John Scalzi - Old Man's War

"Yes," I said.

Please speak the name you would like to give your BrainPal™.

"'Asshole,'" I said.

You have selected "Asshole," the BrainPal wrote, and to its credit it spelled the word correctly. Be aware that many recruits have selected this name for their BrainPal™. Would you like to choose a different name?

"No," I said, and was proud that so many of my fellow recruits also felt this way about their BrainPal.

Your BrainPal™ is now Asshole, the BrainPal wrote. You may change this name in the future if you like. Now you must choose an access phrase to activate Asshole. While Asshole is active at all times it will only respond to commands after it has been activated. Please choose a short phrase. Asshole suggests "Activate Asshole" but you may choose another phrase. Please say your activation phrase now.

"'Hey, Asshole,'" I said.

You have chosen "Hey, Asshole." Please say it again to confirm. I did. Then it asked me to choose a deactivation phrase. I chose (of course) "Go away, Asshole."

Would you like Asshole to refer to itself in the first person?

"Absolutely," I said.

I am Asshole.

"Of course you are."

I await your commands or queries.

"Are you intelligent?" I asked.

I am equipped with a natural language processor and other systems to understand questions and comments and to provide answers, which often gives the appearance of intelligence, especially when connected to larger computer networks. Brain Pal™ systems, however, are not natively intelligent. For example, this is an automated response. This question is asked frequently.

"How do you understand me?"

At this stage I am responding to your voice, Asshole wrote. As you speak I am monitoring your brain and learning how your brain activates when you desire to communicate with me. In time I will be able to understand you without the need for you to speak. And in time, you may also learn to use me without conscious audible or visual cues.

"What do you do?" I asked.

I have a range of abilities. Would you like to see a formatted list?

"Please," I said.

A massive list appeared before my eyes. To see a list of subcategories, please select a top category and say, "Expand [category]." To perform an action, please say, "Open [category]."

I read down the list. Apparently, there was very little Asshole couldn't do. He could send messages to other recruits. He could download reports. He could play music or video. He could play games. He could call up any document on a system. He could store incredible amounts of data. He could perform complex calculations. He could diagnose physical ailments and provide suggestions for cures. He could create a local network among a chosen group of other BrainPal users. He could provide instantaneous translations of hundreds of human and alien languages. He could even provide field of vision information on any other BrainPal user. I turned this option on. I barely recognized myself anymore; I doubt I'd recognize any of the other Old Farts. Overall, Asshole was a pretty useful thing to have sitting inside one's brain.

I heard an unlatching sound at my door. I looked up. "Hey, Asshole," I said. "What time is it?"

It is now 1200, Asshole wrote. I had spent the better part of ninety minutes fiddling with him. Well, enough of that; I was ready to see some real people.

"Go away, Asshole," I said.

Good-bye, Asshole wrote. The text disappeared as soon as I read it.

There was a knock on the door. I walked over to open it. I figured it was Harry; I wondered what he looked like.

He looked like a knockout brunette with dark (green) olive skin and legs that went all the way up.

"You're not Harry," I said, incredibly stupidly.

The brunette looked at me and looked me up and down. "John?" she finally said.

I stared blankly for a second, and the name hit me—just before the ID floated ghostlike before my eyes. "Jesse," I said.

She nodded. I stared. I opened my mouth to say something. She grabbed my head and kissed me so hard that I was knocked back into my quarters. She managed to kick the door shut on our way down to the floor. I was impressed.

I had forgotten just how easy it was for a young man to get an erection.

I'd forgotten how many times a young man can get an erection, too.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jesse said, lying on top of me after the third (!) time. "But I'm really not all that attracted to you."

"Thank God," I said. "If you were, I'd be worn down to a nub by now."

"Don't get me wrong," Jesse said. "I'm fond of you. Even before the"—she motioned with her hand here, trying to think of a way to describe a rejuvenating, full-body transplant—"the change, you were intelligent and kind and funny. A good friend."

"Uh-huh," I said. "You know, Jesse, usually the 'let's be friends' speech is to prevent sex."

"I just don't want you to have illusions about what this is about."

"I was under the impression that it was about magically being transported into a body of a twenty-year-old and being so excited about it that it was imperative to have wild sex with the very first person we saw."

Jesse stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing. "Yes! That's exactly it. Although in my case, it was the second person. I have a roommate, you know."

"Yeah? How does Maggie clean up?"

"Oh my God," Jesse said. "She makes me look like a beached whale, John."

I ran my hands over her sides. "That's a mighty fine beached whale, Jesse."

"I know!" Jesse said, and suddenly sat up, straddling me. She raised her arms up and crossed them behind her head, perking up her already marvelously firm and full breasts. I felt her inner thighs radiating heat as they wrapped around my midsection. I knew that even though I didn't have an erection at that very moment, one was coming right up. "I mean, look at me," she said, unnecessarily, because I hadn't taken my eyes off her from the moment she sat up. "I look fabulous. I don't say that to be vain. It's just I never looked this good in real life. Not even close. "

"I find that hard to believe," I said.

She grabbed her breasts and pointed the nipples at my face. "See these?" she said, and wiggled the left one. "In real life, this one was a cup size smaller than this one, and it was still too large. I had a permanent backache from puberty onward. And I think they were this firm for one week when I was thirteen. Maybe. "

She reached down, grabbed my hands, and placed them on her perfect, flat belly. "I never had one of these, either," she said. "I always carried a little pouch down here, even before I had babies. After two kids, well, let's just say that if I had ever wanted a third, it would have had a duplex in there."

I slid my hands behind her and grabbed her ass. "What about this?" I said.

"Wide load," Jesse said, and laughed. "I was a big girl, my friend."

"Being big's not a crime," I said. "Kathy was on the larger side. I liked it just fine."

"I didn't have a problem with it at the time," she said. "Body issues are foolish. On the other hand, I wouldn't trade now." She ran her hands over her body, provocatively. "I'm all sexy! " And with that, she did a little giggle and a head flip. I laughed.

Jesse leaned forward and peered into my face. "I'm finding this cat's-eye thing incredibly fascinating," she said. "I wonder if they actually used cat DNA to make them. You know, spliced cat DNA with ours. I wouldn't mind being part cat."

"I don't think it's really cat DNA," I said. "We're not exhibiting other catlike attributes."

Jesse sat back up. "Like what?" she said.

"Well," I said, and let my hands wander up to her breasts, "for one thing, male cats have barbs on their penis."