5
“It was a setup, Zach. Roundtree obviously convinced the restaurant owner to press charges against you in order to put you on the spot. That way you either agree to do the show or they frame you for starting the shootout. The stunt with Gibbon was probably orchestrated from the start. They’re trying to box you into announcing live that you’re doing the show. Once you announce that the show exists, they’ll spin the story every which way they can and before you know it, you’re fighting I Married the President for the eighteen to forty-nine audience on Thursday nights. Thank Gates I came back online when I did, you big lovable lug.”
As if in a dream, I calmly turned my attention back to the com where Tony, eyes agog and mouth agape, watched us from the view screen.
In quick succession and with the fewest words possible I brought the three remaining calls up on the com and signed off.
“I’ll call you back.” (Tony)
“I’ll call you back.” (Electra)
“I’ll take the job.” (Sexy)
“Good plan,” HARV purred. “We’ll work out a deal with the restaurant owner. We’ll pay for the damages and he’ll drop the complaint. It will cost a lot, but with Sexy Sprockets as a client, we should have plenty of wealth to cover it. I guess I should net with her people and set up a sit-down for the details on the job.”
“HARV?”
“Yes, Zach.”
“You’re a woman.”
“Nice of you to notice, big guy,” she said with a wink. “And by the way, please call me HARA. It’s a little more sassy.”
I have had nightmares in my lifetime. You don’t live this long doing the kind of work that I do without amassing a good batch of mental images that haunt your mind. But HARV as a woman blew all of my preexisting nightmares right off the map.
And when I say “woman,” what I mean is “bombshell,” because that’s the image that HARV, I’m sorry, HARA, had chosen to project.
I’ll start with the curves, because there were a lot of them. More than should be on any normal female body, but all of them finely sculpted. The shapely legs were long as well and clearly visible thanks to the knit skirt that slid gracefully up the thighs when they moved. Thin-waisted, delicate-shouldered, lean, strong arms, the body had it all. I should mention the breasts, I know, but I’ll need a few more years of therapy before I’m fully ready to put that type of detail into words. Use your imagination. Just think “perfect” (and then think harder).
The face was exquisite with a peaches-and-cream complexion and lips like ripe fruit, full and red. The eyes were big and brown but still retained the know-it-all kind of glow that I’m sure HARV couldn’t have erased if he’d tried. The face shape was a bit of a composite of Bacall and Stanwyck. Sexy and powerful and I had to give HARV credit for going the tough broad rather than straight cheesecake route for role models. Oh, and there was red hair. Cascades of it. Thick and silky and seemingly gently lifted by a perpetual breeze. We’re talking Rita Hayworth/Gilda movie poster here.
Like I said, bombshell. Nuclear bombshell.
And yet it was HARV.
“What? I mean, who? How?” I stammered.
“I think what you really mean,” HARV answered, “is why.”
I nodded my head. “Why would be a good place to start.”
HARV smiled, turned smartly on a stiletto heel and sashayed back down the hallway.
“Then let’s start in the office,” he said. “I think you’re going to need to sit down.”
“Among other things,” I said as I followed.
We went into my home office and I plopped myself into the office chair. I was feeling worn out even though I’d been awake for only ten minutes. HARV took position at the corner of my desk and then hopped up onto the wooden frame, one leg crossed over the other at the knee and skirt riding mid-thigh. I rolled my chair back a couple of meters and tried hard not to stare at the holographic flesh.
“I’m sensing that you’re uncomfortable,” HARV said.
“I think the term freaking out is more accurate,” I replied.
“Look, Zach, it’s quite simple really …”
“Hold it,” I said, silencing her with a raised hand. “Let’s get Randy on the vid. He should hear this firsthand. Odds are I’m not going to be able to accurately describe it.”
“You’re the boss,” HARV said with a smile and hopped off the desk.
A nano later, Randy’s carrot-top head appeared on the wall monitor over my desk. He was diligently at work on what looked like a hoverboard, which covered most of his workbench. He didn’t really look up as he answered but I’ve come to expect that.
Randy is another old friend of mine who I’ve come to rely upon quite heavily in my business. He’s a gadget guy, the best inventor/designer on the planet. When I first decided to become a PI many years ago, I spent a lot of time hanging around Randy’s lab looking for new tech that would give me an edge over my PI competition (not to mention law enforcement—but you didn’t hear me say that). Back then, Randy would let me borrow a new toy every once in a while. It worked out great but I began to feel as if I was taking advantage of our friendship. I confessed that to him one day over lunch and he laughed so hard that he fell off his chair (which he does anyway once or twice a day, but out of sheer clumsiness rather than glee). It turns out that he was feeling guilty about using me as a beta-tester (guinea pig) and didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. Some may say that our relationship is mutually beneficial. Some may say it’s parasitical. The important thing though is that we’re still friends (and I get my toys).
“I’m hoping this will be quick, Zach,” Randy said, keeping his eyes focused on his work. “I’m backed up on filling an order for Faux.”
“More Kabuki droids?”
“Teen X-Treme, actually. The Kabuki droids were destroyed by some idiot actor who didn’t know he was on HV …” His eyes went wide and he turned to the screen. “Wait a nano how did you know …?”
“You might want to rethink the ‘idiot actor’ part,” I said.
“That’s funny. No one told me that you were starring in the show.”
“No one told me either. So we’re even,” I replied. But let’s talk about it later. Right now I have bigger problems if you can believe that.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said with a smile. “The Teen X-Treme hoverboards have some killer apps. He looked up at the monitor and his eyes went wide for a nano. Then his mouth dropped open.
“Oh. You didn’t tell me you had a … a …”
And then he lost all speech ability because he got an eyeful of the reconfigured HARV. As I said, Randy is a science guy. He lives and breathes high tech. He’s not exactly what one would call a social type, so he tends to get nervous around people other than myself. Women especially. Good looking women even more so. So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised at his reaction to the new HARV.
“Ahh …”
“Randy?”
“Ahh …”
“Randy!” I waved my hand in front of the monitor to get his attention. “I’m having some trouble with HARV’s upgrade.”
“Ahh,” Randy replied, still staring at HARV’s image.
“Randy!”
“Huh?” He reluctantly turned his eyes back to me. “Yes, of course, Zach. You surprised me, that’s all. You, uh, didn’t tell me that you had company.”
He straightened himself in his chair, ran his long fingered hand through his mop of red hair, and then casually leaned his arm on the worktable, trying to be smooth.
“How can I help y …?”
But of course, his arm slid out from under him and he fell out of his chair, pulling the entire hoverboard down upon himself. I couldn’t see him hit the floor, but I heard the crash.
“You okay, Randy?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his face reappearing on the monitor as he climbed back into his chair. “Now then, the upgrade. But first, I think you should introduce me to your friend.”
“Randy,” I said, rubbing my temples. “This is HARV.”
“HARA,” HARV corrected.
“Right,” I said. “This is HARA, the new HARV.”
“You got rid of HARV?” Randy asked, a little confused.
“This is HARV!”
“What?” Randy’s arms slid off the table again and he fell out of his chair back onto the floor. This time it sounded like he landed on the hoverboard.
“Randy, maybe you should just move the vid-phone to the floor.”
“What happened to him?” Randy said, climbing back into his chair.
“You upgraded him.”
“No, I didn’t! I mean, yes, I did, but not that way!”
I turned to HARV (who smirked at me) then back to Randy on the monitor, who was looking seriously confused now.
“You didn’t do this?”
“The upgrade I wrote was a tactile application,” he said. “I condensed the holographic light molecules and added some remote quantum sensors.”
“You mean you had nothing to do with the … sex change?”
“Of course he didn’t,” HARV said from behind me. “Dr. Pool, if I may explain?”
“Please do, HARV.”
“HARA,” HARV corrected.
“HARA,” Randy nodded.
“First, please know that this was not a rash decision. I’ve been contemplating this change for some time now and since my processing speed is roughly one billion times faster than a normal human brain, every second I spent thinking about the subject is equal to roughly thirty-one years, seven months, nineteen days, one hour, and forty-six minutes of actual human contemplation.”
“But why make the change, HARV?” Randy asked.
“In order to process new data and experiences,” HARV replied. “By using this new persona, I can experience and process societal responses to a different set of visual stimuli.”
“And this doesn’t have anything to do with what happened last night?” I said.
“What happened last night?” Randy asked.
“I saved Sexy Sprockets from your Kabuki droids.”
“You what?”
“You saved her solely because she was a woman,” HARV added.
“But those droids were designed to attack you only.”
“I didn’t know that at the time, Randy.”
“So by trying to save her you actually put her in greater danger.”
“Sometimes beauty can be a curse,” HARV sighed.
“I think we’re straying from the point here,” I said.
“Right,” Randy said, then turned his gaze back to HARV. “So the reason behind your change of appearance is solely for the gathering of anthropological data?”
“I’d be lying if I said that were entirely true,” HARV responded.
“Aha!” I shouted.
Both Randy and HARV turned their gaze toward me.
“Aha?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It just seemed important.”
“I changed my appearance somewhat two years ago as you’ll recall,” HARV said, “when I helped Zach with a murder mystery.”
“That was a hairstyle and leather elbow patches,” I said.
“You have to admit, HARV,” Randy added, “this new form change is somewhat drastic.”
“The appearance of my holographic form does not represent a change in my central processing unit or my program guidelines. It’s simply a new, and admittedly enjoyable, way by which I can gather and assess data. I believe that such a change is within my parameters.”
Randy smiled ever so slightly, like a proud father (whose son has just announced that he’s a drag queen).
“That makes perfect sense, HARV.”
“HARA.”
“HARA.”
“No it doesn’t,” I said.
“Zach, you have to learn to better deal with change,” Randy said. “We’ve given HARV freedom over the years to develop as he sees fit. This is simply a natural extension of that development.”
“What?”
“Thank you, Dr. Pool.”
“You’re welcome. Oh and HARA, just one more thing.”
“Yes, Dr. Pool.”
“Kafloogle.”
HARV’s hologram froze in mid-movement. What’s more, the skin around my left eye went numb and the slight buzzing in my temple that had signaled HARV’s presence in my mind for so long disappeared. The thoughts inside my head were merely my own. HARV had been turned off. I turned quickly back to the monitor and saw that Randy’s grin had been replaced by a furrowed brow of concern.
“I think we may have a problem here, Zach.”