Howard
November 2342
Vulcan
Bridget and I had received an invitation from Mark Harris to attend the latest huey test. He would never invite us for sothing routine, so I had a good feeling.
We followed the usual process and soon found ourselves in the lab at the Hawking Institute. Terry was there as well, still acting as a guinea pig. She looked considerably more relaxed than the last ti I’d seen her.
“Hi, Terry,” I said. “How are things? I hope they fixed that exit glitch.”
She raised her arms as the techs fussed around her, attaching sensors and routing wires. “That was a while back, Mr. Johannson. We’ve had several subsequent and much more interesting glitches since then. Would you like a list?”
“Terry … ” Mark said in a warning tone.
I looked at him in surprise, as much because it felt like he was trying to suppress information as anything. That would not sit well with .
He glanced at . “You’re welco to review our logs, or I can give you a rundown, Howard. But Terry tends to get worked up. We don’t have ti for the ranting.”
Terry chuckled and said, “Can’t argue with that.” She began to lie down on the gurney, assisted by the techs, just like last ti.
“The gear still seems bulky,” I said.
“Just test sensors,” Mark replied. “We’re not using the production model wearable, and it’s hard to tell from here where the test harness begins and the debugging stuff ends. Take my word for it, the production remote is a marketable size.”
I nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Mark glanced to the techs, one of whom said into the air, “Activate.”
Terry closed her eyes, and the huey woke up. I noted that this version was considerably more human-looking. It even seed like it resembled Terry, at least a little. I wondered whether it was Terry or the techs who had designed the unit, because there seed to be a little bit of wish fulfillnt going on. Slightly taller and definitely more athletic, it was Terry-plus-plus.
The huey climbed out of the manny pod and looked around. “Vision’s good. No intermittent freezing.” She looked at . “One of the glitches had my vision stream locking up like a bad video connection.” She walked back and forth a few tis. “Balance is good. How about lunch?”
“What?” I said, thrown by the non sequitur. Even Mark looked surprised.
“It’d be a good test. Take to lunch. You’re buying.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not going to abruptly blow chunks or sothing, are you?”
The huey, which I was already starting to think of as Terry, laughed. “No, consumption has been one of the more dependable parts of testing. Otherwise, I think I’d have quit.” She patted her stomach. “One of the biggest selling features of these things will be the ability to pig out without gaining weight.”
The four of us headed for the caf, Terry talking nonstop. “Balance issues. Latency issues when we tried more than three hops on the network. Ti-outs. Video lock-ups. The exit failure—you were here for that. It’s been fun tis. I’d started waking up in the middle of the night, thinking I was trapped in a huey. But … ” She looked at Mark.
I noticed that Mark’s arm was completely regrown. Still a bit pink, but fully fleshed out, with proper muscular developnt. And a tattoo, already.
“But we’ve made it all the way through the testing gauntlet. Every scenario dread up by the approval committee has been successfully t. We’re going to have a couple of alpha testers running hueys full-ti at work, which should catch anything else.”
“What about letting soone have one at ho?” Bridget asked.
“Maybe for the beta stage,” Mark said with a concerned expression. “With all the Luddie sentint these days, I don’t think anyone wants to abruptly glitch or have a limb fall off in public. Let’s take it slow.”
“Unlike what we’ve been doing up until now.” I smiled as I made the comnt, as otherwise, I was sure I’d just sound testy.
We executed the sa trajectory as last ti through the cafeteria lineup. Bridget and I both had burgers, and Mark had mac and cheese again. Terry loaded up on desserts, including a hot fudge sundae. Bridget smiled, seeing this. “Been there,” she comnted. Terry laughed and licked her lips ostentatiously.
The lunch went without incident, the only noteworthy item being that Mark was now using hot sauce on his mac and cheese. I shuddered involuntarily. The man obviously had issues.
Terry tucked into her dessert with gusto and even went back for a second sundae. Bridget glanced at , shrugged, and joined her.
As we ate, a TV mounted high on a wall switched to a newscast, showing protesters clashing with police sowhere on Vulcan. The sound was off, but the placards and signs could be made out. No more replicants; Dead is Gone; You can’t take it with you; and Replicants are not people were the ones I saw. “Chrissake,” I muttered.
“Luddie rally,” Mark observed. “Gone to violence as usual. They do their best to cause a fight, then claim victimhood. Assholes.”
“Yes, but their numbers are increasing,” Bridget replied. “All the more reason to get this project finished.”
“Do you really think it’ll resolve the issue?” Terry asked. “I tend to think it’ll just infla the Luddies more.”
“Actual Luddite types, yes. But I think with most people, it’s more a case of resentnt driven by envy. Give them what we’ve got, and they will be motivated to defend the new status quo.”
Terry smiled. “Sure, okay. I think you’re being optimistic, but I hope you’re right.”
I watched the video of two protesters beating a cop with their signs. I hoped so, too.
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