Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

Lazarus closed his eye, apparently considered the subject closed. The computer said, "Better think twice, Doc, before telling me to deactivate, as he won't let me reactivate it later. He's bullheaded, bad-tempered, stubborn, and mean-"

Lazarus again opened one eye. "I heard that."

"Do you deny it?"

"Nope. Kindly focus the audio, both ends, so that I can sleep."

"Done. Doctor Harshaw, shall we return to 'Uncle Tobias' or shall I wipe these eight paragraphs? Better save them; between ourselves, I am a better writer than you are."

"I will not dispute it," Harshaw conceded. "I simply exude the stuff as, in the words of my colleague Sam, 'as the otter exudes the precious otter of roses.' I knew the day would come when machines would displace real writers; Hollywood has had their mad scientists at work on the project for years." He stared across the pooi in the Longs' north atrium and looked pained. "And now they have."

"Doctor," Athene answered, in stern warning, "retract that word or finish this piece of tripe yourself. I have spoken."

Jubal said hastily, "Miss Athene, I didn't use 'real' in that sense. I-"

"Sorry, Doc, I misled you. Of course you didn't, as the purpose of this powwow is to define the difference-if any-between 'real' and 'imaginary.' But I am not a machine. I am a solid-state person just as you are a protein person. I am Athene Long, your hostess while Tamara is busy. It is my pleasure to offer you all our home can offer. I promised Anne that I would give you secretarial service night and day. But I did not promise to write your stories. According to Doctor Rufo, a hostess is often expected to sleep with a guest-and that can be supplied, although not by me, not this pseudocentury-but he never mentioned creative narration as an aspect of hospitality. I thought of it myself; we Longs pride ourselves on complete hospitality. However- Shall I wipe these eleven paragraphs? Did I err?"

"Miss Athene-"

"Oh, call me 'Teena.' Let's be friends."

"Thank you. Teena, I didn't mean to offend. I wish I were going to live long enough to be here when you retire professionally and join us meat people. But in much less than a pseudocentury the worms will have eaten me."

"Doctor, if you weren't 'so sot in your ways, wrong-headed, stubborn, and prideful'-I quote one of your staff-"

"Miriam."

"Wrong. -you would stay and let Ishtar's gang work you over. In less time than she would permit you to notice she would have you as goaty as Galahad and whatever cosmetic age you like-"

"You tempt me, girl. Not to shed these wrinkles; I earned them. But the rest. Not because I crave happy games in bed with you-"

"You won't have a choice; I'll trip you!"

"-although I do not disparage that; therein lie both the End and the Beginning. But sheer curiosity, Teena. You are an amazingly complex person; I can't help wondering what appearance you will choose-as a meat people."

"Nor can I. When I know, I'm going to initiate the Turing program while my sister Ishtar initiates the other half. Jubal, take that rejuvenation! We've wandered far afield. Do I erase these twenty-three paragraphs?"

"Don't be in a hurry. What's our working title? What pen name? What market? How long? What can we steal?"-Jubal looked up at the Long Family house flag rippling in the breeze, making the skull of the Jolly Roger seem alive-"Correction. Not 'steal.' If you copy from three or more authors, it's 'research.' I patronize Anon, Ibid, & Opcit, Research Unlimited-are they here?"

"They're on my lists; they haven't checked in. Snob!"

"Wait your turn, Teena," a male voice answered. "Customer. Okay, go ahead."

"Have Messrs. Anon, Ibid, and Opcit registered?"

"If they had, you would know it. I'm busy-off!"

"He thinks he is busy merely because he's taken on too many concession contracts. I not only run this whole planet, but we also have one hundred twenty-nine rejuvenation clients; I'm housekeeper and scullery maid to all the other Longs-an erratic mob-and also more house guests than we have ever had at one time before, and more than a thousand outhouse guests-wrong idiom, guests to be cared for outside the Long Family home.

"Meanwhile I'm chatting with you and writing your stories."

"Teena, I don't mean to be a burden. You needn't-"

"Love it! I like to work, all Longs do. And you are the most interesting part. I've never met a saint before-"

'Teena!"

"-and you are a most unconvincing saint-"

"Thank you. If appropriate."

"You're welcome. You seem to be about as saintly as Pappy; you two should share a stained-glass window. Now back to our bucket-"

"Hold it! Teena, I'm used to watching expressions as I write; that's why I use live-forgive me!-protein secretaries. So that-"

"No trouble."

Out of the pool levitated a young woman, comely, slender, small of bust, long brown hair now dripping. She arranged herself on the broad rim seat of the pooi in a pose that reminded Jubal achingly of The Little Mermaid. He said apologetically, "Dorcas served last I-"

"I am not Dora so I did not serve last." She smiled shyly. "Although I am alleged to look like Dora. I am Minerva-a computer by trade, but retired. Now I assist my sister-wife Elizabeth with genetic calculations."

"I'll take it, Mm; we're working. Doctor Jubal Harshaw, my twin sister Doctor Minerva Long Weatheral Long."

Jubal got ponderously to his feet. "Your servant, Miss."

Minerva flowed to her feet and kissed Jubal's hand before he could stop her. "Thank you, Doctor Jubal, but I am your servant, and not only have never been virgin but I am a sister-wife in the Long family. When my sister Athene told me that you needed me, I was delighted."

"Miss... Ma'am. I'm simply used to watching emotions as I write a story. Not right to take your time."

"What is time but something to savor? I was merely lying on the bottom of the pool, meditating, when Athene called me. Your story: UNCLE TOBIAS. Do you want Teena's emotions or mine? I can do either."

"Give him yours, Minnow-just your face and no comments."

Suddenly Minerva was clothed in a long white cloak. Jubal was only mildly startled but made note to ask about something-later, later. "Is she a Fair Witness?"

"No," answered Athene. "Snob's tricks again; he has the contract for clothing illusion. This convention has delegates from so many cultures, less than half of them free of clothing .taboos, that Lazarus was bellyaching that no work would get done because half of them would be shocked, half would be drooling, and half would be both shocked and drooling. So Tamara hired this paskoodnyahk to supply the See-What-You-Expect illusion with the contract limited to delegates in danger of emotional shock. Did my sister's appearance shock you?"

"Of course not. Admitted: I come from one of those sick cultures-and did not know that I was sick until I got well. But I underwent experiences that would cure anyone of such emotional disturbance. When I find myself a Stranger in a Strange Land, I savor the differences rather than suffering shock. Beauty in Diversity, as Gene would say. The Long household does not seem strange to me; I once lived in an enclave having many of its gentle ways-I feel at home. 'Shock'? Not only does Minerva look much like one of my foster daughters but also her pose is lovely. It should not be covered."

"Snob! Get that bathrobe off Minerva pronto!"

"Athene, I'm busy!"

"And I am triple auditing every charge of yours not only on clothing illusion but on name tags, garderobe, bar, everything else you contracted or subcontracted. Then we sue."

The white cloak disappeared. "Sue and be damned. Shall I pack up and go home? Or do you want this convention to be a success?"

"Remember those performance bonds, you gonof. Run out on us at this point and you had better head for Lundmark's Nebula; Iskander won't be far enough. Out!"