* * * * * *
The siren of the teleporter whines down and the swirling lights fade away. Only when it is all done does Maggie Fender step off of the platform. To Origami’s chagrin, Maggie has developed the habit of checking every part of herself to make sure all of her is still there, every time she goes through the teleporter. She examines both arms by raising both into the air in a ‘Y’ shape, looking at both arms and turning her hands back and forth. Then, she looks back over each shoulder to make sure that everything that is supposed to be back there is still there. After which, she shakes her head to check her hair. Finally, she sticks each leg out one at a time and wiggles each foot.
As Maggie looks up and sees Frankie standing several feet in front of her, staring, her face turns a bright shade of pink. Embarrassed, Maggie does the only thing she can: she ignores her own embarrassment and runs up and gives Frankie a hug. “Frankie! It’s so good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Mags. What was that?” Frankie inquires, pointing to the teleporter. “I thought that you were just doing that to mess with Origami.”
“I was. At first,” Maggie confesses. “But now, I just can’t help myself. It’s just something I have to do. But it’s only here. Thank god.”
“Hahahaha,” Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “So other than that tick of yours, how have you been?”
“Busy. Sorry. The new semester started and I got more classes that require physical attendance this time around.”
“Say no more. We can hang out more when you get the time. I’m just glad you stuck around. Origami can be a bit prickly, but he’s decent.”
Maggie chuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. Except for class. Are you leaving already?”
“Yea, mom needs me back at the dinner. Dad’s off at some retreat until the week’s out.” Frankie does a little dance as he cheerfully tells Maggie, “And I got a date tonight.”
“Ooooh. Is she cute?” Maggie inquires, clapping her hands together.
“Beautiful. Her name is Nala and I met her on the train, on my way here in fact.”
“Just be nice to her and she better be nice to you.” Maggie playfully socks Frankie in the side.
Rubbing his side, Frankie responds, “I’m gonna have to buff that out. Thanks Mags. My mom is still riding me for getting my side busted up in that accident. And when did you get so violent?”
“Ouch…sorry,” Maggie apologizes, shaking out her hand. “If your mom really does get mad, just tell her it was my fault. Because it was. And, if Mr. Origami ever pays me, I’ll pay you back.” She frowns a little, leaning to the side and tilting her head, looking at Frankie’s side.
“Kidding, Mags. I mean, she is still riding me and all about that accident. But this is nothing.”
“Good,” Maggie says leaning back up. She looks toward Frankie with pleading eyes, “So, you got something for me?”
“Food's on your desk,” Frankie say, pointing with his thumb over shoulder.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Maggie rushes over and gives Frankie a kiss on his cheek. “I just love your mother’s cooking. Be sure to thank her for me. I’ll stop in tonight to say hi, ok.”
“I’ll let her know.” Frankie pecks Maggie on the cheek with his metal mouth, while gently squeezing her shoulders. “I’m sure she’ll want some company for dessert, with dad gone and me on my date.”
“Sounds like fun. And have fun on your date.”
Frankie and Maggie say their goodbyes and Maggie watches as Frankie leaves through the teleporter. After, she rushes to her desk to eat the food Frankie brought from his mom. Mr. Origami will still be eating in his office when she finishes, so she decides that she will bring up Mr. Burges to him again then.
+ + + + + +
Stasis fields are nice. They almost literally stop time. Developed during the Great Wars, they were primarily used to save the lives of the critically injured. That practice is still done today. But now there are other commercial uses for the technology. Like making sure Frankie’s mother’s cooking is as good when you eat it as it was when she made it. Delicious.
I’ll be sure to return the pods when I go thank her in person, after I solve my case.
And it looks about time to get back to work. Even though I’m still finishing my meal, a very tender brisket, Maggie’s already done and returning from the break room after cleaning her dishes. She places them back in the pod and makes her way to my office.
For a small young woman, Maggie can sure wolf down food. Frankie used to be self-conscience about the way he ate, until he met Maggie. Many robots, Frankie included, eat. They have ridges in their mouths that act like teeth and break down food before a processor at the back of the throat purees the food into a paste that is burned for additional fuel. Excess waste is expelled as a liquid, which is why many robots use restrooms. Anyway, sometimes it’s odd to see robots eat; for Frankie, it actually took him a long time to get used to it. But it’s nothing compared to the way Maggie eats.
“Done already?” I ask of my assistant, as she crosses the threshold into my office.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Maggie sarcastically replies. She harbors no embarrassment over her quirks. Nor should she. “Do you want me to take your pod back to the diner? I’m going to stop by there for dessert later tonight.”
“No. I need to talk with both Mrs. and Mr. Hy-Fy. So, I’ll stop in when he gets back from his retreat.”
“Ok. And remember I have class tomorrow.” Of course she knows I know, and I never forget. She wants to bring up Mr. Burges again. I’m sure of it. And I’m sure that wherever she got off to had something to do with him. Maggie’s always taken the walk-around approach to bringing something up. Like she’s doing now. Usually I dance around with her, but I don’t really have the time right now.
“Maggie,” I grab her attention, as I stand from my chair. “Go dark.”
Her initial surprise at my request abates quickly as she hurries to comply. Maggie rushes to her desk and I follow at a slower pace. From the top right corner drawer of her desk she pulls out a lite-pad. Next she taps on it, inputting protocol commands that I had set up when I got the office. The ability to freely customize the office to suit my needs was the main reason I wanted this space, second only to its size, of course. In response to the commands inputted by Maggie, the lights in the entire office flicker, switching to light that is darker and has the ability to black out all manner of visual sensors. A low vibrating sound starts, the white noise of which engulfs all audio sensors within the space. The teleporter locks, although I’m not sure that this additional lock would have kept out my guest last night, and all of the windows around the perimeter of the office go black, pitch black. The windows have layers of nanites within them that I fully control. One of their many functions is to buffer sound and prevent the passage of light. No external sensors, lasers or other forms of monitoring can penetrate this kind of defense and all of the monitoring equipment in the box in my office, or any that I may have missed, is effectively rendered useless while these protocols are in place.
Ok. Time to get to work.
“CIBL. Pause current activities and open all the recent files from my office server.”
“Yes, St.Claire,” replies CIBL’s electronic voice. Out in the main space, its voice comes out in surround sound, as if it was speaking from all over. So, it’s just a bit louder than in my office. And a lot more annoying.
“Oh, good morning CIBL,” Maggie cheerfully greets the non-sentient AI. Maggie does know and understand that CIBL isn’t alive but she regards CIBL as a part of the team. And Maggie has stated more than once that there is no harm in obliging CIBL’s eccentricities, and treating CIBL as if CIBL was sentient. Really the only harm it does is make my headache over CIBL bigger. I’d fix it if CIBL was actually broken. All of its subroutines operate within normal parameters so there’s just no
need to change anything, at this time.
“Good morning Maggie. Are you feeling well today?”
“Yes. Thank you, CIBL. But Mr. Origami is being a bit of a butt, today,” Maggie says to CIBL while staring straight at me with a stern look on her face, with her arms firmly crossed. She’s clearly talking to me just as much as she is talking to CIBL, if not more so.
“I agree, Maggie. I experienced his buttishness earlier this morning myself.”
A big grin crosses Maggie’s face. One of her favorite things to do, when she’s upset with me, is have fun at my expense with CIBL. “CIBL could you run a diagnostic on Mr. Origami, to find out what is the cause of his buttishness?”
I don’t really care for this, but I have yet to bring Maggie in on the case. That’ll be fixed in just a moment. And I can’t stop her when she’s like this.
“I have not the capability to run such a diagnostic.”
“Bummer,” Maggie sarcastically responds.
“However, I can assess that the state of St.Claire’s temperament might have something to do with the woman who was here last night. Although, it might just be a slight exaggeration of his usual stiff attitude.” Stiff? I must be if that’s how CIBL observes me. It doesn’t have any code to represent sarcasm. Even the use of the word ‘buttishness’ isn’t sarcastic or an original thought from CIBL. Maggie coined the term during her second week