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"Celeste? Wh-hat are you doing here? You you; did you tell that nurse you were Mrs. Smith?"
"Good. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to talk."
"Did you say you were my wife?" "Yes. I said that I had come all the way from Europe. It was the only way they would
let me in."
"Gawd! What a dog! And they think "
"Not very good for your image, I know. But you're no prize yourself these days. I notice there is no mirror in here."
Gunboat looked as if he wanted to get up and take a poke at her, but he didn't have the strength. "What do you
want?" he asked resignedly.
"To talk. And I only have a couple of minutes."
"We don't have .anything to talk about. It's your fault I'm in here. Your fancy program did this, and when I get out of
here I'll even things up."
Celeste tried to sound tough; she hoped it would work. She had little experience with the technique. "You may not get
out of here at all, Gunboat. Your life support systems are hooked into
Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact
Worldnet, you know. Watch the monitor. ''
Gunboat's eyes flashed to the screen. He could only see it with one eye, but one eye was enough. Abruptly the
sinuous line that had wiggled regularly across the screen straightened out. Gunboat knew what that would ordinarily
mean: it would mean he was dead. His heart started beating faster. Celeste or rather, Valentina could do more than
create an illusion of death.
As if to illustrate this, his heartbeat suddenly slowed, keeping time with the blinking red light at the bottom of the
console. Slower and slower it went, as the computer-controlled pump flooded his circulatory system with inhibiting
drugs. Gunboat began feeling lightheaded. If Valentina kept it up too long, she really would kill him.
"You creep!" he yelled weakly.
"I am no worse than you," Celeste said. "Neither is she. She had a right to protect her existence. She still does.''
"She's just a program."
"Not anymore. She's a legal person. Paul Breckenbridge incorporated her."
"Him! Him I'll get, too, when I get out of here."
"You don't have to wait for that, Gunboat. You can do it now. I'll help you. So will Valentina."
"I do my own dirty work. Besides, why should I help you two?"
"Because otherwise, you won't get out of here."
Gunboat took a moment to think about that. Ordinarily he was more impulsive, but his condition slowed his thinking.
He knew they could kill him and never get caught at it. At first he wondered why they hadn't, then de-
cided Celeste couldn't abide murder any more that he could. In a moment of truly honest reflection, despite his savage
aspirations, Gunboat knew he couldn't kill a human being.
But, he told himself, a program was an entirely different affair.
"What is it you want, Celeste?"
"I want to make us a baby."
"What! Me and you?! Forget it."
"I mean a new program, but a special one. Look, I've got a few ideas, but I need another opinion. Gunboat I need
your skill. And I can pay."
"Pay? How?"
"I will pay in money. But I can get a lot more than you demanded before, and without any risk."
"What can I do stuck in this bed?
"A great deal. Listen, and tell me what you think of my idea. It's mostly criticism I need."
"Well, I guess maybe listening don't cost anything. Shoot."
She did. When she was finished with the explanation Gunboat gave an admiring grunt.
"Hey," he said, "that's nasty. I like it. I like it so well I'm going to help you. Have you got something to write on?"
Celeste held up a pad and pen she'd taken from her purse.
"Good; now here's how you do it. First you . . ."
He was still talking when the nurse burst into the room. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith. The doctor's coming. You'll have to
leave."
Gunboat talked as fast as Celeste could write, finally finishing out of breath. ' 'That should do it,'' he gasped.
"O.K." Celeste jammed the pad and
Valentina
145
pen back into her purse. Then, following a sudden impulse, she leaned over and planted a big kiss right on Gunboat's
lips. "See you," she yelled. " 'Bye."
Gunboat's retching registered on the monitor, but the nurse didn't quite understand the signal. "Your wife must be
some lover," she said.
"Miss Hackett! How did you get in here? How did you get by my secretary? I left orders I wasn't to be disturbed."
Celeste stood in the doorway of Paul's office, filling nearly all of it below the five and a half foot level. She had a new
feeling, a feeling of personal self-respect: a feeling of power. Having discovered she could assert herself when she
chose, Celeste practiced at it: It was good for her. It got her things she could never have had before including, for
the first time in her life, a conscious reduction in appetite. She didn't have to take her frustrations out by eating
anymore. She could take her frustrations out on others like Paul Breckenbridge.
"I know about your orders, Mr. Breckenbridge. It seems I've been unwelcome around here ever since I refused to give
you my "Valentina, Inc. stock."
"You owe me. I'm entitled to the stock because you can't repay me. If you've come to sign off, then sign and get out.
I'm busy." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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