hoping that this woman would be able to guide you toward a better chance of finding something, but she doesn't really strike me as being good partner material. Check salvage records for that area she mentioned and check her out, too. Does her story track?"

  "Checking now, Ed. Why are you so suspicious of her?"

  "To me, she rings like a cracked bell, Steph. She comes on like a hustler. Tiger didn't like her, either, and he's usually ready to soak up any attention he can pry out of anyone. I'll bet that the maps she showed me aren't even of the same part of the ocean that she says she wants to search."

  "Would you happen to have any"—Stephie cleared her artificial throat—"perhaps more substantial reasons for distrusting her?"

  "No. She just reminds me of an overdressed TV evangelist. I think she's all hype."

  "Well, she checks out as having been involved in several search efforts, Ed. Until recently she's been engaged in raising funds for other peoples’ treasure hunts and marketing the results."

  "Only the money ends of things? No actual experience searching for treasure?"

  "There's no record of her being involved in the actual search efforts, just the planning stages, fundraisings, and marketing of treasures. Regarding the areas she's mentioned, I can't find any record of anyone searching or finding anything in any of them. That may only mean that logistical difficulties have ruled out those regions."

  "Doubtful. On a couple of the charts, the water was only nine to twelve fathoms. I guess it's time for her to meet you in person, Steph. I'm going to turn her down for now, but a ride will impress her enough to keep her on tap in case we happen to need her later for anything. One thing, though. I'll pretend to be issuing orders. You pretend to be just a simple computer around Lynn. If she thinks that you're even close to being sentient, she'll try to con you into something."

  When I returned to the living room, I told Lynn that we'd meet Stephanie outside and raised my watch near my face as I said, “Stephanie, come to the house."

  Steph's voice came from my watch. “Yes, sir."

  With a quizzical glance at my watch, Lynn asked, “Is that how you control your flitter? Voice commands through a wristwatch?"

  "Pretty neat, huh?"

  I led the way to the front door with no further explanation. Stephie landed in her usual manner, which is to say that she dropped into view and stopped so quickly that it almost appeared as if she'd materialized a foot or so above my driveway.

  "Lynn, Stephanie. Stephanie, Lynn. Let's get aboard and go for a ride."

  Once we were seated, I raised my watch and said, “Up to ten thousand feet, Stephanie."

  "Yes, sir."

  Steph announced our arrival at that altitude as if she'd been fresh off the assembly line, saying, “We are now at an altitude of ten thousand feet, sir."
/>   "Forward, Stephanie. Speed one hundred miles per hour."

  "Yes, sir."

  Lynn said, “That's all you have to do? Tell it how fast, how high, and how long? It looks as if just about anyone could fly one of these."

  "Just about anyone could, but not this one."

  "Why not this one?"

  I handed her my watch. “Try it."

  Lynn examined at the watch as if looking for a way to turn it on. I leaned toward her and said, “You don't have to press any buttons or turn it on. Stephanie, stop."

  As our forward motion ceased, she said, “Yes, sir."

  Lynn stared in big-eyed nervousness around the flitter. Everyone did that, it seemed. They all expected to fall from the sky when the flitter stopped.

  Sitting straight again, I said, “Now you try it."

  Lynn collected herself enough to raise the watch to her lips and said, “Stephanie, go forward. Uh, like before. One hundred miles per hour."

  Stephanie neither answered her nor moved. Lynn glanced at me, then repeated her command less hesitantly with no better results.

  I leaned toward the watch again and said, “Stephanie, reverse course and return us to the house, same speed and flight path."

  "Yes, sir."

  Stephie instantly turned us around and we headed back. Lynn handed me the watch and I put it back on my wrist.

  "Why didn't it work for me?"

  I said rather flatly, “Because you aren't me. All personal flitters are like that."

  That was truthful enough. Fresh off the factory line, they were like that. After the ride Lynn again pitched her proposal, which basically amounted to her supplying research data and me using Stephie to search the seabed.

  Lynn said, “Look, I know it sounds as if you'll be doing all the real work, but that's why I only want thirty percent of whatever we may find. I'd want a full fifty percent of any royalties from sale of the video footage and such, and I may write a book later, in which case we'll share those proceeds, as well. Are you ready to go to work?"

  "I don't think so,” I said. “A lot of people have wasted a lot of time looking for treasure. I'd hate to become one of them and I do have other commitments."