“I’m not acting guilty,” I protested, and made a show of clomping down the stairs like an AI without a care in the world. “Why did you call me?”

  “Paul is coming over to get a quote for some booklets. It’s a big job, so I was hoping you’d sit in and give me some pointers.”

  “I take it Pffift isn’t back from the tradeshow yet.”

  “I would have asked you even if he was,” she said, but I could tell from the slight shift of the tendons under the skin of her neck that she was crossing her fingers behind her back. Then she held up her hand to stop me from entering the café, and added, “Try not to act weird when the kids thank you for your gifts.”

  I suspected she was just changing the subject, but I had to ask anyway. “What do you mean, weird?”

  “You know, like joking that they can pay you back by doing chores around the café for the next four years.”

  “It never even occurred to me,” I lied, disappointed to hear that nobody appreciated my sense of humor. “Are you sure that Naomi’s parents aren’t angry about the pony? It’s a big responsibility, and they eat quite a bit.”

  “Nobody gets mad about being given a free pony, at least, not on Reservation,” she told me. “I just hope that Naomi doesn’t spend so much time riding and taking care of it that she neglects her schoolwork.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that part. It would be a shame if she quit your business when you have all this work coming in.”

  “That won’t be an issue, Mark. There’s plenty of time in the day, it’s just a matter of how kids want to spend it. Working and making money like an adult is a huge attraction, but you give a girl her age a choice between ponies and algebra homework? I know which one I would have chosen.”

  “You grew up in an apartment in a public housing project and I’ll bet you never saw a pony in real life before we came here.”

  “What difference does that make? Anyway, how did you even know she was saving to buy Yitzhak’s pony?”

  “I have my sources,” I said, trying to sound mysterious.

  “So you had Bob investigate her,” eBeth surmised.

  I stood on my right to remain silent and followed her into the café. It was mid-afternoon and the large dining room was at full capacity. In addition to a section of the tables inside, Athena was handling the overflow seated at the picnic benches in the backyard, which she had dubbed ‘The Garden Room’, while Delilah frequently stuck her head out the front door to check if the customers at the two small tables on the veranda needed anything. It was good business was booming because that trained pony cost even more than the professional-grade woodblock engraver’s tools I’d bought for Monos.

  “It’s fortunate I finished processing that last batch of tourists early because you’re seriously short on help,” Sue said to me as I slipped in behind the bar to take over. “At least we’re getting some use out of the big espresso machine.”

  “Thanks for filling in. I’ve been trying to find help, but between Kim and Justin hiring for their mail-order operation and Paul adding more manufacturing space to his business practically every day, there’s just nobody left in the area who wants to wait tables or make drinks.”

  “You might raise the wages,” Sue suggested. “Kim pays a silver a day with free medical benefits, and Paul pays ten silver a week, plus profit sharing.”

  “Providing medical help is a bonus for Kim, it’s what she likes doing, and working for Paul is like working for an Internet start-up back on Earth. He gets the employees so excited that they’re all putting in eighty and ninety hours a week. Besides, my employees get tips, and when it’s this busy, I’ll bet the waitresses are tripling their base pay.”

  “Stacey can fill in for me running the office between taking tour groups to Earth, but I’m going to be away until the end of the summer. I’m not sure you realize how much time I spend baking for the café and filling in when you’re short-handed.”

  I almost asked her if her trip was really that important but caught myself at the last second. I’d gone a couple hundred years without seeing Sue more than a handful of times before she had herself assigned to my Observer team on Earth. If the number of loose ends I’d left dangling around the galaxy during that period were any guide, I’m sure she had some cleanup of her own to do.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any money?” I asked her. “At least let me give you the code for my Library account in case you get back there and find yourself short.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mark, and I’m sure I have more in my Library account than you and the rest of the team combined. I know you’re only marrying me for my wealth.”

  “That’s not—” I began to protest before I realized she was laughing at me. How eBeth could accuse me of having a weird sense of humor while not saying anything about Sue and her marriage jokes was beyond me. I made a show of checking the order slates to regain my dignity, and started on a cappuccino.

  By the time I caught up and washed the dishes in the bar sink, Paul had arrived. I didn’t want to leave the two waitresses without a barista or impose on Sue again, so I suggested to eBeth that we have our meeting at the bar.

  “Give me the usual,” Paul said, placing a valise I’d never seen before on the bar and taking his seat. “eBeth tells me you’ve joined the business.”

  “As a consultant,” the girl said hastily. “Unpaid.”

  I poured my team’s technical expert a short glass of the single malt I imported specially from Earth for him and gave eBeth an orange juice. “So what’s the new business, Paul?”

  “Licensing. Without patent protection, there’s no point in building a giant factory, and Stacey told me that she doesn’t want to see this village turned into a manufacturing city like some of the places she takes the locals on her Earth tours.”

  “I don’t understand. Without patent protection, why would anybody pay for a license?”

  “I’m not going to license the inventions, Mark, I’m going to license operators. We’ve been training boiler firemen informally for the last year and Peter suggested making a business of it. That means prep books, test sheets, and certificates.”

  “Have you run this past the guild?” I asked.

  “What guild? The closest thing to a supervisory body on this planet is the board of the Engineer’s Journal, and the only one of their magazines that even touches on steam is the edition for mill engineers.”

  “And they’re focused almost entirely on water power,” I confirmed, having subscribed to the magazine myself. “So you’re going to set up an independent certification school?”

  “Why not? Half of the home owners around here have been adding rooms to their houses to board people coming for the tourist school, and there are two new rooming houses going up in the village, if you haven’t noticed. I thought I was going to have to build a dormitory, but I’d rather spread the wealth and not get stuck playing company town. It’s like you said a couple of months ago. Just because these people are open to change doesn’t mean we should shove it down their throats. We should do our best to make sure that whatever we leave behind when we move on is self-sustainable.”

  “Test prep books are perfect for us,” eBeth said happily. “I don’t know if you’ll actually want to print test sheets because the setup is expensive and you won’t want to use the same ones over and over again.”

  “Why not?” Paul and I asked at the same time.

  “Because people cheat,” eBeth told us. “It’s not just an Earth thing, either. Think about it. If you had a friend taking a test that you had already passed, and you knew that the questions hadn’t change, wouldn’t you share?”

  “I’d teach my friend enough to pass the test without cheating,” Paul said, and I nodded my agreement.

  “Humans don’t all have your capacity for learning,” the girl said seriously. “I’ve noticed that about you guys. You never look at a problem and ask for help. You just dig in and start working.”

  “I ask for your help with Sue all the time,” I reminded her.

  “That’s different. All males are clueless about what females want.”

  “It’s just our encounter suits that—” I began, but eBeth hadn’t finished yet.

  “For you, acquiring knowledge is about clearing enough storage space if you run out,” she continued. “It took me six months just to learn enough New Aramaic to get by, and after two years, I’m still not fluent. How long did it take you?”

  “You know languages are a hobby with me,” I said, feeling oddly embarrassed.

  “And you?” eBeth demanded of Paul.

  “I just downloaded the vocabulary and syntax from him,” my oldest friend said, throwing me under the bus. “How about certificates? Are you printing in color yet?”

  The curveball threw eBeth for a loop. “We’ve only printed black so far.”

  “A letterpress isn’t a laser printer or an inkjet, eBeth,” I said, jumping on the opportunity to change the subject. “It will print whatever color ink you use.”

  “I guess we’ve only bought black so far.”

  “Certificates and diplomas usually use multiple colors,” Paul informed her. “With your press, that means running the same sheets again with new ink after swapping in the new type or woodcut.”

  “That’s not a problem,” she said. “Bob’s doing that now to print advertising on the back of the necktie instructions. He’ll just have to put the paper in with the same side up.”

  “Arrrrgh,” a boy’s voice cried in anguish, and all conversation in the café came to a sudden stop. The only remaining sounds were the regular mechanical whirrs and clunks from the letterpress.

  “It’s alright,” Naomi called out immediately. “He didn’t cut himself. It’s just the tail.”

  “Just the tail?” Monos cried indignantly. “I’ve been carving this pony all afternoon, and now his tail isn’t attached to his butt.”

  “Bring it over here,” I told him as a dozen conversations picked up again. “And bring the tools you’re using as well.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for the pony, Mr. Ai,” Naomi said as soon as the two of them reached the bar. “I’m going to keep saving so I can pay you back if you change your mind. You really didn’t have to buy me a present just because you gave Monos those tools.”

  eBeth glared at me over the girl’s shoulder, so I suppressed the urge to pretend I was accepting her offer of reimbursement.

  “It’s my pleasure, Naomi. Let me see that block, Monos.”

  “Here, and what she said.”

  I examined the woodcutting and found myself as impressed by the boy’s artistic ability as by his carving skill. “This isn’t a problem, Monos. We just have to cut out a small wedge where you slipped, drive in a plug, and you’ll be able to shave that down to match.” I inspected the tools and paused on the gouge that matched the width of the unintended amputation of the pony’s tail. “Is this your favorite gouge?” I asked, testing the sharpness on my thumb.

  “He uses it for everything,” Naomi interjected.

  “We need to find you a contoured sharpening stone for honing the gouge before you use it, and I’ll make up a leather cylinder for stropping as well,” I told the boy. “The sharper you keep your tools, the less likely they’ll catch the grain or a flaw in the wood and make a sudden turn on you.”

  “What’s the difference between sharpening, honing and stropping?”

  “Honing is just sharpening with a fine stone,” Paul explained.

  “Don’t listen to him, he’s a machinist,” I said. “Honing maintains the cutting edge while sharpening removes steel to create a new edge. Stropping is more like polishing, and if you’re using the same tool for hours, you should stop from time to time and polish the edge.”

  “You’re getting to be a real mentor,” eBeth complimented me.

  I actually froze for a moment, my mouth agape.

  “A mentor carries extra significance for AI,” Paul explained to her. “It can imply parentage.”

  “Do you mean that Mark’s mentor is actually his father?” the girl demanded.

  “What did I miss?” Sue asked, slipping past the waitress station and setting a tray of cookies on the bar for the children. “That’s a lovely pony, Monos. I look forward to seeing it printed.”

  “Mr. Ai is going to help me fix the tail,” the boy told her. “eBeth says that he’s my mentor.”

  “And how’s he doing so far?” Sue asked without batting an eye.

  “He’s pretty good,” Monos admitted. “He bought me all these tools and gave Naomi a pony. We’re going to print invitations for her birthday party with a pony on them.”

  “Why don’t you finish putting the barn in the background and then we’ll do the repair,” I suggested. The boy nodded his agreement, and after gathering up his tools and the large woodblock with the girl’s help, the two of them headed back to their table next to the letterpress.

  “Nobody answered my question,” eBeth said, pointing a finger at me. “The first time I met your mentor on Earth, he introduced himself as your father, or the closest thing to it.”

  “And I told you he was my mentor. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, and the concept of fatherhood doesn’t mean the same thing with artificial intelligence as it does for biological reproduction.”

  “So do you share programming or something?”

  “It’s not that simple, eBeth, and programming, by its very definition, can never lead to sentience. Some robots have programming so sophisticated that they can outperform people at any task you set them, but they would never choose to create something new of their own accord.”

  “Like some of the worlds on the portal system set up by the Originals where the robot makers have died off and the robots couldn’t evolve.”

  “Exactly. Programmed behavior is just that. The League uses the term ‘artificial intelligence’ to denote sentient entities that weren’t born of biological reproduction. Back on Earth, your people use artificial intelligence to describe computer programs that do anything which was once thought impossible, like understanding human speech, playing chess, or driving a car.”

  “But did your mentor help to create you?” eBeth persisted.

  “You can ask the next time you see him,” I told her.

  “Hi, Mark,” an attractive middle-aged woman said, taking the stool next to the waitress station. “My niece says she’s making money hand-over-foot.”

  I flashed a triumphant look at Sue before replying to Delilah’s aunt.

  “Can I get you anything, Lilith, or are you here to see Bob?”

  “Both,” she said. “I’ll have an espresso, and then I’m taking him out to dinner as soon as this one lets him off work.”

  “He can leave whenever you want,” eBeth told her generously. “We use time sheets.”

  Fifteen

  Despite all of my previous promises to myself, at the last minute, standing in front of the second floor closet, I found myself asking Sue, “Are you sure you have to go?”

  “It’s only for the rest of the summer, Mark. I’ll be back in less than two months.”

  “How am I going to run the travel agency and the café without you?”

  “Helen is here and she’s a better baker than I am. She has my latest memories from our portal business, and Stacey can help out when she’s not leading a tour group on Earth.”

  “Stop whining, Mark,” eBeth said. “Don’t you want Sue to leave with a positive impression?”

  “I thought it over and I don’t want her to leave at all,” I whined.

  “Keep him out of trouble, eBeth, and don’t let him spend all of his savings on being mayor,” Sue said. Then she gave me a quick kiss on the lips and vanished through the portal with her single rollaway. My second-in-command had always been a good packer.

  “That was pathetic,” eBeth said, closing the closet door and shooing me away towards the stairs. “Even Spot was embarrassed.”

  I looked over at the Archmage, who had come upstairs to see Sue off, and he nodded his agreement. My shoulders slumped.

  “It’s just that she’s never left me before.”

  “No, you always leave her,” eBeth said. “Like every month when you go on one of your scouting missions and she doesn’t know if you’ll come back in one piece.”

  “It’s not the same,” I protested. “That’s my job.”

  Spot snorted and headed back downstairs, but eBeth stood waiting for me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Sue told me to keep you out of trouble and I’ve decided that you’re acting too flaky to leave by yourself. You’ll probably go in the bedroom and fondle her clothes or something weird like that.”

  “You wait until Peter takes off somewhere for two months and leaves you behind,” I grumbled, allowing myself to be herded down the stairs. “We’ll see how you like it.”

  “He’ll never do that because I’ll kill him first. Come on. Let’s check the suggestion box.”

  “Do we have to?” I was beginning to see how whining got to be a habit with some people. It seemed to create a negative feedback loop that led to an odd feeling of satisfaction. I made a note to investigate later.

  “It will take your mind off of Sue,” eBeth told me firmly. When we reached the foot of the stairs, I stuck my arm out the front door and retrieved the “Suggestions for the mayor” box from its position of honor next to the boot scraper that helped reduce the mud tracked in during bad weather. Then I joined eBeth in the café, where she had taken over the table nearest to the printing press to supervise her business empire.

  “Morning, Bob,” I greeted the ex-policeman, who was pumping away on the treadle. “Still printing ads on the backs of our tie instructions?”

  “Finished that job yesterday. I’ve moved on to Paul’s first test-prep book for boiler firemen. It’s interesting stuff, but I’d hate to be standing next to one if I did the math wrong and it blew up.”

  “Bob can help with the suggestions,” eBeth said. “He’s an expert in municipal government.”

  “I put in my time,” he allowed modestly. “What’s the problem?”

 

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