Robert Asprin - Phule Me Twice

"Of course," said the customer service rep with an insulted expression, "you can't expect the standard manual to cover all the custom features you ordered. Why, we'd have to write a new manual for every order we filled."

"For what I paid, that doesn't seem an outlandish service to expect," said Phule.

"For what you paid, I'd think you could have detailed one of your soldiers to stay with it and guard it," sneered Stanton.

"My men are legionnaires, not soldiers," Phule corrected the Andromatic representative somewhat testily. "More to the point, my whole reason for acquiring an android double was to convince various people that I was still on Lorelei instead of several parsecs away. I've never found it necessary to walk around with a bodyguard, and if I suddenly appeared to change my routine, it would attract attention. That's exactly what I didn't want."

Stanton shook his head slowly. "Nonetheless, I think we have a clear-cut case of customer negligence here. You must understand, Andromatic cannot take responsibility for unintended uses of our products." He made handwashing gestures.

"I think I need to speak to the manager of customer service," said Phule.

"I am pleased to be able to accommodate you," said Stanton, with a mock bow. "As it happens, I am the manager of customer service."

Phule glared at the vidscreen. "I see," he said. "Let me see if I understand this, then. None of your stock units would do what I wanted a robot double for, so I had to custom-order one that would. But the custom modifications I paid extra for aren't covered in the manual, and the warranty doesn't extend to the uses for which I specifically requested the modifications. My failure to follow instructions I didn't receive constitutes negligence or misuse of the product. Is that about right?"

"That covers most of it, yes," said Stanton with a smirk. "Is there anything else that I can help you with today?"

"Evidently not," said Phule. He'd fallen into very precise diction, which anyone who knew him would have recognized as a very dangerous sign. "However, you might save yourself considerable trouble if you started clearing out your desk as soon as this call is over. I'm going to make sure that Andromatic cleans house, and the first department to get swept out will be customer disservice." He cut the connection abruptly and slumped into his chair.

"Shall I begin acquiring Andromatic shares, sir?" said Beeker, who had watched the entire conversation.

"Check the profitability first," said Phule. "If they're running as sloppy an operation as it looks from here, the shares might be overpriced. I suspect the company can turn a decent profit if it's managed right, but I don't see any reason to pay more than we need to for the privilege of turning it around."

"Perhaps it would be advisable to start rumors to get the price down to a reasonable level," noted Beeker.

"If we have to, sure," said Phule. "But don't put a lot of effort into it. We've got bigger fish to fry-among them, figuring out just who's got the robot and how to get it back."

"I should expect they'll give us the courtesy of a ransom call before long, sir," said Beeker. He opened the cover of his Port-a-Brain computer and began calling up his mail program.

"Possibly," said Phule. "That depends on their reasons for the robbery in the first place. If they're looking to make the most possible mischief for me, they can do a lot better by holding onto the thing than by selling it back to me."

"I fear you're right, sir," said Beeker. He looked at the screen, then continued. "At any rate, there's no word on the android at present. We shall have to pursue other channels."

"Well, pursue away," said Phule. I'm going to go see how Sushi's coming along with his search for the man who robbed that Japanese restaurant. Give me a buzz if there's any useful news."

"Immediately, sir," said Beeker. He turned back to the Port-a-Brain and began his search.

Journal #520

Crises never choose a convenient time to manifest themselves. Of course not; otherwise, they would hardly qualify as crises. So it did not in the least surprise me that the theft of the robot coincided with an impending move by the company. In comparison, the contretemps with the local citizen convinced that he had been robbed by a legionnaire was a trivial matter.

In this, at least, my employer was fortunate enough to have an eminently qualified subordinate to whom he could delegate the job of identifying the robber. Sushi's computer skills were as good as any in the company. But it was his newly acquired status as a Yakuza overlord that gave him access to the information on which to proceed.

The perhaps not entirely inadvertent result of taking on this responsibility was the transformation of Sushi into a rather good facsimile of a valuable member of the company. While my employer saw this as a desirable alteration, that opinion was not necessarily universally shared.

"Yo, Soosh, you still workin'?" Do-Wop stood in the doorway of the hotel suite, obviously with several beers on board. Behind him were Super-Gnat and Tusk-anini. "You know what time it is, man?"

"I thought the one staying home was supposed to ask that question," said Sushi, looking up from the computer screen. "It's two in the morning, just in case your chronometer's broken. And yeah, I'm still working. Did you guys shut down the bar again?"

"Hey, somebody's gotta do it," said Do-Wop. He sauntered into the room, fairly steady on his feet, and slouched into an easy chair. Tusk-anini and Super-Gnat followed him, taking seats on the couch. "Everybody's worried about you, man," he added. "You workin' that hard, you gonna give yourself headaches or somethin'."

"I already have headaches, Do-Wop," said Sushi, turning his chair around to face his partner. "But this is a different kind-the kind I can get rid of by finishing up this job. And the best part is, when the job's done, I can go back to hanging out with the guys."

"You been saying that for weeks, now," accused Do-Wop. "After a while, it sounds like nothin' more than an excuse." He sat up in the seat and pointed a finger at Sushi. "I told you this before, and I'll tell you again. You're startin' to act like an officer, man."

"Hey, cut the squabbling," said Super-Gnat. "We didn't come by to watch you guys fight." She reached down into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Atlantis Amber, beads of condensation on its surface. "Here, Sushi, we thought you'd like a cool one to wet your throat after working all night."

"She mean wet inside of throat," explained Tusk-anini helpfully.

"I'd never have guessed," said Sushi, smiling. He took the beer and opened it. "Thanks, Gnat," he said, raising the bottle in a salute and taking a sip.

"No prob, Sushi," she said with a smile. "We did miss you, y'know. We got talking about where we're going next, and there were some pretty weird ideas going around-stuff that makes Chocolate Harry's shtick about the renegade robots look fairly logical."

"Well, some people are buying that line," said Sushi, with a wry grin. "Either that, or there's an incredible bargain on purple camouflage somewhere in town."

"I not believing renegade robots," said Tusk-anini. "Chocolate Harry must make a mistake."

"If it's a mistake, it's a damn lucky one for the sarge's bank balance," said Do-Wop. "Wonder where he found all that purple stuff, anyhow?"

"Some surplus catalog, is my bet," said Super-Gnat. "But here's my question, Sushi. You've been doing this job for the captain. Do-Wop says he was here talking to you this afternoon. So, naturally, we sort of wondered-any chance he dropped any hints where we're going?"

Sushi thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cool glass. "I'm not sure," he said. "But Chocolate Harry let something slip in between his pitches for robot-proof camouflage. The captain's bought a special modular base camp-MBC-that he's going to have us practice setting up. What I think that means is, there aren't any hotels where we're going. That makes me think we're going to a world without a large human population. Maybe even none at all."