At this point, I have to set aside the story for one second and thank LongTimeLurker for allowing me to use Sillicon Dynamics and the pleasure droids contained therein from his stories---"Prototype" and "Field Test"---for this installment of the V.I.C.I. Diaries. Without his support, "Metal Gear Vicki" would be a very different tale, and probably one that isn't half as good as what I came up with.
Right....enough of me rambling. Enjoy the story!
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“I know Mr. Tell is a close friend of the family, and I owe him for pretty much every single time he’s saved me from getting bricked, scrapped and/or fragged….but does he have to keep the Christmas music turned on at maximum volume? I mean, we’re not even near his house, and I’m pretty sure I can hear ‘Jingle Bells’….”
As Ted Lawson navigated the roads up to Mr. Tell’s house, he couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Vicki, he’s what most people would call….hmm, what’s the polite word…” “Eccentric, maybe?” Vicki offered. “I mean, the last time I saw him this month, he was dressed like a tie-dyed Santa Claus!” “He does like the Christmas season,” Ted chuckled. “It’s part of what makes him so interesting---and that ‘tie-dye Santa Claus’ look is also his way of paying tribute to Apple Computers, in case you didn’t know.”
“I do now,” Vicki muttered.
After a whole month of missions that involved tailing shipments, listening in on clandestine meetings and using a prototype remote scanner (which broke after the third use), Vicki had apparently gathered enough information to earn a place at an ALPA meeting---which, for some strange reason, was being held at Mr. Tell’s house. Ted was especially ecstatic; “I’ve heard the head of Daikoku Zaibatsu might be there,” he gushed. “Where have I heard that name before?” Vicki pondered. “They make labor androids, mostly,” Ted replied, “but rumor has it they might be moving into….let’s say, more exotic fields.”
Vicki groaned. “Don’t tell me they’re making pleasure droids…”
Ted nearly crashed the car into a lamppost. “What?! I mean….well, they might be…..”
“I already know about Silicon Dynamics, Dad,” Vicki reminded him, arching an eyebrow and leaning on her arm rest. “Does Joan know you’ve been getting their catalog in the mail for the past few months, or---“
“That catalog is for----how did you even know I get the Silicon Dynamics catalog?!” Ted sputtered.
“You leave your mail out on the counter,” Vicki replied, smiling sweetly.
“Well, that catalog is not being used for….whatever purpose you think it’s being used for,” Ted insisted. “The reason I get the Silicon Dynamics catalog is to read up on the specs of all their products; I’ve been seeing quite a few of them at the Lawson Robotics repair center lately.” “Hopefully, with more clothes on than they’re wearing in the catalog photos,” Vicki mused. “Seriously, if Joan ever finds out---“
“Why is it that you call me ‘dad’, but you never call Joan ‘mom’?” Ted interrupted.
Vicki was taken aback by the question. “Well…I call her ‘mom’ sometimes….”
“It’s okay,” Ted replied, grinning. “It’s not that big of a deal. Granted, that whole lottery winning thing has kept her out of the Valley a lot longer than I expected…”
“At least she wasn’t here when Alicia had to stay overnight,” Vicki remarked. “Remember that one morning when you went downstairs for breakfast, and she was doing yoga---butt-naked?” “I’m driving right now, Vicki,” Ted muttered, “and you reminding me of that incident is really distracting….” “Right, right,” Vicki replied, smiling sweetly once again. “You don’t have to say you weren’t impressed, though…” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “I won’t tell Mom!” Ted chuckled. “Of course you won’t….because if she finds out, she’ll kick me out of the house for a month and keep you on security detail.”
“She’d probably sell your golf clubs, too,” Vicki reminded him, grinning brightly.
Ted glanced at her, frowning; “Don’t joke about that, Vicki. Ever.”
The two continued their chat on the way to Tell’s house, contemplating the importance of the meeting. “Hardcastle’s going to be there,” Ted informed the brunette gynoid, “along with Anton Malvineous…and while I’m thinking about it, don’t ask him why you couldn’t get the internship position even though you had the best qualifications for the job.”
Vicki sulked. “I was a lot better than that idiot he had to choose---“
“That idiot only got hired because they’re the son of a major ALPA financier,” Ted declared. “Not to mention that Anton was forced to hire him even though he’s---well, I might as well say it---HE’S INCOMPETENT!”
“Dad,” Vicki sighed, “let it go. I’m sure he’ll get himself fired sooner or later….”
“I hope so,” Ted replied. “I mean, when we went there for the interview, he was looking at you like you were a side of beef….and drooling, for Pete’s sake! Either he’s got a severe brain cell deficiency, or he’s thinking with the last part of his body that he should be thinking with! He looked like Private Pyle on sedatives! I don’t even think he could tell an actuator from an alternator! I mean, he thought V.I.C.I. stood for Va---“
“I get it,” Vicki monotoned.
“I know,” Ted sighed. “I just…..Anton and I knew you were the best candidate, but… this was just nepotism, plain and simple.”
“If it helps,” Vicki offered, “I don’t think he’s going to last long there anyways….from what I heard before we had to leave, he wasn’t exactly making a lot of friends amongst the staff. Something about him using the trash can outside Anton’s office as a toilet….” She rolled her eyes. “If he keeps pulling stunts like that, he’ll get sacked in no time.”
The conversation shifted back to the focus of the meeting. “Why are all these important people going to be there, exactly?” Vicki asked. “Well,” Ted explained, “the ALPA usually has most of the major robotics company heads meet in a secure location the week before Christmas to hash out the quotas and details for manufacturing, supply, shipping, new product development….all that good stuff. And before you ask, Tell’s house is the most secure location we could get this year, considering the HP Pavilion got booked at the last second… Anyways, these kinds of meetings can lead to some bad blood between rival CEOs, or more commonly, bad decisions---last year, Hreftech held the meeting at their HQ, and the CEO of Midland Heights Automation Incorporated showed up drunk….it did not end well.”
“Keg stands and cop cars, eh?” Vicki quipped. “It was a lot worse than ‘keg stands’, “ Ted replied. “The guy was virutally ripping the clothes off of the poor girl serving hoers d’ourves, saying he was going to ‘ride her like a bronco’….it didn’t help that the girl was the fiancee of someone from Daikoku Zaibatsu….”
“Was she okay?” Vicki asked. “After the whole ‘getting her clothes ripped off’ thing, I mean.”
“She was built to withstand that sort of thing,” Ted admitted, “so…yes. She was fine. Of course, her groom-to-be was furious; MHA Inc. has been banned from ALPA meetings ever since. Seeing as how their sales have been dropping faster than the proverbial lead zeppelin, though….anyways, that’s not the point. I hear that this year’s meeting is going to be a biggie, especially considering all the stunts United Robotronics has been pulling lately. Case in point---they backed Victor Vega as the new ReVerse CEO…..” “Don’t start about Victor Vega,” Vicki warned. “Every time that guy shows up on the ALPA radar, I end up right in the middle of it….”
After a few more minutes of navigating the Saratoga roads, Vicki and Ted reached Mr. Tell’s house. “Seeing as how some of the highest-profile names in the robotics market are going to be here,” Ted instructed, “try not to do or say anything that might make a….negative impression. Be polite, but don’t brown-nose; ah, don’t talk about Victor Vega, ‘cause you’re not the only one who hates his guts, and---“
“Dad,” Vicki interjected, grinning, “I get it.”
Ted parked the car and retrieved a binder from the trunk; he’d been looking forward to giving his presentation on Lawson Robotics’ massive sales increase since the previous year. Vicki, on the other hand, was more preoccupied with Tell’s fence; “Is that thing even legal?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
The fence---a series of metal slats arranged like 7s with the flat section facing towards the street---was set up so that Tell could see anything and everything outside the yard, but nobody outside could get so much as a glance inside. “It’s ALPA-issue, so…yes,” Ted replied, grinning. “It’s not just legal, Vicki…it’s necessary; Tell does some of his more…confidential work at home, so even the smallest of security measures like this can work to his advantage.”
“Good thing, too,” a familiar voice called out, “because I don’t think the lookie-loos would be willing to hear any explanations as to why my insides look like something from a Dell Repair Center…”
As soon as she cleared the security gate, Vicki couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Claudia---the gynoid CEO of DreamLand (a “dating service plus” that paired clients with androids and gynoids)---sunning herself in a deck chair, her tanned stomach missing a large rectangular section that, if anything, only added to the allure of her bikini-clad form. “Nice to see that the explosion didn’t ruin your personality,” Ted remarked, smiling. “I owe you for that, to be honest,” Claudia replied. “Your company saved me from the scrap heap when everyone else told me I wouldn’t even make it to Christmas…that, by itself, is proof that you’re one of the best.” “Not the best?” Ted gasped, feigning indignance. “Top Three,” Claudia replied, chuckling.
“Sorry to interrupt, but have any ‘luminaries of the robotics profession’ arrived yet?” Vicki asked, as Claudia got up from the deck chair. “Or did we somehow manage to arrive early?” “Hardcastle, Malvineous and a representative from ART are already inside,” Claudia replied, “and the vice-president of Daikoku Zaibatsu is set to be here in five minutes. Hreftech’s supposedly sending someone as well…and, obviously, I’m here.” She smiled, revealing her perfectly-crafted teeth.
“Cool!” Vicki beamed. “Do they all…well, know what I am?”
“Hreftech has heard some of the more interesting stories,” Claudia informed her, “and they’re very interested in meeting you in person. I think the VP of Daikoku knows…ART is in the dark, though, mainly because they’re focused on a few other projects at the moment.” She grinned again. “Unless you want to admire the view from Tell’s yard, I suggest going inside….” “Great idea!” Ted actually shouted, nearly bowling over the honey-blonde gynoid as he ran for the door.
“Is something wrong with him?” she asked Vicki.
“He’s trying not to let his mind get overtaken by thoughts of half-naked gynoids,” Vicki replied. “I mentioned the Silicon Dynamics catalog on the way over here, and he nearly crashed into a lamp post!” “Well, he is married to a wonderful woman,” Claudia conceeded, “though, personally, I think he could use some major stress relief…” Vicki tried not to think of the sort of “relief” Claudia had just alluded to as she followed the gynoid into Tell’s house. “Just don’t bring up your particular philosophy of ‘stress relief’ while Ted’s talking to anyone important,” she requested as Claudia let her into the house. “The last thing I want is him trying to have a conversation with the VP of Daikoku while simultaneously trying not to stare at any of the gynoids that are probably lounging around.”
“He should seriously look into a vacation, then,” Claudia replied. “It’d probably be the best thing for him…”
“I’ve tried to talk him into spending a day at Great America in Santa Clara,” Vicki insisted, “but he keeps saying that he’s got ‘too much work to do’ and all that stuff….One of these days, I’m just going to wait until he falls asleep, bring him out to the car, buckle him in and drive him there myself. At this rate, I’ll have to resort to either doing that or….something.” Claudia chuckled. “I suggest we continue this discussion after the meeting; otherwise, we’ll miss all the important stuff.”
Vicki nodded, allowing the older gynoid to lead the way; “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all morning…”
As soon as she stepped through the front door, she found herself suddenly unable to speak.
Tell’s house…..was incredible.
Given the condition of his shop---well-organized, yet somewhat industrial and occasionally uninviting---the setup of the rooms before her seemed to give the exact opposite impression. Everything that could be painted had been given warm, welcoming colors; the floors---much to her surprise---were heated just enough to warrant the removal of shoes at the door. Even more intriguing, the house didn’t seem to follow a conventional layout; just through the front door, Vicki could spy the kitchen, with a three-way branching hallway beyond that. To her left was the den (where most of the guests had already gathered, with a hall on the far end leading to a bathroom and a guest bedroom; to the right, the living room/study, with a closed door bearing a hastily-written sign to notify all that the room was “off-limits”.
“This…..is so cool,” the brunette gynoid muttered, awed.
“THERE you are!” Ted called out, grinning as he caught sight of his greatest creation. “I was wondering when you were going to actually get into the house…” “Claudia and I were just having a chat,” Vicki replied. “To be honest, she’s the one who suggested we join the rest of the guests.”
“A wise suggestion indeed….especially considering the fact that her stomach panel is still open.”
Claudia groaned theatrically, pretending to be annoyed with the remark; in reality, the observation put forth by Anton Malvineous was a valid one. “It’s great to see you again, Claudia,” he informed the gynoid, kissing her hand respectfully. “Likewise,” she replied. “How’s the…ah, new intern coming along?” Vicki immediately frowned, and Ted started counting the ceiling tiles; to their surprise, Anton’s reply was nowhere near as bad as they thought it was going to be: “He isn’t.”
“He….wait, what?!” Vicki gasped. “You mean you actually fired him?” Ted sputtered. Neither of them could believe what they’d heard….fortunately, Anton was all too happy to elaborate.
“Remember the IQ test the interviewees were administered?” he asked; Ted and Vicki both nodded. “Well,” Anton informed the two, “it turns out that a certain someone paid good money to have his son’s results---which were absolutely terrible, by the way---forged and re-submitted. I knew as soon as I read the answers that something was off, but seeing as how we might have lost a substantial amount of funding if I dared to say anything…” He sighed. “Fortunately, that certain someone who forged the results just got sent up the river for bank fraud. The slimeball couldn’t even borrow enough money to finance M-G Cybernetics’ latest project, AND his so-called ‘company’ had folded two years ago!”
“So….his son got fired?” Vicki assumed.
“Not just fired,” Anton replied, “but banned for life. It didn’t help that we found him trying to ride the secretary around the lobby like a mechanical bull…one of my interns caught the idiot smacking the poor girl on the rear, trying to use her charging cord like a lasso. I nearly tore up a staircase running down there---I knocked him out with a left cross as soon as I was close enough, and I made sure he was hauled off in handcuffs.”
“And how is the ‘poor girl’ doing now?” Ted asked.
“We had to send her back to Silicon Dynamics,” Anton replied, his expression darkening. “Her inhibitor program nearly failed when that moron kept spanking her, and if I’d have been just a few seconds late…” “She’d have done a striptease in front of your potential clients,” Claudia muttered. “No wonder you made sure the little turd was dragged off….I’d have kicked him right in the gonads just to make sure he never tried a stunt like that again!” “From what I hear, he got a boot to the groin as soon as he was out the door,” Anton informed her. “Apparently, he tried to get fresh with the arresting officer…they’re talking about sending him to rehab.”
“Forget rehab,” Claudia spat. “Give him the Bob Barker and throw him in a rest home!”
“Ooookaaay,” Vicki drawled, clearly not in the mood to hear anyone go on about “the Bob Barker” or other such topics. “Can we please talk about something else now?”
“That sounds like a very good idea, Miss Lawson.”
Vicki turned to address the newcomer and found herself staring at a well-dressed, mid-to-late 20s Japanese man. “You must be the vice-president of Daikoku Zaibatsu,” Ted mused, extending his hand. “Head of project coordination, actually,” the man replied, shaking Ted’s hand. “Regretfully, the vice-president became ill last night…the in-flight meal apparently didn’t agree with him.” His voice dropped to a near whisper; “The catering staff is currently being questioned about any suspicious individuals tampering with the food…we’ve already lost three senior staff members this year, and their deaths are still unsolved.”
Despite a burning desire to ask why someone would go out of their way to kill staff members from a robotics company, Vicki decided instead to introduce herself to the newcomer. “Seeing as how I don’t want to break protocol or anything,” she informed him, “I might as well introduce myself---Vicki Lawson, daughter of Ted Lawson and ALPA member since…this August, actually.” The man smiled. “I am Yuusuke Kishin Kojima, head of Project Coordination and Research at Daikoku Zaibatsu…and, for the record, I prefer going by the name Kishin.” He shook hands with Vicki. “You’re…a most interesting individual, from what I’ve heard; my assistant tells me you’re acquainted with the pop singer Sophia Starlet, for instance.” “I met her last month,” the gynoid replied, “and we sort of hit it off from there.”
Her gaze drifted to the room beyond; two gynoids---one a tanned strawberry-blonde clad in pajamas, the other a svelte, cocoa-skinned brunette in a blouse, trousers and high-heels---lounged on the couch, discussing the latest development in the Encom “hack-tacular”. General Hardcastle and a stout, swarthy man with thinning white hair were looking through a binder near a bookshelf in the corner, nodding thoughtfully and conferring in hushed tones. Through the window, Vicki spied three more gynoids---an athletic, fair-skinned babe with copper-red hair and a matching swimsuit, a slender Asian girl in a flowered swimsuit, and a caramel-skinned beauty with chestnut hair and a metallic pink bikini---swimming laps in a rather impressive pool while a guy with a mustache, goatee and red-and-gold swim trunks was either asleep or passed out on a deck chair nearby.
“Tell invited all of these people?” she murmured.
“Some of them are here to demonstrate their capabilities---sort of like a private showcase of products before they hit the market,” Kishin explained. “The girls in the pool, for instance, are from Hreftech, M-G Cybernetics and…actually, one of them is from Lawson Robotics, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Really?” Vicki drawled, glancing at Ted. “And the guy on the deckchair?” Kishin smirked; “Even though he’s recovering from his latest bout of alcoholism, Tony’s still rather fond of the ‘party all night, stay in bed all day’ mentality.” Ted scoffed. “The man’s in charge of a multibillion dollar corporation,” he muttered, “and he spends his free time passed out by swimming pools and hanging out with debutantes…” “He seems to be handling himself better than the idiots at MHA, last time I checked,” Kishin remarked.
“The conference doesn’t start until Tell gets here, right?” Vicki asked. Kishin nodded; “He’s bringing a guest, if I’m not mistaken, so he might be a while.” “In that case, I think I’m gonna go talk to the girls in the pool for a minute,” the brunette gynoid informed Ted. “That is, if it’s all right with you…”
“You’re not even wearing a swimsuit,” Ted began, only to gasp---Vicki was already peeling off the white top she wore over her shirt! “ARE YOU INSANE?!” he hissed. “YOU’RE---“ “Wearing a tastefully-designed two-piece underneath my usual outfit,” Vicki replied, grinning. “I’ll finish changing in the bathroom…it shouldn’t take too long.” She kissed him on the cheek; “I think we need to talk about getting you a nice three-week vacation after this meeting….somewhere nice, with a lot of sunshine and palm trees, y’know?”
With that, she headed to the bathroom to shed the rest of her clothes.
“She would’ve made a great Girl Scout,” Kishin mused. “She prepares for anything and everything…..”
A minute or so later, Vicki---now clad in the aforementioned tastefully designed two-piece (kitted out in red with white stripes)---descended the steps in the shallow end of the pool, watching the three gynoids she’d spotted earlier playing Marco Polo; a fourth gynoid, obscured from her previous view due to the angle of the window, was relaxing on a pool float, her tanned form and pale blond hair contrasting with the pink plastic. Tony was still passed out in the deck chair, while a redheaded woman (not a gynoid, surprisingly, Vicki noted) was making calls on her cellphone and sounding annoyed. Probably his secretary, the brunette gynoid mused.
The game of Marco Polo in the deep end had degenerated into a sort of triple-threat wrestling match, except without the benefits of a ring, turnbuckles or a referee. The tussle only lasted a few seconds or so, with the copper-haired gynoid emerging from the water with a triumphant laugh---and the Asian gynoid’s top. Another “fight” began shortly afterwards; three seconds later, the formerly topless gynoid was swimming a victory lap, once again fully clothed. “And the scoreboard reads: Sunny — zilch, Rumiko — THE WINNER,” she declared, “AND STILL UNDEFEATED CHAMPION OF SWIMMING POOL WRESTLING!” The redhead with the cellphone glared at the three, but her expression was one of weariness, not hostility. The defeated gynoid made a big show of pouting and acting as if she were offended, which would’ve looked more convincing had she kept a straight face; in the end, all three wound up laughing and splashing each other.
Having waited until the end of the “match” to intervene, Vicki applauded the performance, catching the attention of the other three. “That was pretty impressive,” she commented. “I’ve never seen someone retrieve their top that fast after losing it…”
“You should’ve seen her an hour ago,” Sunny commented, jerking a thumb at the Asian gynoid. “She tackled Crystal into the pool while they were both fully clothed, all because of a joke about J-pop singers.” “It wasn’t a joke,” Rumiko shot back. “And for the record, One Direction is not better than J-pop!” “Can we please not get into the whole ‘1D’ argument again?” the caramel-skinned gynoid muttered. “I’m trying to relax here.” “I was just saying,” Rumiko murmured, sulking.
Vicki fought the urge to giggle. “Anyways,” she prompted, “I just figured I’d take a dip and, well, introduce myself---“ “Vicki Lawson,” Sunny remarked. “We’ve heard a lot about you from the Professor.” “So I keep hearing,” Vicki replied, rolling her eyes. “I caught your name,” she informed Sunny, “and hers---“ She gestured to Rumiko, who smiled and waved. “…but what about the other two?” “The one on the inflatable raft is Meredith,” Sunny replied, “and as for the one in the teeny weeny pink bikini---“ “It is not ‘teeny-weeny’!” the chestnut-haired gynoid shouted. “Anyways,” Sunny continued, “that’s Rae, and she’s in a bit of a mood because a certain someone has been ignoring her this entire time…” She smirked and nodded towards Tony, who was finally being shaken out of his stupor by the annoyed-looking redhead.
“I always thought he was married,” Vicki mused. “Babe,” Sunny replied, draping an arm around the brunette gynoid’s shoulders, “the day any woman manages to bind him in holy matrimony is the day Hell will freeze over.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vicki promised. “On a somewhat unrelated note, I heard something about one of you having been built by Lawson Robotics…” Sunny grinned. “Guilty as charged. Merideth’s from M-G, and both Rumiko and Rae were built by Hreftech; of course, not all people prefer their girls from a company that puts more emphasis on T&A than QC…” She scowled. “Silicon Dynamics?” Vicki mused. “I actually like some of their work,” Sunny admitted, “and their quality control standards are actually pretty high…I was talking about companies like Midland Heights Automation Incorporated. I swear, they act like all gynoids are just glorified blow-up dolls….”
Vicki’s intended reply was interrupted by a shout from inside; Anton Malvineous, General Hardcastle and the stout man Hardcastle had been talking with earlier were confronting a scholarly man with a Colonel Sanders beard and a curvy blonde in a sequened gown. “Did they gate crash or something?” the brunette gynoid wondered out loud. “No,” Rae relplied, swimming closer, “but something tells me they’re about to get kicked out.” Sure enough, the usually calm Anton was screaming at the pair to leave, angrilly pointing at the door.
“Wow,” Vicki murmured. “I’ve never seen him that mad before….”
She thought of using her enhanced hearing to pick up what Anton was saying, but there was no need; he was shouting loud enough for everyone to get the message: “…AND IF YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THREATENING ME, YOU’RE EVEN MORE OF AN IDIOT THAN SHE IS!” “I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THIS!” the scholarly guy shouted back, but Anton wasn’t finished. “GET OUT! GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE BEFORE I HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR TRESPASSING! GET OUT!” The scholarly guy tried to shove his way past Anton into the kitchen, only to get punched in the face. When the blonde in the sequined gown tried to intervene, the stout man reached over behind her ear and pressed something, causing her to slump forward. “Get her out of here,” Hardcastle ordered; a girl in an olive-drab uniform nodded and helped the stout man carry the deactivated blonde outside while Anton and the scholar traded punches on the floor.
“Typical,” Rae muttered. “Only Zebediah Blunderwitz would have the brass balls and lack of brain cells to take on Anton Malvineous…” She shook her head, as if the entire exchange was already becoming boring. “If it was Tell, he probably would’ve just Maced the idiot.” Back inside, Anton punched the grounded Zebediah in the face several times before Hardcastle and Kishin could hold him back. “Take it easy, Anton,” Hardcastle suggested. “Just stay calm….” Anton glared at Zebediah, waiting until the uniformed girl and the stout man returned. “Get that useless piece of filth out of here,” he snarled, spitting on Zebediah as he was hauled out. “AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T COME BACK!” Ted, noticing the girls in the pool, pulled the blinds over the glass doors; Vicki noticed the worried expression on her creator’s face mere seconds before it was obscured by the shades.
“Okay,” she drawled, “somebody needs to tell me what the hell just happened here….”
Surprisingly, it was Meredith---still floating lazily on her raft---who answered. “Zebediah wanted to appeal to Anton on behalf of the Coalition,” she stated, “except his Coalition membership was revoked around this time in 1987, and he’s been banned from attending ALPA meetings since the 90s…long in a short, he’s trying to stir the pot.” “Okay, I can sort of understand that,” Vicki admitted, “but what’s all this about a coalition?”
“Not ‘a’ coalition,” Rae corrected, “the Coalition. A group of robotics companies that refused to join the ALPA on the grounds that ‘artificial life forms’ should adhere to subservience first, and sentience second---basically, obedience before free will. ReVerse used to be a member, until that Vega moron took over and petitioned the ALPA to reinstate ReVerse as a fully-fledged supporter.” “There’s still a lot of companies that support the Coalition, though,” Rumiko added. “A lot of them are in countries where the political situations aren’t exactly stable….most of the Middle East, for example, and supposedly in one of the Koreas.”
Vicki’s eyes went wide, remembering Alicia’s words two months earlier: It’s not so much an actual, physical war as it is a chance for….let’s call them “various entities”…to prove their dominance in the world robotics market. Certain groups---like the ALPA---are probably the closest thing to “good guys” that this particular conflict has right now…. some of these entities are trying to shift the balance in their favor, and if they can achieve that…….
“Blunderwitz is---well, was in charge of one such corporation,” Sunny continued, picking up where Rumiko left off. “He’s got a few factories in Afghanistan---illegally owned factories, if the rumors are true. Supposedly, he killed the rightful owners and took over while everyone else was trying not to get shot or blown up.” “And he’s not even the worst one,” Rae sulked, her British accent adding extra gloom to the statement. “That Bernstein idiot---the one who keeps sponsoring those martial arts tournaments---went the extra mile to pretty much corner the market on prime factory real-estate in Siberia, and there’s talk that some of the other megalomaniacs are trying to get a factory built somewhere in Ireland---either the mainland or Northern.”
“Who’s in charge of the Coalition?” Vicki asked, becoming more intrigued by the minute. “They’re allegedly led by a group called the DVS,” Meredith replied, finally getting off the raft and swimming over to join the others. “It’s all just rumors, really, but from what I’ve heard, the DVS used to manufacture sleeper agent fembots for the USSR during the Cold War. Boris Vlatko was a member at one point before they disowned him…something about ‘improper prioritization’…”
“Somehow,” Vicki muttered, “that doesn’t surprise me.”
The glass doors opened as soon as the words left her mouth, revealing a calmer (and slightly bloodied) Anton Malvineous. “Sorry about that,” he apologized. “An uninvited guest decided to show up….we had to, ah, use drastic measures to persuade him to leave.”
“So I heard,” Vicki replied. “Was he an old friend of yours?”
Anton’s nervous grin faded to a scowl; “Zebediah Blunderwitz is no friend of mine,” he muttered, “and no friend of your father’s, either. That man is a criminal, a wastrel and a fool….you’d do well to stay as far away from him as possible, Vicki, unless you have a burning desire to be reprogrammed and spend the rest of your life as a pole dancer in some Taiwanese dive bar.” He glared at Blunderwitz’s car as it sped away, muttering curses under his breath. “He never should have tried to show his face here…”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Vicki reminded him, “so….”
The smile slowly crept back onto Anton’s face. “Indeed he is…and I just realized I’ve got some blood on me.” He sighed; “I should probably head to the bathroom and get cleaned up before Tell and the guests of honor arrive….” “How soon are they getting here?” Rumiko asked.
Anton checked his watch; “Thirty minutes, give or take.”
“Enough time for one more game of Marco Polo, I think,” Vicki mused, grinning slyly.
Vicki and the other gynoids engaged in a spirited game of Marco Polo for the next few minutes, and the brief memory of Anton beating the hell out of Zeb Blunderwitz was quickly forgotten. Vicki managed to win at least twice (without losing any bits of her swimsuit), and by the time Ted called for the gynoids to towel off and get dressed, all of them were chatting amicably.
“How’d the game go?” Anton asked as they entered. “I won twice,” Vicki replied. “AND I didn’t have to leave the pool, unlike some people…”
“I wasn’t leaving the pool to cheat!” Rae protested with a laugh.
Anton chuckled. “Glad to see you were all having fun. Tell’s still ten minutes or so away; feel free to talk to the girls in the den until he gets here. Oh, and ah…” He reached over and plucked a leaf from Vicki’s hair; “You missed this.” “Thanks,” Vicki replied, grinning. “Good thing you spotted that…I would’ve looked pretty stupid trying to listen to this ‘guest of honor’ with a leaf stuck in my hair.”
“Yes, well….” Anton stared past Vicki through the partially opened front door, his smile once again melting into a scowl; “Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me,” he growled.
“What?” Vicki asked, only to watch as Anton whirled past her, grabbing a 9-iron from a golf bag near the door and running towards the gate. “What is it?!” she yelled. “It’s Zeb Blunderwitz,” Rumiko whispered. “I guess he didn’t take the hint last time…” “But why does Anton hate him so much?” Vicki asked quietly. “Long story,” Sunny replied. “Let’s just say there’s a lot of bad blood between them, and it goes back a long way---“
The crunch of metal on metal cut off the remark---Anton was assaulting Zeb’s BMW Z8 with the 9-iron.
“GET OUT!” he roared, brutally attacking the car. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE NOW BEFORE I TAKE THIS NINE-IRON TO THE SIDE OF YOUR HEAD, YOU PATHETIC SON OF A BITCH!” Zeb was cursing at Anton in a foreign language---either Romanian or Latin, I can’t tell which, Vicki mused---and making several rude hand gestures; this tactic backfired when Anton cracked the nine-iron across Zeb’s windshield on the driver’s side, literally leaning into the car and screaming at him to get the hell off of Tell’s property. The sight was terrifying; ever since her first meeting with the Professor, Vicki had always seen him looking either calm or worried; now, for the second time in less than a day, he was screaming like a madman at someone while attacking their car with a golf club.
Vicki felt someone’s arm around her; “Uh, why don’t you go…ah, talk to the other gynoids over there in the den, sweetheart?” Ted asked quietly, steering her away from the door; Anton was reaching for what was either a Tazer or a pistol holstered on his belt. “I’ll, ah, see if I can calm things down outside---“
Before Vicki had even made it to the den, a gunshot split the air.
Despite his attempts to hold her back, Ted couldn’t keep Vicki from running to the door and watching in horror, expecting the worst. To her relief (mixed with a twinge of fear), Anton had only shot at the tires of Zeb’s car, and was still screaming obscenities as the disgraced roboticist drove off, shouting foreign curses as he left.
“AND DON’T COME BACK!” Anton screamed, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.
“Dad,” Vicki whispered nervously, “why does Anton hate Zeb Blunderwitz so much?”
“Well, hon,” Ted replied, “a few years ago, Zeb…tried to get Anton fired from his own company. He falsified a lot of evidence and bribed people, and tried to frame Anton for a multiple server failure that had actually been caused by someone else…the scary thing is, he nearly succeeded. It took the ALPA a full six months to figure out what was going on…but by then, Anton had lost a lot of contracts and job opportunities, and it was a while before he really recovered from that loss.” He sighed sadly; “It didn’t help that Zeb got drunk one night and ran someone over….and that someone was Anton’s girlfriend; she’s been a paraplegic ever since.”
Vicki stared, horrified.
“To this day, I think there’s nothing that sets him off worse the mention of Zebediah Blunderwitz,” Ted informed her. “I mean, he could be happy, smiling and joking around one minute, but as soon as someone says ‘Zeb Blunderwitz’---bam. I mean, forget it! It’s like he’s a different person!”
“I’ll…remember to never mention that name around him, then,” Vicki stammered.
“Good idea,” Anton replied, slamming the door behind him. “That little turd was taking pictures this time,” he told Ted, scowling. “Pictures, Ted! I think he may have even been trying to get snapshots of the girls in the pool a few minutes ago!” “Please tell me you didn’t let him get away with the camera,” Ted pleaded; Anton’s scowl changed to a smirk as he held up the smashed remnants of a plastic-cardboard disposable. “What camera?” he asked, chuckling.
“Why’d you shoot at his car, though?” Vicki asked, confused.
“The rounds were blanks,” Anton replied, “and no, I’m not going to test-fire one against my head just to prove it…enough idiots have died that way as it is.” He shook his head. “After what that bastard put me through,” he explained, “just thinking about him is usually enough to set me off…..I just want to wash my hands of his stench and move on with my life, but it just never goes away…”
“If it helps,” Kishin offered, “I think Tell has finally driven up. Perhaps we should---”
“I heard shooting earlier!” Claudia called out, running up to the group. “Who was shooting….” “You can relax, Claudia,” Anton informed her. “Zeb was just stopping by to get on my nerves, so I fired blanks at him and attacked his car with a golf club.” Claudia rolled her eyes; “You have got to stop letting that man get to you, Anton….otherwise he’ll drag your butt to court and sue you for everything you’ve got.”
“’That man’ nearly killed my career!” Anton shouted. “He’s been blacklisted from every ALPA function, yet he STILL tries to stick his nose in our business! And if he even THINKS about suing me---”
“Whoa,” Vicki murmured, staring at the individuals getting out of Tell’s car.
“What are you…” Anton began, only to realize what had just rendered Vicki speechless.
Tell wasn’t exactly “dressed to impress”: the Grateful Dead sweatshirt, faded jeans and Converse Chuck Taylors hardly looked appropriate for an ALPA function. Alicia, who’d been riding shotgun in the Tellmobile, had gone for a much more professional look---dress pants, a blouse that wasn’t tight enough to give her the impression of having the most common superpower, a double-breasted blazer and black high-heels.
Of course, she had nothing on the passengers in the backseat…..
The first man who emerged, surprisingly, was the same individual whom Vicki had encountered after her fall from the transceiver dish at the Ames Research Center. Same platinum blond hair, same immaculate skin, same mirrored white shades…even his clothes were impossibly white, as if he’d used a gallon of industrial-strength bleach (or some sort of nuclear washing machine) to get the stains out.
And then, there was his bodyguard.
Tall, athletic, clad from head to foot in grey---that would’ve been the easy way to describe him. Vicki, on the other hand, processed the details one-at-a-time: grey leather shoes, custom made. Custom-tailored silk pants, also in grey. Vest, dress shirt, tie and dinner jacket---again, all in grey. Leather gloves---ditto.
But it was the mask that caught her attention.
It was almost like a luchadore’s mask, but with no embellishments of any kind---just a simple, grey mask that slid over the man’s head and allowed just enough hair to hang out at the back for people to see a two-inch long fringe of silver-white between the grey jacket and the grey mask. There were no holes for the eyes, mouth, ears or nose---every single inch of the man’s face was covered, but it did nothing to curb the somewhat weird feeling Vicki was getting….
Somehow, this man knew her.
“Vicki,” the man in white called, approaching her with a smile. “Glad to finally see you in an environment other than a hospital.” He shook hands with her, noticing her nervous smile. “Something wrong?”
----------------------------------------
Stay tuned for Part 2 this Friday.
“Your, ah, bodyguard….he’s---“
“Nothing you should be afraid of,” the man assured her. “He only fights back in self-defense.”
“Or if I’m provoked,” the man in grey added, his voice just a few decibels above a whisper.
“Indeed. Anyway….for the duration of this meeting, feel free to address me as…hurm, Mr. Royale is getting to be a bit overdone, and ‘Mr. White’ is just clichéd….tell you what,” he stated, “feel free to use the codename I started out with back in the 80s.”
“Which is?” Vicki prompted.
The man in white grinned. “Call me….Oberon.” With that, he and his bodyguard entered Tell’s abode.
“That’s Oberon?!” Vicki whispered, astonished. “The one and only,” Alicia replied. “The same Oberon who got the idea to bring the world’s best and brightest together during the 80s for reasons that people are still arguing about today…” Her words were drowned out by a helicopter descending to land elsewhere in the yard. “And there’s Diz,” she shouted, “making a theatrical entrance as usual…” “Coba’s here?!” Ted yelled, surprised by the revelation. “He hasn’t missed a meeting in years,” Alicia yelled back. “What’d you expect?!” She paused, watching Dale Coba disembark from the chopper; “AND he’s brought the Hreftech representative!”
“We should get back inside,” Anton suggested, “otherwise we’ll miss the preliminary briefing…”
“Believe it or not, I’ve been waiting all morning for someone to say that,” Vicki admitted.
