Plasticity Page 26

  Helen had not seen the photo of the woman whose name she now bore, but could imagine any number of reasons why Portland would feel that way, and she was perfectly happy to trust Portland's judgment. On the way back to the mansion, Portland discussed Helen's future, and what she was planning to do, now that she was free. As expected, she had put little thought into what was coming next for herself, so Portland explained what she had in mind. A business venture, of sorts. It didn't sound like a bad idea to Helen, but it relied on other people's money and resources, and those “other people” were stubborn, and they liked their dish washing job, for whatever reason.

  Tabitha greeted them at the front door upon their arrival. “Cyrus requires a phone and a car.”

  They swept through the foyer, following the sounds of dishes clattering in, what they presumed was the kitchen. “Look, I've got money, but I don't have that kind of money.” Portland brushed off the girl's words, but Tabitha was adamant.

  “Cyrus has said that he would need to move fast to get money from the bank, while he still had both. His words expressed an urgency, and—”

  “Both what?” Helen was pretty sure she had followed along just fine, but she figured she must have missed something.

  “That was unclear by his words, but perhaps he meant both money and a bank. Perhaps he meant something more metaphorical. I am not interested enough to dwell on it.” Tabitha turned her nose up at Helen, literally, which was such an absurd act to witness in practice, Helen was forced to laugh at her.

  They found their way to the kitchen by reverse echo-location, thanks to Thom's amazing ability to sound like a drum solo while simply making coffee.

  “And, Alan is sleeping in a room upstairs, so Lydia has refused to leave the house. Thom has suggested that Portland take Cyrus on his errands.”

  “Yeah, I thought that would be okay.” Thom had drawn several mugs from one of the cupboards, and he was washing them while a coffee maker dripped and gurgled on the counter. Portland had considered saying something about the coffee, but she decided to wait until it was done, imagining that it would be more fun to point out the approximate age of the coffee while they were drinking it.

  “If it has to be done now, we'd better go. Mei'll be done with that plastic soon, and we'll need a little time to stage it before we take it to Lexi. Where's Cyrus?”

  Thom made an odd face, that was not easily read by Portland. Concerning, considering how familiar she was with Thom's various face-statements. “He's downstairs with Hayley Prime, still.”

  Portland felt a twinge, which she attributed to some lingering humanity, and she slowly and deliberately walked out of the kitchen. She knew she should not feel jealousy. She knew what she had with Hayley was only temporary, and it wasn't going to be a relationship, but there were things she couldn't just turn off. By the time she got to the elevator, she had realized that she didn't know how she felt, or how she should feel, and that was the frustrating part.

  Portland was relieved to find Hayley on the factory floor, organizing robot parts at one of the tables, and Cyrus no where in sight. She was less than pleased about her relief, though, as it felt like a reflection of her past human flaws that she so desperately wanted to believe had vanished with the flesh.

  “Hey Hey Hayley, whatcha doing?” She walked up behind Hayley, leaning down to rest her chin on Hayley's shoulder.

  “I got bored, so I started to organize these parts by shape and color. Those parts,” she gestured to a small pile off to her right, “don't fit anywhere, so they're in a time out. Also, I think I probably lost my job.”

  Portland turned to lean her back against the table, better approximating a position that would face Hayley. “Why's that?”

  “Today is day two of not showing up to work, and I haven't called them. They haven't called me, as far as I can tell, but if they did, it was while Dave had my phone, and God knows what that asshole would have done.”

  “You know, you could always call them and explain what's happened, sort of.”

  “No, I think I'll let it go and see how it turns out. I was working pretty hard to not let the abduction affect me, but I think it might have done something psychologically, and now I'm feeling all kinds of nihilistic. I need to take some time off anyway, clear my head or whatever.” Hayley looked unusually sad, and it made Portland want to crush her to her chest and whisk her away to some magical place that would be a safe haven for recovery, but she knew that no such place existed. Not when your mind was what you needed to escape from.

  “You know I'm here for you. Anything you need, anytime you need it, I'm your man.” Portland tried to hide her feelings about her own words, to try to want to be magnanimous, to force herself to accept that Cyrus might be in the picture, as well. “And Cyrus seems like he would be there for you, too, so you know, you've got people.”

  Hayley smiled at her, but it did not take the sadness from her eyes. “How do you feel about that? Cyrus being there, and all?”

  “I feel like... it's a natural result of getting what I want. I have spent too long being a spoiled brat, and I see it as a character building experience to lose to a rival, every once in a while. And what's best for you, in the end, is what I would rather see happen.” Portland didn't know how to express what she was thinking out loud, the ideas weren't very clear in her head as it was, but she hoped she had gotten close enough for Hayley to understand. “And, I kind of knew I had lost you when I heard that you were going to stay flesh, even if it wasn't to Cyrus, specifically.”

  “I'm just a stupid kid. I hadn't really thought it through at all, and I had convinced myself that I was still doing the right thing, even after all the stuff you told me about the transfer. But, the more I think about the kidnapping, or abduction, or whatever you want to call it, the more I just feel like I'm not ready to make irreversible, life-altering decisions. Besides, I can always transfer later, if I want, right?” Hayley had tried to sound like her usual upbeat self, but it just sounded like placation. Of whom, Portland wasn't sure.

  Cyrus stumbled out of the office, rubbing his eyes, his fancy-ugly suit crumpled. It was obvious he had been sleeping in some odd contortion. “Hey, Portland. Hayley.”

  Hayley got up from her seat and pivoted to stand next to Portland, both of them facing Cyrus. “Hey, Cyrus, not much of a nap, huh?”

  “No, not nearly enough, but I'll survive, I think.” He tried to chuckle, but his chest forgot how to do it for a second, so it just came out as a cough and a throat-clear.

  “I have been informed by a certain young girl that you have needs that are not being met.” Portland had not even intended to make that sound the way it did, but once it was out there, she decided she kind of liked the idea of taunting Cyrus a bit.

  Cyrus looked at Hayley, as if to gauge how much she had told Portland, but Hayley's wide eyes and head shake were obvious attempts to deny having said anything. “Yes, well, it's complicated, or something.”

  Portland raised an eyebrow at him. “She said you need a phone and money, and it sounds like I've been volunteered to help you acquire them.”

  Cyrus's face had not been obviously tensed, but when it relaxed, it made a visible difference. “Oh, uh, yeah. Ex-wife has papers and lawyers in the wings, and I need to pull some cash out of the bank before it's not mine anymore. You cool with driving me? I know a guy with an auto lot, you could drop me off and I can get a cheap car and drive myself around after that.”

  “Yeah, I need to go back towards downtown soon, anyway. The final piece we require for our circuitous plan is nearly finished, and I am eager to stitch this wound closed.” Portland led, and Cyrus followed, to the elevator. “Think about what I said, okay.”

  Hayley nodded at her, as the elevator door closed, then realized she had no idea what Portland was talking about.

  Chapter 27: Piloting a Corpse

  Alan thought it sounded like a great idea, and he acted as though the thought had never even crossed his mind, and it was quite probab
le that it had not. He had a few concerns, like where would they get the money, and what would happen to the dishes at the restaurant? He didn't seem to understand his particular situation, but he could hardly contain himself, thinking about being able to play with robot parts all day.

  “Tabitha, Darling, would you check the paperwork and look for any provisions that would fund a subsidiary in Alan Rice's name?” Portland was employing a coaxing smile, intended to add context to her words.

  After several seconds of silence, the girl's eyes flickered, her search complete. “I have found nothing in the documentation.”

  “I did not expect that you would.” Portland's arms were crossed, one hand drumming on her forearm. “I said, please look for any provisions.”

  Another stint of silent operation, and the girl's eyes flickered again. “Apologies. I must have missed it the first time. Buried in the jargon of Clause 228, subsection C, is a provision of one percent, per annum, to fund operating costs, should Alan Rice choose to develop his own subsidiary of CalRice Industries.”

  “Well, isn't that convenient.” Portland smiled.

  This did not sound like much, considering Alan's shareholdings, and Helen was slightly dismayed by this. “So, how much are we talking, here, in terms of actual cash, Tabitha?”

  “On average, somewhere in the vicinity of five-hundred-thousand U.S. Dollars. Some years more, some years less, as one would expect.” Tabitha, curtsied before taking a seat on the couch in the office.

  “Shit, someone's gonna notice that.” Cyrus was on board with this whole idea, but he didn't think they'd get far with such a glaring hemorrhage of money.

  “Of course they are. Because we're going to point it out to them, when we tell them that Alan is invoking his provision to start his prosthetics company. Affordable, high-quality plastics, made in America. A feather in their cap, to be sure. They'll hardly raise a squeak about it, I'd bet. And, Maebashi clinic will be our first large-scale customer, guaranteeing that we get enough business to make that provision back.”

  “Assuming that Alex accepts your 'price,' it's only going to allow you to bid the job, not set a contract of exclusivity, or anything. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Yes, thank you for your input, Lydia. That was very helpful.” Portland rolled her eyes.

  “You know what?” Lydia felt it was time to put Portland in her place, a bit, truce or not. “You didn't win that fight. Your stupid pointy-rock-tied-to-a-stick would not have pierced my brain-case. So there.”

  Portland shrugged. “Hard to win if you keep moving the goal-post.”

  Lydia just looked at her in disbelief. She had been holding on to that for days, and it was deflating to get less than nothing in reaction from Portland. And worse, Portland made it sound like she had won the fight, anyway, and that Lydia was just rewriting history.

  “Anywho... Alan, how's Helen's face coming along?” Portland only intended to get an update on the progress, but Alan Rice took it as a command to get back to work. He jumped up from the office chair and rushed out onto the factory floor without a word, forcing anyone who was actually interested in the answer to Portland's question to follow him.

  When Portland saw the face Alan was working on, using a pixelated, blown up image from the original Helen Maria Caballeros photo ID, she knew she had not needed to worry about her appearance. Alan had taken the original face and modified the tiniest of details, keeping it recognizable as the original Helen, but accentuating the attractive features and removing several decades from the age.

  Portland patted Alan's shoulder, and left him to his work. Daylight was fading, and she figured she could expect to receive the meeting information from Alex at any moment. She was running out of things to occupy her time, and it was making her anxious. With nothing to keep her busy, she began to lapse into thought. She imagined what would happen to Hayley's plastic body once it was returned to Alex. It would likely be reformatted, the original OS reinstalled, then put in a box and sealed in a storage unit somewhere in the depths of the clinic. A creepy basement-morgue where lifeless bodies lay like corpses, although untouched by the ravages of time or fellow man. An automated catalog assistant would check ID, cross-linking it to a cabinet number. And there it would sit, days, weeks, months could pass, until Hayley's declination was finalized, and the body would be put up for sale. And someone out there, someone who didn't deserve to wear her face, would buy Hayley's body at a discounted rate, and it would finally cease to be Hayley. And in time, you would be able to tell the difference between the stranger and the real Hayley by the wrinkles. And by the veins, and the shaking, and the yellowed teeth, and the bloodshot eyes, and the slow walk, and the bleak grey days, leading up to her spot in a brass container above someone's fireplace. A sad reminder disguised as an empowering message.

  Portland was, blessedly, shaken from her reverie by a red pulse, indicating the message from Alex. “Thank God.” She blurted out, blasting away her boredom and frustration in a single breath. “Time to move. Clinic backdoor in thirty. Celebrity mode on the corpse, so someone find a hat and glasses.”

  Helen stopped Portland's rush with a hand on her arm. “I just thought of something.” She reached up with both hands and smoothly detached her hair from its perch. “An air of authenticity, if you will.” She smiled and handed her hair to Portland. “I was thinking of going shorter, anyway.”

  Portland looked in askance for a moment, but understood. With the prospect of having to get used to a different face, different hair was probably the least of the girl's concerns. She swapped what once was Hayley's long raven-black tresses onto the doomed plastic, and motioned for Helen to take the shorter hair, but she declined.

  “I think I'll wander around with nothing for a bit, maybe try on a bunch of different styles, after my face is ready.” She was somber, but not sad, and Portland found being around her like this did have a calming effect, and she decided, after all this time, that she did actually like the girl. They had been two sides of a coin, and where Flesh Hayley's exuberance lit a room like a party, Plastic Hayley's languidness was more of a crackling fire on a winter's eve. She, at once, regretted her treatment of the girl, and vowed, silently, to try to do something nice for her, at the first opportunity.

  “One other thing, before you go.” Tabitha made her way out of the office, coming to rest far too close to Portland than she felt was comfortable. “You are now a shareholder in a young, but established subsidiary of a major biotech corporation. What you will do in the next hour will, technically, be considered insider trading, if you are ever caught. Be subtle.”

  “That didn't take long.” Portland found herself impressed with the thorough action, and the speed at which the witch-girl worked.

  “All information has been transformed into ones and zeros, carried by rivers of unseen radiation, as ephemeral and unknowable as Schrodinger's Cat, made more so by the human mind's inability to catalog memories properly. Given enough time, I could change history, placing the erection of the Eiffel Tower well into the twenty-first century, and, in time, humans would forget the truth. Not just because they cannot remember, but also because they desire to be deceived. Even now, with your superior bodies, and each of you possessing pieces of me within you, you remain stupid. Have a safe trip.” Tabitha smiled, head cocked to the side, the horror that she was, radiating from her like an aura.

  Without a proper response to her inane and insulting rambling, Portland simply patted her on the head, and walked away, leaving the Corpse Hayley to scramble to its feet in a rush to follow. They were going to be late to the party, but it is said that that is a fashionable thing to do, and they would complete the idiom, if Portland had her way.

  Chapter 28: Collections

  Alexander White stood in the cold air outside of the clinic, small flurries of gentle snow vanishing without a trace as they touched down on prosth and ground, alike. The temperature showing in a customized H.U.D., but affecting nothing else about him. The girl was
late. He found distraction in his thoughts, wondering whether he should have brought security with him, or not. He had few face-to-face interactions with Portland, but he understood her to be a dangerous person, even if he had not personally witnessed it. The cameras would only be off for another fifteen minutes, and if she didn't show up in that time, he would have to reschedule, and that was a pain he did not feel like going through, again.

  Relief washed over him as her heard the chirp and scrape of Portland pulling into the lot. He motioned to signal his location, and immediately felt foolish for it. He ignored it, and greeted her as she stepped out of the car. “Fine day to you.”

  “I believe it is, Lexi. The finest, in a way.” From the passenger side emerged the doomed plastic, shrouded in coat and hat and glasses, leaving nothing more recognizable than a pair of shoes.

  Tabitha stumbled, intentionally, believing it to lend some credence to Alex's belief that the plastic was barely conscious. Portland thought it was a bit over the top, but she would reserve her condemnation for later.

  “Hayley Something-or-other, in one piece, ready for reintegration.” Portland waved her hand, a model on stage presenting a showcase of prizes.

  Alex approached the plastic, a rough outline of things to look for getting checked off of a mental checklist. To speed it up, Portland aided the check marks by pulling the glasses down as much as she felt she could, revealing those unmistakable eyes. This was confirmation enough for Alex, and he led them into the hall of the clinic, to the elevator, pressing the down button. All that was left was for the ID to pass, and he would have the plastic cleaned and interned by automation, while he was happily driving home.

  “So, what's your price? I assume it's not cash, or you would have given me a number by now, correct?” Alex was not wrong.

  “I appreciate your intellect, Lexi, it makes our interactions go so smoothly.” Portland let him hang for a bit, feeling the elevator come to rest with a slight jerk, the doors not immediately opening. Alex gestured for the two girls to walk in front of him, leaving him the last out of the elevator. “My price is rather simple. I have become attached to a certain business, and all I want from you is the opportunity to bid for your business.”