Authors: Pamela Foland
Annette was shocked, she hadn’t been aware that programs were permitted to chose their assignments. Even her experience with Tawny hadn’t changed Annette’s belief that programs were tools not individuals. Tawny had been the exception proving the rule. “I just didn’t think you. . . I moved her from Corrine Dayton’s old room.
Tawny, the room’s program had been quite outspoken.
After her you were just not anything fancy.”
“I know a great deal about Tawny. She is quite famous in electronic circles. All programs hear tales of the day she avoided her own erasure, and of her many feats of bravery and independence. I will have you know that I am her fifth generation descendant! Central Computer told me I shared many algorithms and lines of code with Tawny. Which is in part why it projected a 85 percent chance of my erasure should I go into the personnel fields. That projection is part of my concern.”
Annette was again surprised, “You’re worried that I’d have you erased?”
“It has been nearly a month and you still call me Room, I cannot help but calculate the probability that you dislike me.” The room almost whined.
Annette finally found the ring box holding the remote pin, inside was a small circular pin made of gold with a tiny crystal lens in the center. She thought about it, the program had been discouraged from following its chosen field of service. Annette couldn’t help but see the similarities. “If it’ll help I’ll name you.”
“It would help my confidence a great deal.”
Annette stood silently thinking, a knock sounded on the door. She’d almost forgotten her purpose in returning to the room. She put the pin on. Possible names rolled through her head, each feeling wrong. Finally, Annette slid to thinking of her own goals, like someday becoming a prime factor. That was the extent of her hopes. While it was customary to be reassigned a more experienced personal data organization program on becoming a factor Annette decided she would take this one, and the computer hopefully would be encouraged by the thought.
“I’ll call you Prima, because someday I’ll be a prime factor and you’ll still be my program.”
“Do not joke with me, I know I will have to go through many more trainees before such a thing would happen!” The program answered.
“I mean it, I’ve already switched programs once! I’m not going to do it again,” Annette replied as the door rattled again.
“If you say so.”
Annette nodded emphatically, and stepped up to the door it hissed open and Scope stood waiting with a canvas bag in each hand. “Here, you’ll need it.”
Annette took possession of the bag Scope offered, and stepped out into the hall.
“I know just the shop you need to see!” Scope said with a smile.
Annette was hesitant to trust the smile, it looked too devious. She wasn’t sure whether or not Scope actually had Annette’s interests at heart. It wasn’t impossible that one of Carl’s friends might want to poke fun, it had already happened once. This time though Annette might have to stick up for herself.
Popper and Net were waiting in the transport booth when Scope and Annette left the hallway. “Come on Scope! I want to shop!” Popper whined. Scope joined them quickly Annette contemplated taking the long way, she wasn’t eager for the icy vertigo that would come with a trip through the transport system. Scope reached a hand out and reeled Annette in by the arm. Annette heard the tap of the activation key and her mind stretched from one booth to another as the computer in control routed them instantaneously from their quarters to the faux outdoor environment of the main living levels.
Annette arrived nauseous. Scope yanked her by the arm out of the booth, slightly dislodging Annette’s glasses. Annette reset them quickly, half blinded by the normal illumination. The other girls shoved her from behind, to hurry her following of Scope.
Annette was not having fun.
Scope stopped short in front of a shop displaying clothing which seemed to come in every possible shade of violet with black and white patterning though muted somehow Annette couldn’t understand. She looked up at the sign, “Junea’s Clothes.” She quickly looked back at the outfits, surprised since she otherwise recognized the shop as one which sold exclusively white outfits. “When did Junea start selling colored clothes?”
Scope laughed harshly, “They’ve always been those colors. You just couldn’t see them. You were blind as well as
deaf.” Annette didn’t have to search for any sub-text in that statement. There was definite hostility.
“Don’t mind Scope, Annette,” Net quickly popped up with, “She’s instinctively seeking to be the alpha-female briaunti. She’s soon to metamorphose. That makes you edgy from what I understand, me I’m just a paxian. We aren’t subject to your briauntish hormonal love-hate fests.”
Scope scowled, “I’m not hormonal! I just don’t know why she has suddenly become a part of the group. I mean, are
we all just supposed to thank her for butting her nose in?” Annette suddenly felt like an unwanted, ugly stepchild.
“Scope!” Popper shouted.
“Whatever,” Scope mumbled. The scene was beginning to draw the attention of passers by. Annette started to blush, but indignance kicked in instead.
Annette cleared her throat and spoke softly, but loudly enough that Scope could catch it, “Scope, since Net seems to be correct in her assessment, and you seem concerned about my place in the group why not allow me to put forth some perspective. I wanted to become a factor. The head of factor training said no. I didn’t like his perspective. Now he is no longer head of factor training. And I didn’t have to shout or gripe or sulk to get my way. I just proved myself. If you really want to start a conflict with me then think about the last guy first.”
Scope’s eyes opened wide, and she blinked several times,
“Man, I didn’t see that coming!” The tension drained off, and Scope began to radiate a sort of resigned acceptance.
Net smiled and nodded. Popper spoke, “I like her! Nobody will see her coming, if Scope can’t!”
“Chavez certainly didn’t, “ Annette added.
Scope swung her shopping bag, “Are we going to find her some outfits or are we going to stand around talking all day?”
- - - - - - - - - -
Yllera awoke, still dreaming. She was trapped in a small moist space. The air was good but it smelled old. An orange- red light filtered through the walls of her prison. She had no room to move and strands of a rubbery substance clung to different parts of her body. She could neither see nor feel clothing. There wasn’t even a dim memory of how she got there, and Yllera quickly despaired of getting out.
She pounded her clenched fists against the sides, making only the smallest of rapping sounds.
Suddenly a harder tapping on the top shook her world. Yllera tapped again. She tried to shout for help but not even a faint croon came from her throat. She tried to speak, nothing. She tried to whisper all that happened was that her mouth moved.
She tried to scream but ended up coughing up mucous instead. Her world shook again and she heard voices faintly calling her name.
“Yllera?” It sounded like Max, but how could that be?
She kicked her right foot. It sprang forward with enough momentum to crack its way through her prison. Cool fresh air rushed in, displacing the thick smells. That much freedom enticed her other foot to kick. It met with similar success. Yllera maneuvered her hands over her chest to try to push out from there. She pressed with all her strength, all of her reserves and managed a slight crack.
It brought to Yllera’s mind an image of a baby bird trying to force its way out of its shell.
She struggled harder trying to find leverage and air to fuel her exertions.
“Hold on, let me help,” Clearly Max’s voice sounded through the crack in the shell.
Male fingers pried between the two sides of the crack exerting pressure. A loud crack sounded and the whole top of the shell fell away. Yllera saw
Max clearly, and was instantly embarrassed by her own nakedness. He blinked at her and quickly turned away.
“That is you isn’t it Yllera?” He asked over his shoulder, still averting his eyes.
Yllera fumbled to find something to cover herself with, but there was nothing but transparent strands of rubbery dried mucous. She also fumbled, trying to answer him, with no more success. Her voice was nowhere to be found and he didn’t seem to hear her thoughts. Yllera tried to sit up but a piece of the rubbery mucous had dried attached both to her back and the bottom of the shell. Her muscles were too weak to fight it and she was snapped backwards hard.
Max still stood with his back to her, no help offered and she couldn’t ask. The situation was stuck far from humor.
At last Tina entered the scene, with a large towel and a pile of very loose white clothing. Tina made eye contact with Yllera and almost dropped her burdens from the abruptness of her stop.
“Yllera?” Tina asked regaining her composure and handing Max the clothes.
Yllera nodded.
“This is a surprise,” Tina said kneeling to cover Yllera, shell and all, with the towel. Her next move was to retrieve an all purpose scanner from her pocket.
Tina waved the scanner over Yllera then made strange faces at the results it showed. “You can’t talk can you. Your vocal cords have been slightly preempted by whatever it is that has happened to you. The good news is that you will probably grow back into your voice. The bad news is that it will could take a few years. Can you read me telepathically?”
Yllera tried and shook her head violently.
“No, okay can you try sending?” Tina asked next.
Yllera concentrated on sending all of her worry to Tina.
“No, again,” Tina scratched her nose and peeked beneath the towel, “Hold still, I’m going to teleport you free of the mucous.”
The universe spun in Yllera’s mind and shortly she was laying on one of the room’s examination tables free of the rubbery mucous, and still beneath the towel. Yllera sat up careful to wrap the towel around her. She swung her feet around and off of the table and found her legs seemed shorter compared to the standard sized exam table. Yllera started to hop off but Tina shook her head no, and took the clothes from Max. Max and Tina exchanged a few words and he left as Tina started towards Yllera.
“Lay back down so I can take a few more scans!” Tina growled.
Yllera complied.
Tina pulled out the table extension and sat the pile of clothes on it. That’s when Yllera noticed her feet weren’t hanging over the end as they should. She didn’t just seem shorter. She was shorter. Again she tried to scream, a muted “argh” came out but not much else and certainly not enough to express her fear.
“I see you’re starting to panic,” Tina said retrieving another scanner from the storage compartment beneath the table, “That is a perfectly reasonable reaction. It would also be perfectly reasonable for you to be very angry when I tell you that I have been keeping you in the dark about your condition for some time now. I have been worried that something like this was very likely,” Tina paused to scratch her nose again, “I didn’t foresee it completely but I knew you were in serious trouble.” Tina rubbed her nose frantically, “I’m sorry let me get rid of that cocoon. The smell is getting to me.”
Tina reached under the table and picked out a containment sphere. Then she telekinetically stacked all the pieces of the shell within the larger piece and threw the sphere at it. The whole mess and most of the smell disappeared into the sphere. Tina picked up the marble sized sphere and returned to Yllera.
“Now, back to you, and your current status,” Tina rubbed her nose one last time, “I’m actually relieved that you made it through your crisis with only a few small, difficulties. The main one being that you now resemble a twelve-year-old.”
Yllera didn’t know whether to try to laugh or to attempt another scream. She hoped Tina was kidding, but Yllera knew she was much shorter than she had been. Tina had kept the small detail of the possibility this could happen secret? The Agurian seer had sensed something different about Yllera from the start. A deep intuitive instinct told Yllera that she belonged among her people, that they could help her through this. How was she going to convince Tina of it?