David Marusek - Getting to Know You

“It means you were ambivalent over whether you really wanted Nancy to survive,” the little man said, crossing his little legs.

“That’s insulting,” she said, “and untrue. She’s my sister. I love her.”

“Which is why you visit her once every decade or so.”

“You have a lot of nerve,” she said and remembered the canceled field test. “So this is what Ted meant when he said you’d turn nasty.”

“I guess,” Nicholas said, his tiny face a picture of bemused sympathy. “I can’t help the way I am. They programmed me to know and serve you. I just served you by saving your sister in the manner you, yourself taught me. Once she’s rejuvenated, I’ll find a hospicer society to employ her. That ought to give you a grace period before she repeats this little stunt.”

“Grace period?”

“In a few years, all but the most successful pre-clone humans will have died out,” Nicholas said. “Hospices will soon be as redundant as elementary schools. Your sister has a knack for choosing obsolete careers.”

That made sense.

“I suppose we could bring Victor back,” said Nicholas. “He’s a survivor, and he loves her.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Zoranna. “He was only using her.”

“Hello! Wake up,” said Nicholas. “He’s a rat, but he loves her, and you know it. You, however, acted out of pure jealousy. You couldn’t stand seeing them together while you’re all alone. You don’t even have friends, Zoe, not close ones, not for many years now.”

“That’s absurd!”

The little man rose to his feet and brushed virtual dirt from his slacks. “No offense, Zoe, but don’t even try to lie to me. I know you better than your last seven husbands combined. Bug contacted them, by the way. They were forthcoming with details.”

Zoranna sat up. “You did what? ”

“That Bug was a hell of a researcher,” said Nicholas. “It queried your former friends, employers, lovers, even your enemies.”

Zoranna unsnapped the belt flap to expose the valet controls. “What are you doing?” said Nicholas. She had to remove the belt in order to read the labels. “You can turn me off,” said Nicholas, “but think about it —I know you.”

She pushed the switch and the holo vanished. She unscrewed the storage grommet, peeled off the button-sized memory wafer, and held it between thumb and forefinger. “If you know me so well…” she seethed, squeezing it. She was faint with anger. She could hardly breathe. She bent the wafer nearly to its breaking point.

Here she was, sitting among her sister’s sour-smelling pillows, forty stories underground, indignantly murdering a machine. It occurred to her that perhaps General Genius was on to something after all, and that she should be buying more shares of their stock instead of throttling their prototype. She placed the wafer in her palm and gently smoothed it out. It looked so harmless, yet her hand still trembled. When was the last time anyone had made her tremble? She carefully replaced the wafer in the grommet and screwed it into the belt.

It’d be a miracle if it still worked.