SaraCon
Copyright 1999, 2000 by
Ed Howdershelt
http://abintrapress.tripod.com/
The Science Fiction convention was finally underway, almost on schedule and only rattling a little in the weak spots as anticipated.
Attendee-registration people seemed to have their act together this year and someone had actually remembered to brief the rent-a-cops about what certain badges and signs meant. Maybe there wouldn't be any irate guest authors calling in their complaints from their hotel rooms or pay phones after being refused entrance this year.
I signed in early so I could grab a second wake-up coffee in the con suite, then took it downstairs to the main entrance to wait for the airport limovan to arrive with my 'visiting-dignitary' assignments for the weekend. Their booth-tables in the dealer's room were ready.
All I'd had to do to pull some volunteers from the herd was to selectively hand out photos and promise autographs. Bunnies in their forties and fifties are still damn-good-looking women and the volunteers who helped set up the booth would be able to choose their own photos from the ones they were hanging and handling.
A couple of passing women wondered aloud what the hell the Bunnies were doing in a dealer's booth at a sci-fi convention. I told them the Bunnies had various SF/F film credits. One looked skeptical, so I told her to come back later and check out the photos if she was curious enough and went back to assembling the booth.
Standing by the curb, I passed the word that the Bunnies would be arriving soon to a few guys nearby and watched the news spread around the hotel entrance that fills the entire corner of a city block. Soon there was standing room only in my vicinity.
I waved at the rentacop by the big glass doors and signalled for four of his people to join me. He waved back and radioed the message on. When the hotel limovan arrived, three gorgeous older women made a deliberately leggy exit and stood smiling on the sidewalk as their bags were unloaded. They were trim and tight and packaged accordingly in midi-skirts, snug-fitting blouses, and high heels. Conservative glamour. The guards and I helped the ladies squeeze through the crowd of almost-drooling men and up the escalator to their tables.
Two of the ladies had been at last year's convention. One handed me an autographed 8x10 photo of her standing next to a white tiger in Las Vegas and said, "You told me last year you like cats, right? I had Phil set one of these aside for you after last month's shoot."
"Thanks!" I said, "You know, there's just nothing more natural in this world than a woman in a string bikini and six-inch high heels with a tiger. Was there really a swimming pool nearby?"
She laughed and said, "Nope. No pool. That was the hotel's restaurant patio."
I asked her to hold on to the photo while we wrestled the smaller bags and some equipment into the hotel. After installing the Bunnies in their room I used my own radio to have con-workers take the Bunnies' display stuff up to their booth, then sat back to enjoy the view as they got ready and I sat on the couch sipping my coffee. Some Bunnies seemed to improve with age. Not quite as skinny and not as fluffy-looking and just the way I like 'em.
"Zip me up, please?" It was the brunette Bunny. She had on a pair of 60's-style hot pants.
She hoisted her leg to place her booted foot on the coffee table in front of me and stood watching my eyes traverse her legs. I heard her laugh as I zipped up her half-calf boots.
She said, "Sorry. Just rehearsing. I'm going to be doing this in a movie soon."
"I hope that's not your only line. Great legs, by the way."
"That's what they tell me. No, I have a few other lines, too, but I'm afraid they're about the same. That's the downside to this kind of fame. You have to fight to be taken seriously."
"Uhm. Well, of course I could have a word with the producer about your role."
She laughed and said it might be better just to finish the contract and crack the whip on her agent to look for better opportunities with better production outfits.
After an hour of coffee, breakfast snacking, and chatting, it was time to take them downstairs to the booth. I surrounded the ladies with a few con security people and off we went, negotiating our way through the already massive number of con-attendees milling around or waiting for the dealer's room to open. We'd have used the service elevator, but it wasn't working. I'd radioed and been told by the 2nd security group leader, Granger, that hotel management was supposed to have had someone down to fix it before ten.
I said, "It is ten, Granger. Hold one."
There was a group of six 'Klingons' passing in the hall. I grabbed the arm of one and asked who could reasonably be considered in charge of the group. The guy looked at me blankly for a moment.
"In charge?"
"I need a guard unit," I said. "Gotta get these ladies to the dealer's room. You guys up for it?"
The brunette Bunny appeared beside me in the doorway. The six guys gaped at her for a moment, then snapped to attention. One of them, the apparent leader, saluted.
"By your command!" he said forcefully. Klingons always say things forcefully.
"Granger," I radioed, "I have it covered with a Klingon guard unit. Be at the booth in a few."
"A what? Are you using unauthorized people?"
"I'm authorizing them and the Bunnies agree they'll do fine," I turned and asked, "Right, Ladies?" They voiced their agreements at the arrangement. "How's that?" I asked Granger.
"I can't authorize this, Ed."
"That's okay, Granger. Find Burton and backdate the okay on it. See you there."
The Bunnies emerged and the cadre formed a perimeter around them, then we set off down the crowded hallway.
The Klingon leader roared, "Make way, make way! Amazon diplomats coming through!"
A few more such shoutings had us to the lobby and maybe two more got us to the doors of the dealer's room, where we thanked the Klingons for their service and the ladies told them to drop by for free photos later.
Heads turned as the ladies paraded up the steps to the second level and between the various booths along the aisle to their own booth. I arranged coffee and snack deliveries and reported our safe arrival to Con HQ. Granger was a bit tense, but Burton had seen us parting our way through the sea of attendees and was wondering if they didn't need a Klingon escort service.
Across the aisle from us, somewhat catticornered, was the Aurora Universe Writer's Group's table, rented cooperatively by a bunch of guys who wrote superwoman fantasy stories and published themselves on the internet. All of them had been checked in through registration and been issued their Guest Author passes, but two of the writers were missing from the table.
One of the missing, John, was using the con suite phone to try to chase down a missing piece of luggage. It had disappeared somewhere between Singapore and Atlanta, Georgia, and it naturally seemed to be the most important piece of luggage he'd brought with him.
The other writer not at the AUWG table was me. Yup. Me. If not for Bunny-duty, to which I had been assigned every year because they asked for me (probably something along the lines of "Hey, can we get that guy from last year who..?"), I'd have bee-lined to the table to meet and greet with the others, but I still had a couple of hours to go before I could disentangle myself from Bunny-guarding duty.
Bunny-guarding may sound like a joke, but it isn't. A worshipper of one Bunny in particular had almost made a nasty scene the first year they'd appeared at the convention, stalking her and trying to get into her room. He hadn't seemed altogether sane and had gone rather ballistic when we cornered him in her bathroom, but the Bunny seemed to know how to handle him.
The lady had taken the incident better than our security guys. It wasn't the first time her chosen path to fame had produced a deranged devotee. With us surrounding him, she talked to him for a while, gave him some pictures, and allowed him to hold and kiss her hand before telling him she really did have to go in order to get on with the show. He apologized maybe a hundred times, swore undying loyalty to her, and almost floated out of her room.
She later told me that he likely would have come back anyway, whether arrested or not, and if he could possibly be satisfied with having made contact with her, he'd probably never be a problem again. She seemed right about that. The guy had settled down and was bragging to anyone who'd listen that he'd kissed that Bunny and would die for her if need be. He was still a little unbalanced, but he seemed to have been defused as a potential danger.
John finally arrived with three blondes in skimpy 'superwoman' costumes in tow. They'd joined the AUWG guys to help them promote the AUWG agenda and their own bids for minor fame at the convention. Two were wearing what amounted to a few strategically-placed straps and a cape. One had tall red boots and one was wearing six-inch spiked heels.
The other girl wore a one-piece black swimsuit with a black and yellow "S" on the front and a pair of those demi-boots with the folded tops. I knew this had to be Toomey's character, Sara. All seemed happy to be on display as they glad-handed visitors and handed out flyers.
As I was watching the girls, I became aware that someone was watching me in turn. Watching me unusually intensely. The hair on my neck rose and goosebumps formed on my arms as the awareness blared within me. It was a strong feeling of wariness, like when you're on point and suddenly know you're walking through an ambush setup and someone very probably has you in their crosshairs.
I leaned far forward in my chair to reach as if for one of the picture boxes so I could follow my instinct to get down as fast as possible. Doing something defensive seemed to mute the alarm bells slightly. I glanced around in the general direction of the presence I sensed.
At first I saw only the milling horde of con attendees trying to maneuver around each other to get to various table displays, but then, through occasional breaks in the crowd, I saw a young blond woman in jeans and a t-shirt staring directly at me from about forty feet away.
She was standing alone, and might only have been looking in my direction the first time I saw her, but two more such breaks allowed me to see that she seemed to be staring at me as if the people between us weren't there at all.
I slipped out of my chair and under a table to get out of the booth without disrupting the activities, then went around behind the curtained walls to have another look at the blonde.
When I stood and looked for her, she wasn't there. I scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of her, so after a few moments I slithered back under the table and into my chair. If I saw her again, I'd try to at least get close enough to read her con badge and say hello. I like knowing who's spooking me, and if possible, how. And why.
When Jackie showed up to relieve me for a few hours, I walked over to the AUWG table and introduced myself, apologizing for having to work during the convention.
"Hi, I'm Kiyoshi," said one of them.
"Thought you might be," I said. "What were you doing to that girl's costume just now?"
"The costume was made for a smaller, um, size. She kept slipping out, so we fixed it."
"With staples?"
"We were very careful." He grinned.
One of the guys pointed at the Bunny booth and said, "I take it you're a volunteer over there? You have my sympathy for having to work during the convention."
He delivered the statement in a droll tone that left no doubt as to just how little sympathy that might actually be. I read his badge and said, "Yup. Hi, Toomey. How's business?"
"Booming. I still can't believe that people really want our autographs. A lot of them have been to our sites and read our stuff. We'll probably more than break even on booth expenses."
He had an odd grin that appeared and disappeared during the rest of our conversation, as if there was something he was dying to ask or tell me, but he couldn't mention whatever it was.
"It's amazing," said John, "I thought we'd be explaining to everyone who we are and why we're here, but even those who don't know us understand what we're about."
All I said was, "Gee. You look a little different from the pictures on your site, John."
That got me a wry grin. "They were old pictures," he said.
Mac said, "I saw you over there, Ed. You looked familiar, but it took me a minute to figure out why. Then I realized all the cats were missing."
While we were talking, I felt, then spotted, the blonde girl again. She was standing by the elevator alcove. I pointed at her and said, "Gotta go, Mac. I need to talk to her."
I think he said, "Yeah, well, good luck, then," as I pushed away through the crowd.
When got there, of course, she was gone. I felt around and soon spotted her again. She was on the next floor up, leaning over the rail and grinning at me. She gave me a little wave. I ducked into the alcove and hit the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
I tried to be quiet as well as quick, and when I peeked out of the alcove on the next floor, I momentarily thought I'd succeeded. The blonde was facing away and looking at the people below, but as I approached, she said, "Very good. Very quiet and very quick. I didn't think you'd take the stairs until I heard you coming. Hello, Ed."
"If you heard me coming over all this racket you have good ears, ma'am."
She turned and extended her hand. I took it, and almost immediately her voice said, "To quote your own words: 'I can hear a mouse fart at a hundred yards.' I could feel you looking for me, Ed, but this works a lot better when there's contact. I'm Sara. Pleased to meet you. I've read your stories and I've read a lot about you in various places."
Her lips hadn't moved. I thought back, "A pleasure to meet you, too, Sara. Partly because you startled the hell out of me a while ago and I never thought you were real."
I was mildly surprised when she responded, validating my assumption about our method of communication.
"Does talking like this make you nervous, Ed?" She smiled slightly.
I laughed. "Hell, yes, it makes me nervous, but I think it was probably too late to worry about it when we touched. Maybe when I first saw you."
She laughed, too. "When we touched it was. But I don't read minds without consent or excellent reasons. Do you know who I am?"
"That question had to be a mere formality, Sara," I said. "Of course I do and you already know I do. I'm just having a little trouble believing it at the moment, but I'll get over it. I thought you were just Toomey's take on our group's superwoman theme."
"There's some question about that," she said, "I'm a construct. Doesn't it seem strange that my makers would fashion me this way, then send me to Earth? In particular, to send me to someone who reads, then writes, about superwomen?"
"No, not really. Who'd be better? For me, 'strange' started with aliens wanting to make contact with Earth at all. Why? Do they study the primitives of the universe? After that, it would have been equally strange if they'd sent anything or anyone of their own here instead of you. For the record, I like who they sent just fine."
Sara gave me a piercing gaze. "Did you mean to say 'who' they sent? Not 'what' they sent? Does that mean you consider me human? Or at least enough so?"
"Stop fencing. You're sentient, whatthehellever else you may be. You're a beautiful woman, too, unless that's just a thin candy shell you're wearing, there. Sentience and beauty make a real nice combination. Seems to me they've sent us someone we can teach and learn from at the same time, and I'm damned glad to meet you, lady."
Her gaze was steady as she asked, "You aren't even a little afraid of me?"
"No point. I'd stand a better chance of stopping a hurricane with a slingshot if you were bent on doing us in, and if you were, you wouldn't have much reason to bother being friendly or to meet with me. You'd just trash the place and be done with it."
One of the 3rd-floor guards had noticed us standing alone on the jewelry floor and was heading our direction. As he approached, I said aloud, "There isn't any part of the convention above the second floor, ma'am. We'll have to go back downstairs."
I nodded at the guard and took Sara's elbow as if guiding her back to the elevator. She giggled softly and played along, realizing that I was holding her elbow mostly to avoid breaking our contact. When the doors opened at the second floor, a huge crowd of people was waiting. We stayed to one side in the front of the car to continue the ride to the first floor.
"When I saw you sitting at the Bunny table," she said, "I recognized you from the pictures on your website, but I recognized you from some other pictures, too. Old ones from Germany and Kenya. I read your stories, Ed, and your attitudes about the Cold War and Vietnam eras made me curious about those times and events. I decided to see just how comprehensive my database really is, so I called up every instance I could find that involved you since the day you were born. I thought I'd done pretty well, but there are some big pieces missing."
"Probably just as well. Pieces of what?"
"Well, I don't know, other than some time. Apparently you ceased to exist for a while. I can't find a thing on file anywhere for those three years."
"You probably won't find much. We were ordered to thoroughly destroy the Nairobi field office and the records of hunting poachers and get the hell out of there. It had to do with the wildlife protection program. When our guys lost the election, we had to wipe the operation clean. We didn't bother telling the poachers at the time."
"Duly noted. I was just curious, anyway."
"Curious enough to make a project of it and involve Toomey?" I asked, "He looked like a cat caught with feathers between his teeth earlier."
She laughed. "Yes, that curious. He's waiting for a full report about our meeting."
"I'm sure he'll be entertained. Have you met the other guys yet?"
"Not yet. Where do you want to have lunch?"
"Let's see what's available. Is there any chance I can monopolize you for the rest of the convention? Maybe longer? Marry you, maybe? It'll get you a green card, y'know..."
Sara laughed and said, "No, I don't think so, but thanks for asking."
She handled it as a joke, of course, but we both knew I'd been more than half-serious. I didn't care what she really was. 'Look and feel' wasn't an issue for me because whoever had designed her had done a first-rate job in those departments.
I don't remember what we had for lunch. Sara was so distracting I could have unknowingly eaten the napkin. A number of nearby diners probably thought it was odd that we didn't speak to each other during the entire meal, but there was no need.
Having touched and firmly made the other connection, certain adjustments appeared to have been made within us that eliminated the need for further contact. I suspected that she'd made the actual adjustment within herself once she'd acquired a fix on my 'frequency'. Most of what I'd read about her suggested that she could easily have done so, and it's for damn sure that I probably couldn't have in so short a time.
Sara wanted to know how I'd feel about letting her rummage through my memories. I asked her which ones and why, and she looked up from her plate to gaze into my eyes.
"All of them, if you don't mind. If you'd prefer, you can guide me past whichever of them you'd rather I didn't see. I'm trying to learn all I can about everything, Ed, but just reading about something or seeing pictures isn't always enough to form a complete mental image of things. This is just one more way to gather information, but it also supplies some perspective."
I thought about it. Sara could tap all sorts of public and other records that had in any way been electronically recorded. She could probably fake being a computer or a fax machine well enough to fool the sending devices, too, so even paper records were reasonably available to her by placing a request and waiting for some clerk to send it to her. But as she'd said, that would provide her only the written or photographic evidences without interpretations or background.
"I guess it would provide some perspective, at that. Or at least my side of whatever you may find out or may already have found out that could be making you ask me for access. No recriminations later and no hard feelings if you don't like some of what you see in there, right, Sara? Done is done, and all that?"
Sara's eyes never left mine. "I can't meet those conditions without seeing the results, Ed."
I shrugged. "Well, if you find intolerable things in there, I didn't know you yesterday and I'm happy to have met you. Go ahead, Sara. Do it."
She reached to touch my hand and said, "I wouldn't worry too much, Ed. Done."
"Done? Just like that, done?" I realized I was so surprised I was actually speaking. "You sure you got it all, lady?"
She grinned and nodded. "Got it all, Ed. I'll sift through it in the next few minutes. Recording you actually took about four times as long as most people who've let me in."
"Damn. I'm flattered, I think. Oh, well. Been places, done stuff. Humor me, Sara. How long do you think it would take to pull all the data from, say, the NSA computers?"
Sara actually laughed. "Fifty-eight hours, forty-four minutes, eighteen-point-two-one-one seconds, Ed. There was only about 1/100,000th as much data to download, but the hardware is very slow compared to a brain and the filing structure leaves most of the data unlinked. Most of it was simply piled here and there under various arcane titlings for retrieval without any indexing. Nothing in the brain is unindexed."
I sipped my beer and said, "Damned glad to hear that. Any broken chains or lost clusters? Memory location errors?"
She grinned. "Everybody seems to have memory errors, even the NSA. With people the errors usually appear to be selective in nature. People tend to bury some things pretty deep subconsciously while the NSA file system simply misplaces some things."
"Glad to hear that, too, if any of the misplaced things are about me."
Sara seemed rather introspective for a moment. "I see what you mean," she said. "More of them will be when I can reconnect, how's that for service?"
I didn't know what, precisely, she was referring to, but I nodded. "Thanks, miLady."
She nodded silently and gazed at me for another few moments, but I could tell she wasn't really seeing me across the table from her. I was curious, very much so, but I didn't want to break her reveries, so I waited.
Sara reached to touch my hand again and asked if I'd known that she could alter her outward appearance and any other physical aspect of herself. I admitted not knowing that. She asked me if there was anyone from my personal history who I'd like to see and talk with again.
"No," I said. "I know who you mean, but she wouldn't be real, Sara."
"You're sure, Ed?"
"I'm sure. The answer's no. The woman in front of me is perfect just the way she is."
She nodded again and released my hand to sit straight up in her chair.
"I have to visit the others in the AUWG, too," she said aloud.
I almost glanced around to see if anyone had noticed her speak. They hadn't, of course. It was far more natural for them than what we'd been doing.
Sara cleared her throat - I figured that to be a simulation of some sort, since I couldn't imagine why she'd actually need to do that - and smiled at me.
"I could drop by now and then if you'd like," she said.
"Don't even think you need a reason," I said. "Just do it."
"I'll call ahead first, though, just in case, okay?"
I grinned. "Can you do it without using a phone, now?"
Sara grinned back. "Sure can."
"In that case, just link up now and then to chat, too. After all, you already know how I feel about you, Sara." I set my beer bottle down and stood up. "Ready when you are."
We left the restaurant together but split up near the escalators. I went up first so I could watch from the Bunny booth how Mac, John, and Kiyoshi handled their own "first contacts" with Sara.
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