Rudy Rucker - The Ware Tetralogy

“I was cruising the coast. I was gonna see Aarbie Kidd, but I decided not to. I’m gonna change. I feel like I got off on the wrong foot with you, Babs. Are you coming back to the warehouse soon?”

“I’m just giving Theodore a ride to work. He has the evening shift at the Asiz Gallery. What’s on your tortured mind?”

“I figured out two things today, Babs. The first thing is about the—the ‘toy’ I got. I found out that if I die, the ‘toy’ will either make a copy of me or work just as well for the next person that picks it up.”

“Bizarre.” A long pause while Babs thought it over. “Good news and bad news, isn’t it? But I don’t think we should be discussing this on the uvvy.” Randy saw her glance into her rearview mirror. “Hey, is that you following me?”

“Right on your sweet tailfeather, baby. Look, I gotta tell you the second thing in person. Pull over, would you?”

“Okay.” Babs pulled her funny car over to the curb and hopped out. Theodore stayed in the car, looking anxious and annoyed. Randy parked his motorcycle and held out his arms to Babs. Babs took a few uncertain steps closer and spoke to him without benefit of the uvvy.

“What is it? I hope you’re not lifted again, Randy.”

“You’re—you’re not like any gal I ever met, Babs. I didn’t realize it at first, but I could really go for you.”

Babs blushed, glanced back at Theodore, took another step closer. “Are you serious?” A little smile played across her lips.

“I know I been acting screwed up. But you’re the only woman I could care about, Babs. I had me kind of a peculiar childhood. The cheeseball thing—well, I was thinking that your ma’s part moldie so maybe it’s okay. I mean if you and I was to—I’m just worried I might need some—well, if you wouldn’t mind layin’ on a moldie rubber sheet is—”

Babs’s voice was loud and hurt. “What do you think you’re talking about!”

“I’m gettin’ ahead of myself, sorry,” said Randy. “Just a-thinkin’ out loud. Don’t sweat the details, right? You and me, Babs, we got a future, huh? It’ll work. You’re the best gal I ever met. I’m just a-scared I’ll blow it.”

“Are you all right, Babs?” called Theodore, getting out of the car.

“Yes, yes,” said Babs. “Just a second.”

“Don’t go off with Theodore now, Babs,” begged Randy. “We gotta talk some more.”

“How did you find out about what your alla does if you die?” whispered Babs. “Is what you said really true?”

“You’re going to make me late,” said Theodore, walking over. “Hi, Tucker. Seen any giant snails today?”

“Oh, leave Randy alone,” said Babs. “Look, Theodore, you just take my car for now. In fact, keep it overnight and show it to Kundry Asiz tomorrow and see if she’ll take it for the gallery. I talked to Kundry on the uvvy about it already, and I think she’s interested.”

“But—”

“Something’s come up,” said Babs, and gave Theodore a peck on the cheek. “Bye. I’ll uvvy you tomorrow.”

So Babs got on the back of Randy’s motorcycle and rode back to her warehouse with him.

“One thing,” she said as they got off the bike. “I am not going to fuck you on any gross moldie sheet. Not that I’m saying I’d fuck you at all. Hi, Cobb.”

“Back so soon?” Cobb was slouched in the warehouse doorway, sort of guarding the place. “Yoke was just saying maybe she should go back to the Moon. Talking to her sister made her homesick. Hi, Randy, good to see you. You don’t want to go to the Moon yet, do you? There’s too much happening down here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I feel like things are just starting,” said Randy. “Hey, come on inside, Cobb, we four oughtta have a little talk. If Yoke can lay off raggin’ me.”

“Help,” hollered Yoke, seeing Randy in the doorway. “The attack of the giant snail!”

“I’m gonna whomp your butt!” shouted Randy, charging after her. He was tired of drag-assing around and being humble. Yoke shrieked and ran, firing off a few hydrogen-oxygen air-bombs in her wake. Randy alla-made a big cushion right in front of Yoke, and she stumbled over it. He stood over her, with Willa Jean loyally at his side. “You’ve teased me enough, Yoke. I know I done acted like a clown, but I’m gonna be different now. You hear that, Cobb and Babs? I’m gonna be a new man. Worthy of my great-grandpa, and worthy of the woman I love.”

“Huh?” said Yoke.

Babs walked over and put her arm around Randy’s waist. “I think Randy’s cute. So be nice to him.”

Randy smiled and kissed Babs’s cheek, then went ahead and threw both arms around her to give her a full-body hug. As he hugged her and inhaled her warm fragrance, he realized that, if he ever got her into bed, he wasn’t going to be needing any sex-aids.

“Okay,” said Babs, worming away. “But now we better talk about the alla thing you mentioned before.”

So Randy told the other three about how he’d learned that an alla would freshly re-register itself to whoever next picked it up after its last owner died—although there was supposedly a possibility that it could instead actualize a fresh copy of you.

“So in this fairy tale, the greedy peasant who kills the golden goose gets the goose’s powers,” said Yoke. “Xoxx it.”

“Unless he chooses to actualize a fresh, live instance of the goose,” pointed out Babs.

“Me, I’ve known my share of peasants,” said Randy. “Ain’t no peasant in the world would ever wish that goose back.”

“So either we keep the allas secret forever,” said Babs. “Or we get murdered. Or we throw our allas away. Or we figure out how to give one to everyone in the world. Four possibilities. And the first one’s impossible. Secrets get out. Especially with the aliens hanging with random cheeseballs and lifters all day long.”

“They’re on the Anubis?” said Randy. “That’s where, isn’t it? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He was sitting next to Babs; Willa Jean had nestled in between them.

“We assumed that if you knew, you’d instantly run over there to try and fuck Shimmer again,” said Cobb. “I, for one, wanted to see my great­-grandson’s poor bod get a few days rest.”

“I—” Randy’s voice cracked. “I ain’t doin’ that no more. Not while I got a chance with Babs.”

“How touching,” said Yoke in a voice that struggled to stay level. She paused to clear her throat. “Let’s think. What Babs said boils down to this. If we don’t want to get killed, we either get rid of our allas or we figure out how to give an alla to everyone. I’m for everyone getting an alla. We just have to find out how to tell an alla to make an alla.”

“I’m not sure about that,” said Babs, absently petting Willa Jean. “People are too stupid. If everyone gets an alla, every square inch of the world will be full of—crap. It’s been fun making art with the alla, but I was an artist before I got my alla, and I’ll be an artist when it’s gone. Maybe I’d rather just throw it away than have idiots use it.”

“Well, that’s great for you, Miss High and Mighty,” said Yoke. “But I’m an artist too. Only there was never an art-form I felt really good at till the alla came along. Does that make me a clumsy peon? I’m not giving up my alla, Babs.”

“You’re great with your alla, Yoke,” said Babs soothingly. “And I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t think you’re an artist. But actually you could do art even without the alla, you know. I was just saying that most people aren’t artists at all.”

“Most people are dumb shits,” said Yoke, still feeling feisty. “But if everyone has an alla, then what a fool does is fixable. If one person does something stupid, someone else can undo it.”