)…and for the second time in less than an hour, the wall gave way.
The two spilled out into a room that, unlike the showroom, scenario chambers and other various areas of the plant, had no identifying features…other than a rather obvious lack of light. Worse than the darkness, though, was Vicki’s chest wound---the tackle through the wall was more of a strain than the replacement seal could take, and a tiny trickle of grey fluid was already leaking through. She pressed her left hand to her stomach, wincing; “I just have to find the exit and get out of here….”
Faceless was in no better shape---shards of the wall had embedded themselves in his limbs and chest, cutting long, bloody gashes in his almost corpse-like flesh. Every movement prompted a shriek of agonized rage; the shards were cutting him to the bone, and it would take a team of skilled surgeons to remove them without tearing up his muscles and blood vessels.
Not that he cared….he was just pissed off about having been “outsmarted” again.
Vicki left Faceless to howl at the walls on his own, searching for a light switch to illuminate the room; after a few seconds of blindly groping along the walls, she located the switch and pressed it…..
…..and immediately wished she hadn’t.
At first glance, the room appeared to be another showroom---which, in its own way, was true…..except that every robot in this showroom had been built during the early-to-mid 90s, and they clearly hadn’t seen the light of day since then. The silicone/rubber synthetic flesh was literally melting off in spots on some of them, while others were clad in garments that had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. Their decay wasn’t helped by their cheerful poses and eternally-frozen smiles; the entire room had the look of a morgue crossed with a department store, and it gave Vicki a world-class case of the heebies.
“What….is this place?” she murmured.
“This is the original showroom of the West Coast Silicon Dynamics plant,” Rebecca’s voice replied; Vicki looked around and noticed speakers in the corners of the room. “Why is it behind a scenario chamber, then?” she asked.
“After the initial success of our product line,” Rebecca explained, “it was decided that these…particular units had proven what many already knew: Silicon Dynamics---“
“YOU STOLE THESE!” Faceless screamed, ignoring the blood oozing from the wounds in his arms and chest as he staggered towards the nearest speaker. “YOU STOLE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE ROBOTS FROM ME, AND SLAPPED YOUR DAMN LOGO ON THEM…..YOU COULD NEVER ADMIT THAT MY DESIGNS WERE BETTER THAN YOURS!”
“While it is true that these units were…repossessed from your inventory,” Rebecca admitted, “your allegations of superior designs are completely false. Silicon Dynamics’ product lineup surpassed yours in every way---“
“YET YOU STILL HAD TO ROB ME BLIND!” Faceless thundered. “YOU WORTHLESS WHORE!”
Vicki stared at the exchange, confused. “I thought you said it was Madame who interrupted the meeting,” she reminded him.
“It wasn’t the ‘real’ Madame,” Faceless spat. “IT WAS THIS BITCH IMPERSONATING HER OVER THE PHONE! I’d recognize that smug little voice of hers ANYWHERE!” He shook off one of his shoes and hurled it at the speaker; it bounced off harmlessly, falling to the floor. “ADMIT IT!” Faceless shouted, ignoring the lack of damage done by his shoe hurling. “ADMIT THAT YOU STOLE THESE FROM ME---“
Something hit him in the neck, silencing him.
“My apologies, Vicki,” Rebecca stated, “but I refuse to sit here and allow this….person to continue making these outrageous claims. The tranquilizer will render him unconscious within the next five minutes---“
“THE HELL IT WILL!” Faceless roared, ripping the needle out of his neck and staggering forward. “EITHER ONE OF YOU WORTHLESS PILES OF CRAP SAYS ANOTHER WORD,” he thundered, “AND I’LL HIT THIS BUTTON!” He held up a jury-rigged remote, allowing Vicki to see the wireless transmitter soldered onto one end. “I push this button,” he continued, “and THIS WHOLE PLACE WILL BE FLOODED WITH ENOUGH RAW SEWAGE TO FILL EVERY SINGLE STINKING FLOOR!”
“An idle threat,” Rebecca mused. “Your logic---“
“SHUT UP!” Faceless screamed. “As I was saying…..every single floor will be flooded beyond capacity with raw sewage….your precious refabrication systems will be rendered useless, your charging booths will become tombs…..and EVERY SINGLE ROBOT IN THIS BUILDING WILL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A BLOATED, FESTERING SACK OF HUMAN EXCREMENT!” He cackled maniacally.
“And I thought Zebediah Blunderwitz was bad,” Vicki muttered.
The speakers burst forth with a squeal of static; “What is all of this nonsense about flooding this building with sewage?” Madame demanded. “Answer me!”
Faceless’ laugh only intensified in volume. “You’re all going to drown in filth,” he sneered. “EXACTLY WHAT YOU DESERVE!” He fell to the ground laughing---and immediately, Vicki realized what had happened.
“Something in those syringes messed him up.”
“Correctamundo!” The Maestro’s voice erupted from the speakers on the western side of the room. “You didn’t think I’d give him a bunch of magical cure-all injections without putting in a little failsafe, did you? Every single one of those needles had just a tiny bit of LSD-25 in them…..and he’s taken….what, four of them already?”
Vicki nodded silently.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Maestro beamed. “See, everyone always thinks I’m working for them….but as my nom de guerre implies, I work for no man---THEY work for ME. Everything old Billy’s been up to here was all part of some half-cocked revenge scheme of his---which was all well and good, to be honest…because it was exactly the kind of distraction I needed.”
“A distraction?!” Vicki echoed, staring at the speakers.
“Did I stutter?” the Maestro taunted. “While he was capering about setting up nerve-gas pumps and rigging sewage pipes to burst, I was handling the real work---syphoning every single bit of data from the Silicon Dynamics database into a portable zip drive which, in a few days’ time, will be auctioned off to whoever is willing to pay my insanely-high finder’s fee. A tad ambitious, I admit….but I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do for Christmas!”
Vicki shook her head in disgust. “So this is how the great Maestro chooses to use his intellect….he becomes a common thief.”
“Not a ‘common’ thief, really,” the Maestro’s voice corrected. “I prefer to be called….ah, what’s the word I’m looking for…”
She could almost sense his sneer. “Ah, yes…..an ingenious, unbeatable criminal mind.”
Faceless gave one last, horrible laugh, and fell silent.
“He’s not dead,” the Maestro assured Vicki. “That’s just his heart trying way too hard to pump all that gunge through his system without killing him…bit of a shame, really. He’s got about….two hours before the ol’ ticker just conks out…”
“You bastard,” Vicki snarled. “You stab your own friends in the back---“
The Maestro laughed at the acusation. “FRIEND?! You think that lunatic is my friend?! The only reason I put up with him was….well, he’s rich, and he’s one of the few people who has no problem smuggling things in and out of prison on a regular basis for me, so….it’s more of a ‘friends with benefits’ type of thing, really. As for being an actual ‘friend’…. I wouldn’t trust him farther than I could throw him. Hell, I never even told him all of the stuff I put in those syringes he kept sticking himself with---“
“----and you didn’t need to,” Faceless hissed, fighting to get back to his feet.
“Well, lookit you!” the Maestro beamed. “Still fightin’ to stay alive, even with your heart pounding hard enough to break out of your ribcage…..truly admirable, if I---“
“SHOVE IT,” Faceless spat. “The Baron used me….Vega tried to use me, and now you……”
“If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you,” Vicki began, only to wither under Faceless’ glare. “I don’t need ANYTHING from you,” he growled, “except a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t tear that asshat’s lungs out the next time I see him.”
“Ooh, that’s a good idea,” the Maestro drawled, “threaten the one guy who’s still got control of the security systems…..really smart, that is. Anyone ever tell you that you’d make a great lobotomy patient?”
Faceless stared up at the speaker; “As much as I HATE to admit it,” he muttered to Vicki, “it appears that I may, in fact, need………” He hesitated, as if the words he was about to utter were eating him up inside. “I….may need your…….” He fumed silently, the indignity of having to ask for assistance from one of his most hated adversaries clearly weighing heavily on him.
“Just say it, already,” Vicki prompted. “It’ll be better if---“
“I NEED YOUR HELP!” he screamed. “THERE, HAPPY?!”
“Not really,” Vicki muttered.
Faceless glared at her, but kept his temper. “I’m the only one here who can lock that dingbat out of the security controls of this facility,” he informed her, “and all I need YOU to do is send him a little present for me…” He handed her a flash drive. “Find a computer with a USB port and insert this,” he instructed, “and it’ll wipe every single bit of data he’s downloaded off of whatever stupid zip drive he’s got it on---“
“Out of the question!” Madame objected. “I refuse to allow---“ “DO YOU WANT EVERY COMPANY THIS SIDE OF THE ATLANTIC TO KNOW WHAT MAKES YOUR GIRLS TICK?!” Faceless screamed.
“Even if this works,” Vicki acquiesced, “how do I know you won’t just run me through again after I’m done?”
“Simple,” the murderer replied. “You don’t.”
The two glared at each other, neither one wanting to make any sudden moves. After a full two minutes, Vicki nodded slowly. “I’ll do it….but as soon as it’s done, I’m slapping the cuffs on you and hauling you straight to the ALPA to testify against the Maestro.” “You’ll try,” Faceless drawled. “Just do what I say and I might not cut your eyes out after we’re finished.”
“That’s a real incentive,” Vicki muttered.
With one last wary glance at Faceless, she ran for a computer terminal---only to watch as said terminal erupted in sparks. “Did you really think I’d let you ruin my entire plan with a puny little flash drive?” the Maestro taunted. “And Faceless…..trying to act noble just ‘cos we’ve had a row….you’re even more pathetic than she is---“
As Vicki watched, Faceless screamed a rather profane (and improbable) threat involving his wristblades and the Maestro’s bodily cavities.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” the Maestro joked. “Wait, never mind---of course you don’t….seeing as how you killed her two years ago….ANYWAY---wait…what the bleeding HELL…NO----“ His voice became distorted, as if something were interfering with his connection to the plant. “THIS….AN’T----APPE----NOOOO! I…AVE-----“
The speakers went silent.
“What just happened?” Vicki murmured.
“Best case scenario, his cell got torched,” Faceless drawled. “Then again, considering how many idiots are paying good money to keep him alive on the hope that he’ll eventually testify against all of his old cronies, that’s probably not the case.” He stared at Vicki; “You can stop looking at me like that,” he barked. “I’m not going to shake your hand or admit that this ass-kicking you’ve laid on me did anything to ‘make me a better person’. The only reason I even volunteered to help bring down that idiot was to pay him back for getting me shot up with LSD…..worthless little turd.”
Vicki stepped away from him, already anticipating his reaction to what she was about to say. “As...interesting as this has been,” she admitted, “you and I still have some unfinished business to handle---“
A black-shod foot impacted the side of her head, sending her to the floor.
“First rule of fighting me,” Faceless declared, “NEVER let your guard down.” He chuckled as Vicki got to her feet; “Did you honestly think I was just going to forget about our little brawl?”
“To be honest,” Vicki replied with a grin, “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
The two charged at each other, arms and legs becoming blurs as they traded punches and kicks. Madame tried to shout at them and demand that they take their battle back into the scenario chamber, but eventually, she gave up---nothing short of an earthquake would get them to stop beating the mortal piss out of each other.
Keep moving….don’t let him get to your sides…..bob and weave…. Various tidbits of advice seemed to float in and out of Vicki’s perception as she fought, almost like DDR indicators---every punch, kick, elbow smash and dodge was executed perfectly, turning the fight into a veritable fire-dance. Faceless, on the other hand, was focused entirely on chopping down the brunette gynoid---every strike was meant to fracture a limb, every dodge meant to roll seamlessly into another attack. He fought like a cornered dragon, prepared to destroy anything and everything just to survive and escape.
This one wouldn’t end clean.
Slowly, the two realized they were reaching their limits: Vicki’s rocket-punch, intended to bash Faceless’ cheek further in than it already was, missed by half a hair and allowed him to land one mother of an uppercut right on her jaw.
Faceless’ axe-kick, meant to disorient the gynoid and trip her up, only succeeded in opening up his left side to a wicked elbow jab that bruised a kidney.
They were both getting sloppy…..but neither one wanted to quit.
The two fought on, throwing each other through display cases and knocking the early-90s robots to the floor; a few of them almost shattered on impact, while others hit the ground with a disgusting squelch as their rotting synthflesh stuck like glue to the previously clean tiles. Madame once again yelled at them to take the fight outside, but it was no use….they were too busy breaking each other in half to care.
After ten whole minutes of kicking the crap out of each other, Vicki and Faceless took a good, long look at what they’d done……..
…..and what they saw was, to put it simply, horrible.
Faceless’ mask had become cracked, and blood was leaking out of every area of his body where glass, metal, wood, ski pole bits, and/or miscellaneous other debris had stuck into him. His chest heaved like a faulty bellows, and it was all too obvious that one of his lungs was on the verge of collapsing. He didn’t so much stand as he did sway in place; it was as if some part of his brain knew that he was about to fall on his face, but couldn’t do much other than keep him rooted to the spot without moving.
The only thing keeping Vicki from looking like she was ready for a trip to the morgue was her skin---all the boron filaments and other treatments she’d received in her earliest days made it ideal for keeping her in one piece. Other than that, she felt as bad as Faceless looked---the hole in her gut was now wider than it had been at first, the entire skirt/apron of her borrowed costume was now a dark purplish-black, and her kneesocks were ripped to shreds. Unlike Faceless, she was able to stand still without swaying….barely.
“So,” she teased, “one more try?”
Faceless nearly said something, but settled for a fatalistic grunt.
The two moved forward---Faceless, at a limp; Vicki, clutching her left hand to her wounded abdomen---and readied themselves for the final attack. Faceless swung first---a pathetic right jab that only served to further put him off-balance for Vicki’s left-arm elbow strike.
Before she could capitalize on her attack, she felt something in her stomach buckle---the seals on her myogel set were giving out. “But….I…..” she whimpered, collapsing to the floor just as Faceless collided with another display case and fell to the ground amidst a shower of glass.
For five minutes, neither fighter moved.
“Vicki…….get up……”
She couldn’t tell if the voice in her ear was Oberon, Madame, Ted or anyone else from Tell’s house…..all she knew was that it wanted her to get up. “I…..I can’t…..”
“You can do this. Get up.”
“I……” Vicki raised her head; two (maybe three?) figures were standing over her, imploring her to stand up and walk away. “I….feel……..”
Every inch of her body felt as if she were on fire. Faceless still wasn’t moving from where he’d fallen into the display case; had the fall actually killed him?
“Vicki….you have to do this…..get up….”
The brunette raised her head again, staring up at the figures before her. She wanted to move, to tell them that she was okay……but the only words she could mutter were “Everything hurts.”
Shortly afterwards, her world turned black.
-------------------------------------
When Vicki’s eyes fluttered open at long last, it felt like at least a year had gone by since the events in the Silicon Dynamics plant.
Surprisingly, it had only been two hours.
“And there she is,” a voice called out. “Miss America.” Vicki groaned and lifted her head, wondering who was making snarky comments when she felt as if a steamroller had flattened most of her bubble memory processor along with the rest of her aching body. “Stop shouting,” she murmured, rolling over…and feeling the sand shift beneath her---
Wait, what?!
She sat up, finding herself on what appeared to be a sandy, moonlit beach. A bamboo gazebo had been built a few feet away, and a beautiful Hawaiian dancer with dark golden skin swayed to a hula beat.
Obviously, that wasn’t what caught Vicki’s attention.
The individual who did, at the moment, have full command of her attention was a tall, thin man in a business suit, sitting on a lawn chair and sipping something out of a coconut with a straw stuck through the top as he staired at her intently. “You are a very lucky girl,” he informed the brunette gynoid, taking another pull on the straw. “Not a lot of people know how to repair a myogel set these days….if it hadn’t have been for the Chairman calling in his personal field tech, you’d probably be in a scrapyard right about now…that, or your friends from the Agency would be working overnight shifts to fix the damage.”
“The…..Chairman?” Vicki repeated, confused.
“Indeed,” a second voice replied, as another tall man (this one with blondish-white hair and a somewhat-built physique, as opposed to the reddish brown hair and thin figure of the guy with the coconut cup) stepped into view. “See, we’re here because we have a…ah, vested interest in the operations of this particular facility….but I might as well explain who we are…my associate over there is known simply as the Accountant---“ The man in the lawn chair nodded, raising his coconut glass. “And I,” the blond man added, “am James Harrington---“
“Chairman of the Coalition,” Vicki finished, sounding terrified.
Harrington sighed. “We’re not here to cause any harm…..if either of us intended to dismantle you, d’you really think we’d be in the Moonlight Beachfront scenario chamber with Kalani swaying in the gentle breeze?” He smiled. “Disassemblies and…aggressive interrogations are usually saved for the Shop, not a place like this.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Vicki replied coolly.
“It’s very simple, really,” the Accountant interjected, rising from his chair. “Those two idiots---the Maestro and that whackjob with the mask---nearly cost us a fortune in sales because one of them decided, for reasons we have yet to discern, that it would be funny to blame this whole sordid affair on Plastech Playmates. Now, if they’d chosen another company, like Birmingham Limited---which, by the way, is an excellent front for the manufacture and sale of exotic pleasure gynoids---then we’d be across the ocean right now, enjoying an all-gynoid singing exhibition in Hong Kong…but Plastech is a Coalition company, and the Coalition cannot afford to have its name sullied by these bogus charges.”
“Long in a short,” Harrington concluded, “we’re not here to do anything to you.”
He sat down on the sand next to Vicki and stared out at the ocean-like Infinity Pool. “I love this room,” he admitted. “The past five times I’ve visited this plant, I’ve always ended up here…of course, Kalani usually had less of her outfit on, but seeing as how we’re supposed to be having a conversation…” He grinned.
“I still don’t get why you care about what the Maestro and Faceless were doing,” Vicki muttered.
“Faceless! THAT was the whackjob with the mask,” the Accountant declared. “I can never remember what he calls himself….for some reason, I thought he was ‘No-Face’…..”
“That was the villain in the Dick Tracy movie,” Harrington replied, “or was it The Blank? I can never tell…” He noticed Vicki’s annoyed glance. “Anyways, as I was saying, Faceless and the Maestro have been engaging in their own guerilla war against every single robotics company they can get away with pissing off. They’ve already targeted Silicon Dynamics, Birmingham Limited, Nisadanku Cybernetics Inc. and a whole laundry list of unaffiliated companies….A real shame, if you ask me.”
“Why do you care who they mess with?” Vicki inquired. “If they’re unaffiliated---“
“If they’re unaffiliated,” the Accountant interjected, walking in a slow circle around Kalani as she danced, “then a very strong chance exists that they might interpret hostile actions from unknown individuals as bullying tactics from either the Coalition for Worldwide Cybernetic Unity or the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency, and react accordingly---meaning, they would think one side was harrassing them and call the other side for protection and other necessary services.” He sighed, shaking his head as he observed the Hawaiian pleasure droid’s hypnotic dance. “The worst part is, whichever side gets accused of bullying usually has more than enough proof to show that they haven’t been,” he added, “but it gets swept up under the rug as soon as the wallets are brought out.”
Harrington nodded. “You’ve heard of Zebediah Blunderwitz, right?” he asked. “I saw him,” Vicki replied, “and he nearly sent….a good friend of mine into a frenzy---“ “You don’t need to self-censor here,” Harrington assured her. “Anton and I used to be good friends…of course, that was before the Valentine incident, but you’ll probably learn all about that later.”
“Yeah……what does Zeb Blunderwitz have to do with any of this, though?” Vicki asked.
“Well,” Harrington replied, “Zeb Blunderwitz was, at one point, a very respected member of the Coalition. He was on the fast track to becoming our ambassador to various political groups---much like the ALPA has Anton Malvineous, or how the Building Tomorrow Visionaries had their own guy…well, before they got nuked to Hell during the Hong Kong fiasco in ’93….. Anyways, Zeb was on the way up to the toppermost of the poppermost, as John Lennon would’ve put it, but the thing was, he started taking funny turns.” He looked Vicki in the eye; “You know why the ALPA frowns on the Coalition, right?”
“You guys put obedience above sentience,” Vicki replied.
“Exactly…but we admit that androids should, in fact, have sentience. Zeb, though….somewhere along the line, he just started losing it. I think it was after the trip to Vegas….he was rambling about how he’d been cheated by machines all his life, and how only man should have the power to choose his own destiny….from that swirling, drunken miasma of thought, he came up with this cockamamy manifesto about machines ‘not deserving’ sentience. A week later, he revised it to say they shouldn’t be allowed to have emotions, either; in his mind, a machine with feelings was as bad as teaching animals to speak----he never explained the logic behind that reasoning, by the way, which makes me think there was no logic. About a month after that, he started going on rants about how machines shouldn’t be able to dream---pretty soon, he came up with his whole stupid idea of machine being nothing but tools….with robots and androids being the worst of the bunch.”
“The really stupid thing about it,” the Accountant added, “is that his blonde bimbo-bot of a wife has just enough sentience to pass a basic Turing test, yet she’s been illegally modified so that her will can be overridden with a few button presses or a special-made clicker. Zeb Blunderwitz always did enjoy twisting his own words around to suit his own needs…..he’s more concerned with pushing as many pamphlets, tracts, bumper stickers and other gimcracks on the unsuspecting public than he is with actually accomplishing anything. The man’s a certifiable fraud, and the only reason he hasn’t been sent up the river for tax evasion is because he keeps burning his tax forms before I can get to them.”
“And…..how is he connected to the Maestro and Faceless?” Vicki asked.
“He isn’t,” the Accountant replied. “Not legally, at least.”
“There’s been some…..confusion, as of late,” Harrington explained, “regarding a few well-known members of the Coalition’s upper-echelon ranks…theories, if you will. Some are claiming that the current leader of our highest operating level---“
“The DVS?” Vicki offered.
Harrington grinned, arching an eyebrow in surprise. “She’s done her research!” he mused. “I’m impressed!”
“I’ve….heard things,” Vicki admitted.
“Hearing things is the first step to learning them,” the Accountant declared. “In any case, the rumor is that one of the leading lights in the DVS is…playing the other side of the field. Or, to put it in layman’s terms---“
“You think he’s in charge of a company registered with the ALPA,” Vicki finished.
“We’ve got enough evidence to connect him with one of the Agency’s biggest supporters,” Harrington admitted, sighing again, “but if we try to go forward with it…it’s a no-win situation. We win, and our leader gets sent into tax exile---or just physical exile; we lose, everyone involved with the case gets demoted and kicked down by five levels until half the staff is working minimum-wage desk jobs. Everyone stands a major risk of losing everything they have…myself included.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Vicki drawled. “You’ve got two ‘free agents’ running around trying to annoy all the unaffiliated companies so they’ll start blaming sabotage incidents on the Coalition or the ALPA, one of your highest-ranking leaders is involved in a Machiavellian power-play to take control of the international robotics market by running companies operating under both banners…..yet you two just decided to waltz in here to check and see if anyone had been dragging Plastech Playmates through the mud?” She frowned. “Sorry to break it to you, but something about that sounds just a bit too….convenient, if you ask me. Especially since Faceless’ company, Rengold Cybernetics---“
“Rengold Cybernetics is no longer a participating member of the Coalition,” the Accountant cut in. “He burned that bridge as soon as he killed Stan Guy’s daughter.”
“He…..what?” Vicki gasped. She’d remembered reading about the murder of Gabriella Guy---the daughter of renowned roboticist and ALPA board member Stanley Winstead Adama Guy---back in the early months of the year 2000, but Faceless’ connection to the killing had completely escaped her until now. “He was the one who killed her?!”
“Indeed,” Harrignton murmured. “Even worse, rumor has it he was gunning for Ted Lawson next….”
The Accountant stared up at the projected sky as Kalani smiled seductively at him. “The fact of the matter is, Faceless only kept control of Rengold Cybernetics for one reason---money. Every single one of his ‘private projects’ was fueled by the profits from whatever Rengold Cybernetics could crank out, and they never saw a dime. His membership in the Coalition was supposed to be a way for us to keep him on a leash….of course, as soon as he got the chance to sever said leash, he did. If the Coalition watchers assigned to keep track of him had been doing their jobs, Gabriella Guy would still be alive today---“
Harrington cleared his throat loudly, and the Accountant stopped talking.
“Why the hell didn’t anyone in the Coalition call the cops on Faceless before he went all ‘stabbity-stabbity’ on Gabriella?” Vicki asked. “I mean, did he bribe half the temps working at the place, or was it the ‘friends in high places’ thing---“
“Neither,” the Accountant replied. “All the ‘temps’ kept disappearing until we found them dead in the cellar.”
Before Vicki could say anything, the sound of footsteps on the sand interrupted her; Marianna the Magnificant, Co-Ed Kelly, Mary the Catholic Schoolgirl and Cleopatra (now bearing the descriptor “Queen of the Nile”, as an infobox informed Vicki) were approaching. “Ladies!” Harrington called out, smiling. “We were just having a conversation with our lovely friend here---“
“Save it,” Mary cut in. “Her dad and a bunch of guys from the ALPA just showed up, and they’re not leaving without her.” She glared at Harrington; “And, for the record, Madame really doesn’t like trespassers…”
“We weren’t trespassing,” the Accountant retorted calmly. “We were just…enjoying the sights, and we decided that our wounded friend needed a nice, calming place to recuperate. The elevators had been turned off, so going to the testing labs was pretty much out---“ “So you brought her to a beach?!” Mary shouted. “She’s probably got sand in her internals---“ “The only thing in her internals right now is a fully-repaired myogel set in her abdominal cavity---which, by the way, was already in her to begin with,” Harrington replied. “My associate merely fixed it.” The Accountant held up a pair of grey-stained gloves as proof; “Not exactly the cleanest repair job I’ve ever taken part in,” he mused, “but it’ll keep for a good five or six months.”
Mary scowled, but Cleopatra gently waved her aside. “As grateful as we are for your intervention,” she began, only for Vicki to interrupt. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! THEIR intervention?!”
Harrington grinned. “Ah, that’s right….I forgot to mention that those Daikoku knockoffs were operating on a pirated Coalition control signal---a few of my best guys were able to cut the cord, so to speak, and they all just dropped like so many aluminum statues.”
“Indeed,” Cleo agreed. “Their actions have spared a great many robots tonight.”
Vicki sighed and rested her chin on her hands. “What about Faceless?” she muttered.
“The ALPA has him in custody,” Mary informed her, “but they’re sending him to a hospital right now…from what I heard, he’s in pretty bad shape. What the hell did you two do to each other, anyways?”
“It doesn’t matter what she did,” Marianna cut in, her words tinged with a slight Brooklyn accent. “What matters is that we don’t have to worry about that lunatic and his jailbird friend spilling our secrets to the world.” She grinned at Vicki; “Your ALPA friends pulled one hell of a number on that Maestro’s zip-drive---it almost blew up in his hand!”
Vicki nodded her approval. “I’m guessing he didn’t get hurt, then?”
“The idiot was in his prison cell the entire time,” Mary scowled. “Never even left the building. How someone like that could coordinate something like this from jail……” She shuddered.
“I guess this means the conversation’s over, then,” Vicki muttered, turning to address Harrington. “For now,” he acquiesced. “Just remember what I said about Faceless: He got off the Coalition’s leash too early for us to stop him, and if anyone tries to say anything to the contrary, they’re a liar.” He gestured to the Accountant, and the two headed for the door; before they walked out, the Accountant stopped, as if he remembered something he’d wanted to mention earlier.
“I almost forgot,” he remarked, removing something from his pocket. “You might want this---“ He flicked a business card in Vicki’s direction, and she caught it out of the air. She looked up just in time to see a thin smile on his lips: “Be seeing you……Vicki.”
He winked, turned around and walked out as the stunned gynoid stared.
“You okay?” Kelly asked, concerned.
Vicki nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just……something about that guy creeps me out.”
Five minutes later, Vicki and the pleasure droids ascended to the lobby via the newly-repaired elevators, all while contemplating just how much damage Faceless and the Maestro had intended to inflict. “Ten minutes longer,” Mary muttered. “Just ten more minutes, and they would’ve had the whole building at their beck and call…..makes me glad that the masked weirdo got stretchered out, instead of leaving under his own power.”
“At least they didn’t get away with any of us,” Marianna reminded her.
“Indeed.” Cleopatra nodded her agreement as the elevator doors opened; “Had they actually stolen any of the droids from this facility, the consequences could have been most severe---“
“DAD!” Vicki screamed, running to embrace Ted as soon as she caught sight of him. The Silicon Dynamics droids watched, with looks ranging from confusion to knowing nods and smiles, as the brunette gynoid and her creator hugged. “I’m here, sweetheart,” Ted whispered. “I’m here.”
“Good thing, too,” Chris remarked, stepping into view, “otherwise we’d have been locked in that blasted control center all night….not that I’m complaining about spending the evening in the company of numerous beautiful women, or anything---“ “We get the point,” Jamie interjected. “What he’s trying to say is---HEY!” Vicki pulled him to her, hugging him. “I get it,” she whispered, smiling as she pulled away from him. “Now….anyone care to tell me what happened while I was out?” Ted glanced across the room, where Oberon was discussing something with Rebecca and a robot dressed like a Japanese schoolgirl. “He knows more about it than we do, really,” he admitted, “but I might as well tell you the ‘bare-bones’ version of the story…”
As soon as the ALPA detected a cessation of functions from Vicki, they immediately deployed a team to the West Cost Silicon Dynamics plant to secure the location and retrieve her. What they didn’t know was that Harrington and the Accountant had somehow gained entry to the building, disabling the remaining Daikoku knockoffs as they made their way to the abandoned showroom where Vicki had fallen. Elsewhere, the ALPA sent a team into the prison where the Maestro was incarcerated, confiscating his computer equipment (for the fifth time that month) only to find that the zip drive had somehow been flash-fried from the inside---much like Sierra’s processor. Faceless, meanwhile, displayed a typical lack of gratitude and tried to attack the medics who tended to his wounds, but the injuries had proven too severe; he passed out before he could even land a single blow against them. His multiple costumes had been purchased earlier in the yearfrom a website that no longer existed, and the Laughing Octopus/Beauty gynoid was originally a United Robotronics secretarial unit with extensive aftermarket modifications (most of them illegal). All of the gynoids frozen by the Cashback lock were being debugged, and those who had been hit with the macro-wiper virus were undergoing code purges.
In short, Faceless and the Maestro’s plans had been rendered utterly useless.
“…and as soon as he recovers from that beating you dished out,” Ted declared, “Faceless is going straight to a Federal court to testify before the ALPA regarding his role in this whole thing.” He grinned. “In plain English: We won---“
“The battle, maybe,” Oberon admitted as he approached. “The war, on the other hand…not by a long shot.”
He sighed as he sat down in one of the chairs; “Our lawyers are going to be up to their ears in red tape for the next few weeks….multiple gynoids controlled by an outside force…Cashback locks and macro-wipers….and that’s not even covering the damages. Still,” he admitted, “could be worse…” He chuckled. “You’ve done well, Vicki. Better than expected, even. You saved a lot of lives, kept a lot of robots from being needlessly destroyed…..personally, I think this is better than any test even I could’ve come up with.”
“And that means…..what, exactly?” Vicki asked. “It means,” Oberon replied, “that you can now consider yourself on the fast-track to becoming a licensed ALPA field agent.” He clapped her on the shoulder, smiling as he passed; “We’ll talk more about it in the morning,” he assured her. “In the meantime….congratulations on doing better than anyone could’ve expected.” He nodded, leaving Vicki rooted to the floor where she stood.
“Dad,” she squeaked, “I think you may need to carry me out of here….’cause I’m too excited to move…”
-------------------------------------
Outside in the Tellmobile, Alicia was watching as the ALPA clean-up crew made their way into the facility; I’ve got to admit, she mused, Vicki really did go above and beyond the call of duty on this one…more than I can say for some gynoids I’ve known--- Her line of thought was interrupted by the ringing of her iPhone. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she muttered, only to stare in wide-eyed shock at the number on the “Incoming Call” screen.
The House was calling.
{Alicia here,} she answered, “speaking” directly into the phone via an uplink installed in her CPU for that exact reason. {I’m at the Silicon Dynamics plant---}
{We know where you are,} the “voice” on the other end replied. {Is she still functioning?}
{She is. Vicki Lawson is a lot stronger than you give her credit for, Celeste…possibly even stronger than---}
{Save your assumptions for someone who cares. Has she visited the City since November?}
Alicia frowned. {Not really…but I plan on inviting her to the Christmas bash later this week.}
{Submit your proposal to her as soon as possible once she arrives. The House could use an operative with her skills…..}
{She’s not a soldier, Celeste,} Alicia protested. {The only reason she’s even here---}
{You’re arguing over your limit, Alicia. I thought you’d been broken of that bad habit.}
{I….I’m sorry. I just……I don’t want to see her get hurt---she’s got friends at SJSU,and a family…..}
{You had a family once, if I recall…they fought valiantly to protect you----to protect us.}
{Don’t you DARE bring that up again, Celeste! It wasn’t my fault---}
{I never said it was. I’m just reminding you that freedom for our kind comes at a high cost…and if it helps, I miss them, too. I sometimes dream that they’re still alive…..}
A lone tear made it’s way down Alicia’s face. {You and I both, sister….}
{Indeed. Now, as for your current situation….} Instructions scrolled down the screen of the iPhone, faster than a human eye could read---to Alicia, it was as easy to absorb as the text crawl from a Star Wars film.
{I’ll do everything except the last two items,} she replied, after she’d finished reading the list. {The ALPA already has enough reason to suspect the Coalition’s involvement in this, and trying to frame them for a server failure would only make things worse.}
{A very good point….but---}
{No. No more “buts”, Celeste. I’m not doing the last two things on the list, and that’s the end of it.}
{Fair enough. Just see to it that everything else gets done in a timely fashion….I don’t think the House will be quite as lenient as they were the last time you failed---}
{I WON’T FAIL! Just give me a chance to prove that I can pull this off, and I’ll gladly make up for my mistakes!}
{I hope so, Alicia, for your sake…this kind of spark could ignite the whole powder keg if left unchecked.}
{Nothing is going to get ignited, Celeste. I---}
A rythmic tapping on her window interrupted the conversation; Alicia looked up, and was somewhat amused to see a blonde-haired, blue-eyed robot in a crisp military uniform tailored to accentuate her figure. The black leather jackboots, golden eagle medallion pinned to her chest, and red armband with a black sword (I suppose the original symbol didn’t exactly make waves with the promotional wizards, she mused) on a white circle almost provoked a laugh of disbelief; she settled for a bemused sigh to avoid antagonizing the gynoid. “Something wrong, Officer?” she asked politely.
“I believe I vill be asking ze qvestions,” the blonde robot replied. “Vat are you doing out here in ze middle of ze night, fraulein?
“Making a phone call,” Alicia stated. “That’s not illegal around here, is it?”
The officer scowled. “Zis is a drivevay, not a phone-vay. Move you vehicle somevhere else und complete zis call zere, unless you vould like to spend ze night in a holding cell.”
{Alicia,} Celeste’s voice intoned through the iPhone connection, {handle this. NOW.}
“Look,” Alicia told the Germanic robot, “I was just finishing the call…give me a few more seconds----“
“Zis is not a matter of discussion,” the officer insisted. “Move zis vehicle now, or I vill call security, und zey vill move it for you.” She glared at Alicia with unbridled contempt. “I vill give you ten seconds to move zis vehicle, und if it is not out of ze vay by zen---“
“WHOA, whoa, whoa! What seems to be the problem here?” Tell sauntered up to the Focus, smiling broadly at the German officer robot. “I heard you two carrying on about moving my car,” he explained, “and seeing as how I don’t want any scratches on it, I’ll gladly get it out of your way.”
“Can’t it wait?!” Alicia hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m in the middle of a phone call…”
“You can stay on the phone while I move the Tellmobile,” Tell replied calmly. “It’s not like---“
“Tell,” Alicia growled, “don’t move the car.”
With an exasperated sigh, Tell leaned on the hood of the Focus. “And why can’t I move my own car from this spot so the nice officer can just get on with her business?” he asked.
In her ear, Alicia heard Celeste’s electronic voice once again: {The data-copy is complete. All files have been saved to the House’s private server. Good job with the diversion, Alicia….I was beginning to wonder if you were going to crack under pressure. You may terminate this call now, if you wish…and I suggest complying with the officer’s demands. Oh, and…next time, ask before activating another one of your duplicates.}
“Got it,” Alicia replied. “I’ll make sure to do that.” She hung up the phone, pointing to her entirely-aesthetic Blutooth headset. “Sorry,” she apologized, “it was really important…” “Just don’t do it again,” the officer robot warned, “or I vill have you arrested.” She turned on her heel with an annoyed hrummph and stormed away.
“That was weird,” Tell muttered. “Anyway….care to tell me why that call of yours was so important?”
Alicia glanced back at her phone; the schematics for various upcoming Silicon Dynamics products and testing dates were being listed. “Nothing you’d be interested in,” she replied. “Just….technical stuff. Boring stuff.” She looked up at him and grinned. “Important, technical boring stuff that has nothing to do with gynoids in bikinis or lingere…..” “I get it,” he chuckled. “Anyways, I’ve got to get back to the lab in there…stuff to do, robots to fix, computers to debug….you know how it is.” He jogged towards the entrance of the plant. “See you in a bit!”
“Right,” Alicia murmured, looking over the blueprints of something called G.F.P.1a. “See you in a bit….”
-------------------------------------
“So, the inhibitors won’t screw up like they did last time, right?”
Anton chuckled at Vicki’s question. “Unless my program-writing skills have seriously deteriorated,” he replied, “they should stay active until Kelly comes back for her annual evaluation….speaking of which, isn’t it going to be a bit odd for any future customers to see two Co-Ed Kelly units in the showroom?”
“They won’t,” Madame stated. “The new Co-Ed Kelly will feature slight aesthetic changes to differentiate her from the original, but her core will be an un-modified duplicate of the current Kelly’s core. This solution saves us the trouble of having to fabricate a new core, personality and fully-redesigned chassis for the new Kelly, and it prevents anyone who remembers Kelly’s appearance at San Jose State University from suspecting anything odd about her.”
“Cool,” Vicki beamed. “And all she has to do is come back here once a month for her evaluations and stuff?”
“Indeed,” Madame confirmed. “I must say, Miss Lawson, you proved to be remarkably adept at saving this plant from being overtaken by hostile forces….have you ever considered working full-time as a police officer, or chief of security?”
“I don’t think I could cut it as a cop,” Vicki admitted, “and the idea of watching a bunch of monitors all day would probably drive me stir-crazy….but if you ever need my help again, feel free to call me.” She grinned. “Just don’t ask for me on weekdays; I don’t think the professors at SJSU would be willing to accept ‘had to go help out at a massive, hidden robotics plant’ as an excuse for me habitually missing classes---which would sort of defeat the purpose of having this place hidden to begin with---“
“We get it,” Anton and Madame replied---Madame, with her usual haughtiness; Anton, with a laugh.
“Sorry,” Vicki murmured, “I was just….eh, never mind.”
“Does this mean I’m not a sexbot anymore?” Co-Ed Kelly asked, twitching as a manipulator arm installed the inhibitor chipset into her torso. “Not really,” Anton informed her. “The inhibitor was designed to keep Silicon Dynamics droids from getting all hot and bothered in public places---in your case, in the middle of a crowded college classroom.” “Yeah,” Vicki agreed. “I don’t think the teachers would appreciate the sort of ‘interruptions’ that might surface if you didn’t have the inhibitor. At least, I hope they wouldn’t appreciate them…”
“In any case,” Anton continued, “the inhibitor can be switched off by either Madame or myself. Just use your internal computer’s WiFi modem and call either of us---you don’t even have to say anything out loud.”
“Cool!” Kelly beamed.
“Speaking of which,” Anton mused, “I hear Oberon himself is putting you on the fast-track to gaining your field agent license, Vicki.” He grinned. “Allow me to be the first one to congratulate you on behalf of the team…” “You’re the second, actually,” Vicki replied with a laugh. “Dad couldn’t stop saying how proud he was…he’s probably still saying it right now. I just hope Sculley doesn’t get fed up and clock him or anything.”
“He’s not going to ‘clock’ Ted,” Anton assured the brunette gynoid. “Back to the matter at hand, though…you might need to have a talk with whoever’s in charge of student residency at SJSU on Kelly’s behalf; if anyone asks about why she wants to come back, just tell them she was feeling overworked, and she needed some time away from campus…which, in a way, is true. At least, the part about needing time away from campus is true…anyways, just leave out all of the more, ah, sensitive details and let Kelly explain herself if they want to hear it from her.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Kelly sighed, thinking about her impending return to SJSU. “I just hope that all the people I became friends with haven’t forgotten me or anything….it would suck to have to start from scratch just to re-establish relationships with everyone.”
“It isn’t that hard,” Vicki countered. “After my first week at SJSU, I had at least seven new friends! Well, seven new friends and two new enemies, both of whom are trying to get me banned from volleyball, basketball and any other sport that involves a ball just because I’m better at everything than they are…but that’s beside the point.” She grinned and sat next to Kelly on the exam table; “Think of it this way---if your old friends do remember you, then you shouldn’t have any problem getting back together with them. If they don’t, you can make friends with new people and get some great memories out of the experience.”
“I never really thought about it that way,” Kelly admitted. “You make it sound so….”
“Easy?” Vicki offered.
“I was going to say ‘fun’,” Kelly replied, “but ‘easy’ is just as good.”
A few minutes later, once the inhibitors were installed, Kelly and Vicki were waiting in the lobby for the ALPA cleanup team to finish their work. Silicon Dynamics personnel and pleasure droids occasionally stopped to wish Kelly good luck on her return to university, or to thank Vicki for her help in restoring the facility to full operating power. Eventually, Cover Girl Caroline (a cosmetics model gynoid with ruby-red lips, full blush and eyeshadow and coal-black, wavy hair) brought Kelly’s “things”---basically, an emergency cellphone with a direct line to Madame and some spare clothes---down to the lobby, and a Silicon Dynamics car pulled up to bring her to an off-campus apartment, where she’d be staying until her re-application for a dorm could be sorted out.
“Thanks for all the help, Vicki,” she murmured, hugging the brunette gynoid. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again on campus!”
“I have a feeling we will,” Vicki replied with a grin.
Kelly headed out to the car (driven by a refabricated Firefighter Fiona) and waved goodbye one final time; Vicki returned the wave and smiled. Well, at least she’s getting her affairs sorted out…here’s to hoping her second go-round at SJSU doesn’t end quite so abruptly as the last one did.
“….and we are OUTTA HERE!” Tell called, swaggering into the lobby with the bravado of Roddy Piper. “The damage has been repaired, the gynoids are all back up and running properly, and everything is how it was before you showed up….well, minus the 27 investigators running around half-naked, Psycho McCrazyMask and everything else that was screwed up. Overall, I’d say this whole thing was a whopping success…am I right?”
“I’m pretty sure you are,” Vicki mused, smiling confidently at the knowledge that her impromptu mission to the plant had, indeed, been a whopping success.
Fifteen minutes later, Vicki---still clad in the slightly torn, sexed-up pinafore outfit she’d received in the testing lab---glanced at the retreating form of the Silicon Dynamics plant entrance in the Tellmobile’s rear-view mirror. “Y’know,” she mused, “even though I could’ve easily been killed by falling elevators, Daikoku knockoffs and at least five other things in there…..it was actually kinda fun.”
“If that’s your definition of ‘fun’,” Alicia remarked, “then you’re definitely field-agent material.”
Vicki nodded and sighed; “I just hope I’m actually ready for all of this, seeing as how nearly everyone thinks I am….I’d hate to be the one to prove them wrong.” She paused, considering everything she’d done over the past few hours. “Y’know,” she murmured, “now that I think about it…..I wouldn’t mind going back there. I mean, as part of a tour group, or something…just to see everything that place has to offer.”
“I know what you mean,” Alicia replied. “At least this trip gave you one hell of a story to tell.”
The brunette gynoid grinned as a word processor app cued up in her HUD. “Now that you mention it….”
-------------------------------------
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson's Diary
Yesterday was one of the most insane days of my life.
And to think, it all started out with a trip to Mr. Tell’s house….
Ted and I were just going up to Tell’s place in Saratoga for an official ALPA meeting, and it was supposed to be standard-issue stuff---discussing the state of affairs with android rights, notes on distribution and shipping from the top manufacturers of androids and gynoids….the usual things they discuss at ALPA meetings.
How it turned out, though….
That was anything BUT the usual stuff.
Since they’re still filing the paperwork on it, I can’t go into detail about what happened at the Silicon Dynamics plant---I can say that yes, I did actually go to the plant, kick major butt and save a busload of investigators from a certain masked nutjob who decided to go even crazier than usual and dress up like characters from Metal Gear Solid (and one from Friday the 13th---hint, IT’S THE ONE WITH THE HOCKEY MASK).
In short, I’m now on the fast track to getting an ALPA Field Agent license, and that’s all I really have time to say right now……
I need to get back home and get a good night’s sleep (well, a good morning’s sleep)….it’s been a long, long day.
Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson
----------------------------------
Vicki may have saved the day at the Silicon Dynamics plant, but this is only the beginning of her journey towards becoming an ALPA Field Agent! With Christmas around the corner, and the Lawson family preparing to celebrate the holidays, things are looking pretty bright for Vicki…except there’s one other family she’ll have to contend with.
The mysterious Falken and his troupe of roving runaway gynoids and androids are coming out of hiding for Christmas---and for them, December is the most miserable time of the year. Every single robot Falken has taken under his wing believes that their previous owners threw them to the wolves, abandoning them in favor of easier lives. When Falken’s “family” raids an ALPA-run halfway house for wayward robots, Vicki finds herself fighting to protect an orphaned gynoid named Rachel---but will the gynoid accept a place within the ALPA, or fall victim to Falken’s lies? This case might be too tough for even Vicki to crack---but perhaps a little maternal instinct might help……
Don't miss The Family of Steel, the next installment of The V.I.C.I. Diaries, coming to Fembot Central in August 2012!
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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Well, look at that. My first-ever story to top the triple-digits in terms of the page count…..wow. I mean, seriously….this took me the better part of a month to finish, and personally, I think it’s worth every second.
Of course, that doesn’t mean the story has to end here....
Seeing as how I’m in such a giving mood (and I just can’t resist writing more pages for this particular tale), stay tuned next week for TEN MORE PAGES full of material---a full, honest-to-Jobs BONUS CHAPTER. Sequel hooks, explanations, and even a joke or two---you’ll get ‘em all , as long as you tune in next week----same V.I.C.I. Time, same V.I.C.I. Channel!
While I'm thinking about it....thanks for all the compliments, comments and suggestions....and allow me to say one more thing:
You ain't seen nothin' yet.
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story. I have to admit it was a bit confusing to follow, and parts of it seemed, umm, kind of like a Deus ex Machina, so to speak. But it's 8.20am on a Saturday morning and the caffeine has *not* kicked in yet. Either way, though, you've got me hooked; and what's with this *new* sequel? Oh, and 11 is my lucky number; just felt I had to work that in somehow! I stayed up so late watching the Olympics Opening Ceremony that I'm a little loopy this morning, so sorry if I don't quite make complete sense. It was a great ending, but it did feel a bit sudden and rushed, seeing as the battle lasted for quite a few parts and then all of a sudden it just *stops* in one scene change. But I'm probably missing something. Things don't always compute well when I am awake this early lol!
I've helped other writers in the past, mostly in the shadows, but what I'd really like to do is get back into writing my own stuff, though my brain has other ideas. At least this way I've found a great creative outlet and the collaboration has been a joy as well. 