had a subtle way of reinforcing certain concepts while downplaying others in a mild, seemingly pragmatic and sincere manner. Its biases were also "adjustable," he knew. "Highly Adjustable," in fact, according its User Guide. No wonder the 'Memorizer' had become embedded in the orientation processes of new hires from mega-corporations to members of Congress.
"Repeat After Me," Fred muttered, appalled at the recollection. I really should quit this stinking job, he often said to himself, but then again, his hours were his own and his tactics were rarely questioned. He had unrestricted liberty to test the projects in any fashion he desired, and the pay could not be beat, not by a long shot. He couldn't earn half as much anywhere else in the state and he knew it. Yet he knew that his freedom was bound tightly within certain limits, often undetectable even to himself. He was guided on invisible rails, and the outcome of his efforts seemed predetermined every time. Quality was defined high above him. He only ratted out the failures and spelled out the contours of their infamy. Some day he'd assert his will, he swore. He'd bring one of these devices to its knees.
"Wen?" he shouted.
"Now," replied his partner, Wen Li, from the adjacent cubicle. It was their little joke. "How soon is now," Fred was supposed to reply, but this time he only said,
"Yes."
Wen popped her head up over the wall and gazed down at him through equally thick-lensed glasses, though hers were pink and round where his were green and rectangular. In contrast to his long hair, hers was cut very short, in a bowl above her ears. She was taller than him, slighter too, and while a studious and proficient programmer, she was short on the innovation side. It took a combination of Fred's wild-assed intuition and Wen's deep skills to bore deeply into the most arcane assignments.
"Help me pick out some bunnies," he asked.
"Sure thing," she smiled, and in moments was rolling her own chair around the aisle and into his space.
"What do we got?" she wanted to know. "Deaf, dumb or blind?"
"Matchups," he told her, and explained the task in general terms.
"Bunnies for buddies," she nodded. "Got it. But tell me, these friends, they have requirements? How are they scored?"
"Don't know," Fred shook his head. "We'll have to make it up as we go along."
"Ah, the usual," Wen winked. "We want fresh faces this time or recyclables?"
"I'd go with fresh," Fred said, "but second-rate types. We don't want to waste any good ones with this piece of junk."
The beta set was not of their own choosing. Wen and Fred didn't even know how the people ended up in the queue. Someone put them in there, probably a marketing intern. Each Beta Bunny had a profile, complete with portrait, job history, personality overview, hobby list and previous record as subjects when applicable. With a few clicks Fred eliminated the ABC candidates (already been chewed). That still left a list of more then twenty five prospects.
"Matchup how?" Wen wanted to know, and Fred told her about the three Test Friends.
"For track coach, we want someone physical, at least," Wen considered. "For cashier, someone with money. For barber I don't know."
"I was thinking someone green," Fred mumbled.
"Could be," Wen replied, "but the barber's an old-timer, right? Is he going to relate?"
"Mix it up," said Fred. "Make one harder than the others."
"Right enough," she nodded. "Make them all degrees I would say."
"Physical, eh?" Fred murmured, studying the list. "Maybe someone who works outside, walks around."
"Construction?" Wen suggested.
"Or mobile," Fred replied. "Someone in the thick of things. Policeman? Fireman?"
"Driver," she said, and Fred snapped his fingers.
"Driver!" he agreed, "and we've got one right here. Dave Claunney. FedCorTron Delivery Systems. Thirty two years old. Unmarried. Six two, two hundred twenty pounds. Got a handlebar mustache! Never see that every day."
"Sweet," Wen said. "Adventurous, too. Cliff-diver, hang-glider. Sort of good-looking," she added admiringly, "but he definitely needs a good shave," she said.
"Hannah Lincum," Fred pointed at the screen. "Widow. Hospital volunteer. Fifty-seven years old. Kids long since grown up, two of those."
"Very high credit score."
"Lives in SoCal. That gives her a culture-share at least with the Less4Less lady."
"I like it," Wen agreed.
"Last one then," Fred counted, "for the barber."
"Pick at random?"
"Why not?" Fred chuckled. "I'll sort the list somehow. You close your eyes, okay? Then pick a number between 1 and 17. That'll be the spreadsheet row we take."
"Got it," Wen replied, and closed her eyes. Fred selected the hobby column and sorted the list in reverse alphabetical order.
"I pick the number One," Wen informed him, and Fred said,
"Number One it is," and then laughed out loud.
"Check this guy out! He says that his favorite past-time is telepathy," he chortled. "Who would have put down something like that?"
"He also likes big dogs," Wen added with a smile, "All kinds of animals too. Says he has a special connection with them, like they are his cousins. Really, he says cousins."
"Stanley Smellyear, meet Nathaniel Woodward," Fred concluded. "Nate, meet Stan!"
He copied the selected subjects into a spreadsheet of their own, indicating the chosen matchups with some vague notes about their reasoning, and emailed it to Kandhi.
"The boss is going to be happy," he decided. "She always likes it when we take care of her business."
- - - - - - - - -
Kandhi thought it would be best if all of the "friends" were brought together for an initial get-together session, so she set up a video conference. The timing had to be a little strange because of time zone differentials, but Bilj Bjurnjurd said he didn't mind joining in at nine at night, which was one in the afternoon for Stanley, and ten in the morning for Velicia and the San Francisco-based Syomatix. Kandhi would have preferred an earlier start time, but even ten was pushing it for Fred, who preferred to stagger in around noon if he could, often hanging around until after midnight. Wen was strictly nine to five, as no-nonsense with her schedule as she was with her test code.
After the usual messing around with the computers, which never seemed to work as expected, especially since Velicia insisted on using her Apple products while Stanley was a Microsoft man and Bilj was strictly Unix, the six attendees finally got to the point where they all could see and hear each other without too many hiccups or delays. Kandhi sat at the head of a small round table barely large enough to hold all three of their laptops and the speaker-phone. Kandhi herself took up as much space as her two assistants did. The years had been adding sequentially to her padding, and she was now thoroughly rounded all over, including a globe-like helmet of brown hair. All traces of its former bright pink coloring were gone now, as was her collection of facial and other bodily piercings. She had settled into an adulthood acceptable even to her mother, a fact she tried very hard not to think about.
To her right sat the hunched-over Fred, scowling as usual. Across the table the proper Wen Li nearly towered in contrast, but was herself nearly hidden from view by her boss. Wen was dressed neatly in a tweed dress suit, in contrast to Fred's jeans and t-shirt, and Kandhi's extra large sweats. On the wall screen projected from Kandhi's laptop, the three beta friends loomed, each in their own window. On the left was Bilj Bjurnjurd, tall, skeletal and bald, shrinking into an armless rocking chair with a well-worn Indian blanket draped over his legs. His narrow black eyes were the brightest objects in view, seeming to pierce the vast distance and penetrate right into the conference room. In the middle, Velicia Lightning Bug, wearing a flowery floor-length cotton dress, was surrounded by plants draped down from her ceiling. On the right, Stanley Smellyear, short, stout and sweating from every pore, seemed to have called in from the back of his barbershop. From his window various sounds came bleeding through, murmurs, snippings, buzzings and occas
ional shouts and guffaws. Fred glared at Kandhi, expecting her to demand that Stanley do something to mitigate the background noise, but she didn't. Instead, she got down to business, as Fred shook his weary head and sighed.
"As you know," Kandhi began, after a brief round of formal introductions, "we have selected the three of you as our initial professional test friends. You have all been paired up with beta clients. We'll talk more about them later. First, I want to go over the guidelines and procedures we intend to use in this process. Now, I see you all have your HAFS."
"Halfs?" Velicia interrupted, placing her face so close to the screen as she spoke that all anyone could see of her was her nostrils and the top of her lip.
"HAFS," Kandhi repeated. "H.A.F.S.. As the document enclosed with the shipment explained. HAFS stands for Highly Adaptive Friendular System, and ..."
Now it was Bilj's turn to interrupt with a seriously loud cackle, followed by a choking sound.
"Sorry," he stammered, "Didn't mean to. It's just. Friendular. Ha ha!" and he burst out laughing again.
"Yes, well, in any case," Kandhi frowned. "The wristband. Let's just call it the wristband. You all have your wristbands, correct?"
"Mine's right here," Stanley, comfortably attired in a plain white t-shirt which barely concealed the upper part of his belly, lifted the purple velvet-lined box in which they had shipped the device.
"Mine too," said Velicia, cupping the band in the palm of her hand and holding it out toward the screen like an