An xt called stanley, p.19
An XT Called Stanley, page 19
It was all I could do to keep a straight face as I listened to the daily discussion about what we should do with Stanley. Here Stanley was shaking the very foundations of New Hope while Seth’s committee debated whether it was safe to talk to him. After several days’ discussion it was decided that those of us who had tutored Stanley should be extensively tested for latent psychological damage by Jill Stone and her assistants. To facilitate testing we would be injected with various drugs. Rick and I objected strenuously, but it was as though the rest of the committee had gone deaf. Only Max heard us. He argued that testing us was a needless ordeal and an invasion of our privacy. Seth responded by polling some of the Earth-bound members of the committee until he had an impressive majority.
The minority, Max, Rick and I, ate lunch together in the Institute cafeteria. “Rick, what are you complaining about?” Max asked gleefully. “You wanted Seth to run this project for the benefit of all science. And the decision was reached democratically. Don’t you approve of democracy?”
Rick shook his head in a gesture of despair.
“You mean you don’t want a half-wit psychiatrist probing your naked psyche with the latest batch of mind-blowing drugs?”
“I’m not going to submit to it,” Rick said.
“Oh, but you have to,” Max said. “It’s the will of the committee. And if you won’t submit, the committee will just have to conclude that contact with the alien brain has unhinged you. I mean, after all, anyone who doesn’t go along with the commmittee must be mad.”
Max was enjoying our disillusionment with Seth French. Rick had supported Seth’s cause and now he truly regretted it.
“He’s an idiot,” Rick said, shaking his head, “an idiot.”
As soon as I could get away I called Stanley. “If I get interviewed, those phone lines are sure to come out,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Stanley said calmly. “Tomorrow you and all my tutors will be delivered from the hands of Seth’s committee.”
Tomorrow brought Sister Taylor and a lawyer. Sister greeted me and asked where Dr. French was. With pleasure I escorted them to his office. I had hoped to stay and witness the confrontation but Seth took them into his inner office leaving me outside. Later, when there was a meeting of the committee, I was looking forward to an open and frank discussion of the events of the morning, but apparently the democratic process had broken down. It was as if the previous decision had been the product of Max’s, Rick’s and my imagination. When Rick announced that he would not allow himself to be drugged for the sake of psychological testing, Seth looked at him as though he had totally misunderstood the situation. “Rick, there was never any suggestion that you be tested against your will. If you object, naturally your wishes will be respected.”
“Then neither Jean nor I will be tested,” I announced.
Seth nodded.
“Are any of the tutors going to be tested?” Max asked.
“We’re in the process of consulting them,” Seth said.
That evening Stanley called Jean and me at our apartment. Something about the way he was standing made me suspect he was about to ask a favor. ”Would you go on a sight-seeing tour for me?” he asked. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Sure,” Jean said. “But why?”
“I’d like you to put this out in space for me,” Stanley said, holding up what looked like an ordinary rock the size of an apple.
“Isn’t that against regulations?” Jean asked.
“Please,” Stanley said. “This is important.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“You know how parents like you to keep in touch,” Stanley said, looking at Jean. “Well, that’s what this is. It’s a way of telling my people I’ve arrived safely.”
“How does it work?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you. Please, could you just trust me. It’s very important to me. And if anybody ever finds it, they’ll just think they’ve found a rock, a rock with your initials.” Stanley turned the rock so we could see a crude heart carved with our initials.
“The worst that could happen to you is a fine and a lecture on the unauthorized launching of minor satellites.”
Jean and I looked at each other. “All right,” we agreed.
“Thanks,” Stanley said. “An errand boy should be arriving shortly.” With that there was a bumping sound as something was shoved into our package box. Jean and I laughed.
“When you say shortly, you’re not fooling around,” Jean said.
I opened the package box and found the rock Stanley had just shown us and two Gideon Bibles. “What are these for?” I asked, holding up the Bibles. They were about sixteen by ten centimeters and covered in green.
“Those are to pay for the trip,” Stanley explained.
“What?” I said.
“The Bibles have become a sort of black market currency,” Stanley said. “The Gideons had these Bibles specially printed for space workers, but years ago an enterprising group rounded them up and began selling them to people who didn’t want their financial transaction recorded by the New Hope banking establishment. A Bible is worth a week’s food for the two of you. Over on Third Alley there’s a pawn shop that deals in them.”
“How do the Gideons feel about this?” I asked.
Stanley shrugged.
“Well, at least people value them,” Jean said.
At ten o’clock Saturday morning we met a black man wearing a blue uniform in front of the transport office. “Do you want a private tour?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Do you have three Bibles?” he asked.
“Three Bibles,” I said. “We only have two.”
“Not so loud,” he said. “You can get another one on Third Alley.”
“That’s too much,” Jean said. She turned to walk away.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s see them.”
Jean reached in her bag and brought out the Bibles. The pilot locked them in his personal case and led us to his Escort. We climbed down a ladder through a narrow tunnel and finally emerged in the rather cramped cabin of the Escort. It could hold four at most. The pilot checked that we were securely strapped in and then began his dialogue with the traffic controllers. Everything from two to seven was clear, whatever that meant. The plot requested six and glanced casually over his shoulder at Jean and me. Without further comment our incredible roller coaster ride began. Jean grabbed my hand as we fell away from New Hope. Slowly turning we fell away into space. Then it hit us. Like a forehand slam we were shot back at New Hope with incredible force. I closed my eyes and prayed the pilot knew what he was doing. A moment later I looked out and saw only stars. Apparently we had missed New Hope. Jean relaxed her grip on my hand.
“You’re at M-3,” the on-board computer announced. The engine cut out and we were in free fall.
“You’re in free space,” the on-board computer announced.
“That’s a joke,” the pilot quipped. “At least seven stations are tracking our every move.”
Jean and I exchanged a glance but said nothing.
We flew to one of the farming satellites. It was bigger than New Hope, but it had less than a ten thousandth of New Hope’s mass. There was no need to shield corn from cosmic rays and heavy solar primaries. Farming satellites are fragile affairs. The misplaced mass of a harvesting machine can cause a cave out spilling hectares of corn and soilized moon rock into space.
The pilot banked and we floated over a vast field of glassed-in corn. Below us harvesting machines were swallowing up rows of corn plants and leaving behind freshly plowed ground, fertilized with New Hope’s wastes. Ahead of us the plowed ground began to show the green of emerging plants which seemed to grow thicker and taller before our eyes. Still further on the tassels appeared and then we saw the line of harvesting machines looming up in front of us. The vast field of glassed in corn below us was part of a gigantic loop turning slowly in the blazing sun. In two minutes the field had made one revolution. But it took the harvesting machines much longer to work their way around that vast loop. The harvesters were reaping the corn they had sown four months before.
Corn is the most important crop in space. Corn feeds the chickens and turkeys. Corn makes the milk and cheese, the margarine and cooking oil, the soap and lotions, the beer and whiskey, and even the vinegar and aspirin. If the corn crop failed, New Hope would be in big trouble.
We flew on to some of the smaller farming satellites. We saw one where they grew wheat, and one for soy beans, and one where they grew cotton and then processed it into sheets, hand towels, napkins and lab coats for use in space.
The pilot explained that the greatest danger of farming in space was fire. Fire in space is a hundred times more dangerous than fire on Earth. On Earth you can run out of a burning building to get away from the choking smoke, but where can you run to get away from a fire in space? This is why farming and the processing of combustible materials is done in isolated satellites away from New Hope.
Jean asked if we could stop off at the Taylor satellite where they make Taylor cold chests. If you’ve ever used one you know they can keep food cold for weeks using solar power. These cold chests are made in space and then packed by the thousands into large glass spheres for a fiery re-entry and a parachute drop to Earth. If you visit the Taylor satellite you can get a thirty-percent discount. Jean wanted to order one for her brother and his family. After some discussion the pilot agreed to dock there.
Jean checked her bag at the boarding area and when we came back she found the rock Stanley had given us was gone.
“It’s gone,” she said to me without voicing it as we strapped ourselves back into the Escort. The deed was done. The pilot returned us safely to New Hope.
The Wednesday after that weekend, Max insisted on taking Rick, Jean and me out to dinner at the North Star. Max must have called ahead because the headwaiter greeted him by name and ushered us to a table which according to Max had the best view. Jean was ceremoniously given the chair facing the stars and when I started to sit next to her Max stopped me. “You get to sit next to her all the time,” Max said. “Tonight it’s my turn.”
I moved over to the next seat. We ordered drinks and the waiter left us. “Well, Jean, I’m going to miss you,” Max said. “And you too, Bob.”
For a moment I fumbled for something to say and Max imitated my fumbling in jest. “Stanley told me,” Max said. “I’ve written a letter of recommendation for you saying you’re one of the most talented and innovative guys I’ve worked with.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Bob, we’ve had our differences, but you see I’m not such a bad guy.”
When the drinks came Max proposed a toast to Jean and me. With dinner we had a bottle of wine. And when there was a lull in the laughter and conversation that followed, I found it hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago I had considered Max my enemy.
“I wonder what Sister and her lawyer said to Seth?” I asked.
“O to be a fly on the wall in his office,” Jean said.
We laughed.
“Do you think Stanley had anything to do with it?” Rick asked.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “He told me that he’d arrange something.”
“How could he?” Rick asked.
I realized I’d blown Stanley’s secret.
“On the phone,” Max said. “Bob gave Stanley thirty phone lines some months ago. And he still has them.”
CHAPTER VI Freedom
At the termination of New Hope contracts, A3, B4, B5, C6, C7, O8, the last month’s salary will be held in escrow against debts and damage charges. Within six weeks of the termination date stated on the contract the unencumbered funds will be deposited in the account designated by the employee. Those wishing to change this account must go in person to the Personnel Office, Verification and Adjustment Section.
Those terminating their contract prior to the date specified on the contract are required to deposit their entire bank balance or six months’ salary (whichever is less) in an account to be held in escrow against unpaid debts, damage charges and adjustments to wages and living expenses. Normally the unencumbered funds will be deposited in the account designated by the employee within ten weeks of termination of the contract. However, the employee is reminded that in the case of termination by the employee prior to the date specified in the contract the Council of New Hope has the right to hold the escrow account for twenty-six weeks or six weeks beyond the termination date stated in the contract (whichever is sooner).
From letter sent to all employees at New Hope
Jean and I left New Hope. All my money was in escrow and I had no job, but I was happy. In ten days we were getting married and then going to Paris for a week with the money Jean had saved with her frugal habits and extra typing. Stanley assured us that when we got back our problems would be solved. And we believed him.
Now that I was safely hers, Jean could confess her faults. On the trip down she told me she was wealthy.
“My family doesn’t exactly make sails in the basement,” she said. “There are over two hundred employees. My family has been giving me shares in the business since I was two. Now I’m twenty-one I can legally sell them.”
“Are they worth a lot?” I asked.
When she told me what she had and what she thought they would sell for I gulped. At first I was shocked and then a little hurt.
“All this talk of how we’re going to manage, and you’ve been sitting with that in your back pocket,” I said.
“Oh, Bob, you don’t understand. This doesn’t affect us. I’m not going to sell them. I don’t think my family would speak to me if I did. They don’t even pay dividends.”
“All right,” I said moodily.
“Do you want me to give them back?” Jean asked. “Would that make you happy?”
I smiled. “No,” I said. “I’m just surprised.”
“You know,” Jean said, “before I came up to New Hope I was going with a boy, John Philips, who was very interested in the business. We were going to be engaged. My parents liked him, my brother sailed with him in a number of races. They were great friends.”
“What happened?”
“It was fine for a while. He was always very nice to me and considerate. On our second date I told him I wouldn’t go to bed with him and he accepted it. He said he respected me. After a while I began to think that he respected me a little too much. He never tried anything. I started to wonder whether it was me or my family he loved. He spent more time sailing with my brother than with me. Then Elaine Sterling asked me about him. She assumed we were sleeping together. When I told her no she acted very surprised. Then she told me that John had practically raped a friend of hers. That did it. I told him that maybe my parents would consider adopting him.”
“I don’t know,” Jean said after a pause. “He’s not a bad guy. He works in the business and is a friend of the family. It’s just that he didn’t really love me.”
Jean looked at me. “I didn’t know what it was like to have someone love you. That first night you told me you loved me, I was really surprised. I’d told my parents that you were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t have time for women. You were the first person to really come after me. And then when I thought you were fooling around with Karen Miller I wanted to die.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking her hand. And in the silence that followed I promised myself that Jean would never have cause to worry about someone else.
We were approaching Baker Station where we would be packed into a cramped winged shuttle for a fiery re-entry. It’s a tossup between liftoff and re-entry as to which is the most frightening. I knew the angle of entry to the Earth’s atmosphere was crucially important. If the angle is too oblique the shuttle would bounce off the atmosphere back out into space, and if the angle is too sharp we would roast. Jean was not the slightest bit grateful for my explanation of the re-entry problem.
At the Disembarkation Center the doctors congratulated me on my response to the cardiac stress test. I’d gone from a 42 to a 91. This meant I was in the top nine percent for people in my age group. Apparently my workouts on my rowing machine had really benefitted me. I was a lot stronger. I’d gained four kilos while at New Hope. Jean had lost four so we were even.
Jean worked out the cheapest way to Boston. We took the underground, making changes at Denver, Chicago, New York and arriving at last at Boston. It was just about dinner time when Jean’s parents met us at the Boston station. Jean dropped her suitcase and went running when she saw them. By the time I arrived carrying everything, Jean and her mother were in tears. Jean’s father greeted me and relieved me of Jean’s suitcase. I think for a moment I felt guilty. Jean had just gotten home and in nine days I was going to take her away.
That evening Jean’s father asked me about our future plans. I couldn’t very well say that an alien computer had told me not to worry. I had to admit that at present things were a little uncertain. I explained that I had accepted a job at the Matrix Corporation but because I’d been employed at New Hope they hadn’t been able to hire me. I said I expected that would be straightened out and I’d go there or somewhere else.
“Well, don’t you think you ought to get it straightened out?” Jean’s father asked.
I nodded.
“It seems to me you’re sort of rushing things. You’ve both quit your jobs. That’s no way to start a marriage.”
“You don’t understand,” Jean jumped in. “Bob gave up his job to come down with me.”
“You should get things straightened out. You don’t even know where you’re going.”
“We’re going on our honeymoon, Daddy. By then we’ll know.”
“What if you don’t?”
“That’s our problem,” Jean said.
“Look, why don’t you let Bob speak for himself,” he said, turning to me. “I’m not being unreasonable. Surely you’re not going to ask Jean to rush into a marriage when you don’t know what you’re going to do or where.”
