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  Bill helped Julie into her pod and then lay down in his own, while Jorb and Rinka did the same. The covers closed simultaneously, and there was a swell of orchestral music. Even though the test subjects couldn’t see each other in the darkness, they were somehow aware of one another’s presence. There were some strange flashes of light, a couple of clunks, and they all heard the young Stryx’s voice somewhere in the background saying, “Oops. Third time’s the charm.”

  “Huh?” Bill said, looking around. “Where are we?”

  “Standing in front of your café,” Flower’s voice responded through the closest speaker grille. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Jeeves said that you wouldn’t be able to talk to us,” Julie said. “Maybe we’ve been teleported back, like in all those science fiction…” her voice trailed off as Bill turned her way and she saw his face. Her hands went to her own face and she stifled a scream. “What happened to my skin?”

  Bill turned pale. “I think something went wrong,” he said. “Jorb, tell Jeeves to let us out of here.”

  “It’s just an illusion, don’t trust your sense of touch,” the Drazen reassured them. “I don’t know what this LARP is intended to do, but going by the new rings on my tentacle, I think it’s projecting us about fifty years into the future.”

  “You look almost as old as Geoffrey,” Julie told Bill, her voice coming out in a whisper.

  “And you must be around Bianca’s age now,” he said, and then hastily appended, “The younger one.”

  “Are the two of you really going to age this fast?” Rinka asked. “It seems so unfair.”

  “JB’s Café,” Jorb read the sign above the empty café. “That must be Julie and Bill.”

  “And the Singing Dojo is ours?” Rinka grabbed Jorb’s elbow and pointed. “I’m almost afraid to look inside.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jorb said, then he squared his shoulders and strode toward the dojo.

  The doors slid open and a small Drazen girl rushed out crying, “Poppa! Poppa!” She leapt in the air and thudded into Jorb’s chest, wrapping her tentacle around his neck. “Borl took my gryphon doll and he won’t give it back!”

  “Who’s Borl?” Jorb asked reflexively.

  The little Drazen girl was so surprised that she stopped crying and pulled her head back to examine Jorb’s face. “Borl. My older brother.” She turned towards Rinka. “Momma? What’s wrong with Poppa’s memory?”

  For a moment Rinka looked like her legs were going to fail her, but then she steeled herself and held out her arms. “Let me have her, Jorb. You better go check and see what trouble your son is getting himself into.”

  The little girl laughed as she was transferred from one parent to the other. “When Borl’s good, he’s your son,” she said to Rinka. “When he’s bad, he’s Poppa’s.”

  “You better check behind our counter,” Julie urged Bill, as Rinka followed Jorb into the dojo. “I’m too frightened by what I might see.”

  “Do you think I’m going to find our kids hiding back there?” he asked and gave a nervous chuckle. “If we do have any, I hope they’re living on their own by now.” Still, he couldn’t help hesitating as he entered the café. “Anybody here?”

  A young boy, perhaps ten, popped his head up over the counter. “Dewey made me do it.”

  “Made you do what?”

  “Eat the last piece of chocolate cake. I told him that if you and grandma wanted me to have it you would have said something.”

  “Dewey?” Bill called cautiously.

  A devastatingly handsome man who appeared to be in his early forties came through the swinging door that led from the kitchen. He was carrying a tray of fancy pastries made from the translucent dough favored by Hortens so they could see the fillings.

  “Thanks for the loan of the kitchen,” the stranger said. “I’m sure you know what picky eaters the Hortens are, and I wouldn’t want to start the intelligence conference off on the wrong foot.” He placed the tray on the counter, ruffled the boy’s hair, and then looked past Bill at Julie. “What are you staring at, Jewels?”

  “Jewels?” she repeated the unexpected nickname. “Is that really you, Dewey? Did you buy a body and become an artificial person?”

  “This old thing?” the AI said, framing his face with his hands. “I’ve had it for fifty years now. Next you’re going to ask me if I’m still running the Human Empire’s intelligence service.”

  “I have to sit down,” Julie said, collapsing into a chair at one of the café’s tables. “I need something to drink.”

  “Milk,” Flower suggested via one of the overhead speaker grilles. “Why don’t you bring them both a glass, Harry?”

  Bill and Julie both stared at the swinging door, watching for a hundred-and-twenty-year-old man to emerge, but it was the boy who came out from behind the counter with two glasses of milk on a tray.

  “Your parents named you Harry?” Bill asked.

  “Mom said you insisted,” Harry told him. “The same with my sister Irene. Are you really not mad about my eating the last piece of chocolate cake?”

  “How could we ever be mad at you?” Julie asked, her voice choking up as her eyes began to water. “You’re like a little angel.”

  “I hope you recorded that, Flower,” the boy said to the ceiling. “I’m going to be asking you to play it back for grandma—a lot.” He looked over as a Drazen boy entered the café. “Did you get it, Borl?”

  “Poppa said I could go and he gave me ten creds for the rides.”

  “Great. See you later, Dewey. And don’t you guys forget about my school play tonight.” As Harry rushed out after his Drazen friend, Bill distinctly heard him say to Borl, “Grandparents. If you don’t remind them all the time, they forget.”

  “I’ve got to get going too,” the artificial person said. “After I finish with the Horten delegation, I’ve got a hot date with an artificial person who joined Flower when we stopped at Chintoo. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck, Dewey,” Julie and Bill chorused reflexively as he exited with the tray of Horten pastry. Then they each took a swallow of milk and stared at one another, trying to process what had just happened.

  “Well, aren’t you going to tell her?” Flower prompted.

  “Tell her what?” Bill asked.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been planning this for months.”

  “You have?” Julie asked, looking at him suspiciously.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Bill said.

  “I’m going to have to ask M793qK to come by and look you both over,” the Dollnick AI said. “You’re acting very strange.”

  “Just tell us,” Julie said.

  “Then don’t blame me for ruining the surprise. Bill always felt bad about not being able to afford a nice engagement ring when he originally proposed so he bought one for your fiftieth anniversary. Check your pockets.”

  Bill rooted around in his pants and came out with a small jeweler’s box. He peeked inside, began to pass it to Julie, and then pulled it back.

  “Did you change your mind after fifty years?” Julie asked.

  “Not one bit of it,” he said, getting up from his place and then going down on one knee. “Julie. I know that this is just some sort of beta test, but it will probably be another fifty years before I can afford a ring like this, and—”

  “Did you fall, Bill?” interrupted a middle-aged woman dressed like a female George Washington in a Revolutionary War uniform complete with a three-cornered hat. She rushed up behind the elderly suitor and lifted him back onto his feet. Then she did a double-take at the jeweler’s box. “Is it your fiftieth anniversary already? Flower told me she was planning a surprise party and—damn, I just did it again, didn’t I?”

  “Em?” Julie asked. “Lynx’s little Em? And you’re still wearing those purple glasses the Farling doctor gave you?”

  “You know that I dug them out to wear last year when I became captain and f
ound out that children were afraid of my uniform. The eyeglasses soften the whole effect, and it drives Flower crazy that I wear them,” she added with a chuckle. “Hey, as long as I’ve already ruined your special moment, I’m dying for a coffee.”

  “I’ll get it,” Bill said, pocketing the jeweler’s box and moving around the counter. “Julie probably wants a little time to think it over in any case.”

  “Think what over?” Em asked. “The two of you are acting strange. And why is this place so empty? Did young Harry switch the sugar for the salt again?”

  “We, uh, do you remember the last fifty years?” Julie asked her.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me? Better make that coffee to go, Bill. I think your wife has been reading too many of her own time-travel romances. I’m boycotting D’Arc books until she gets back to the gryphon shifters.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out how real this is,” Julie protested, but Bill had already brought the coffee in a takeout cup. “Wait. Are you saying that I became the eighth Bianca D’Arc and I’m still writing?”

  “Okay, you got me,” the captain said, giving them both a wink. “I hope I still have a sense of humor when I get to be your age.” She brushed past Jorb and Rinka as they entered the café together.

  “Jeeves tricked us,” Jorb said immediately. “It’s our second level test.”

  “Is that like an Open University thing?” Bill asked. “I haven’t even finished my remedial preparation course yet.”

  “You’re preparing for university?” Julie asked.

  “I was going to tell you if I passed the entrance exam.”

  “Not a test for you, a test for us,” Jorb said. “It’s our second level compatibility test, and that Drazen consortium Jeeves mentioned has to be the one in which my family are the majority stakeholders. They must have spent a ton of creds to get Jeeves to interfere in our courtship.”

  “But all of this—it’s too real,” Julie said. “Do the Drazens have this level of technology?”

  “We don’t,” Rinka told her. “A standard second-level compatibility test involves a long period of fasting and meditation, followed by hallucinogenic drugs and hypnosis. The whole family on both sides has to fill out endless questionnaires so that the professional surrogates can act the required parts. It’s half-scripted, half-improvisational theatre.”

  “You look pretty happy about it,” Bill observed. “I don’t remember seeing you holding hands like that before.”

  “We passed,” Jorb said. “My family will probably disown me for finding my own match, but I never wanted to join the consortium anyway.”

  “Just ten more years now and Jorb can officially propose,” Rinka said happily. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear.”

  “Ten years!” Julie and Bill said together.

  “That’s the minimum wait. Besides, now that I’ve had the experience of actually being a parent for a few minutes, I know how much preparing I have to do. Ten years is barely enough time to study up.”

  “So while we were meeting future versions of people we know, you were taking a test?” Bill asked.

  “Meeting people is the test,” Jorb told them. “Once I figured out what was going on, I said to Rinka, ‘This is the future I want for us.’”

  “And I said, ‘This is the only future I will accept,’ and everything on our side of the corridor just faded away,” Rinka explained. “A voice told us we passed and to come and get you.”

  “This is the future I want for us too, Julie,” Bill said, and he dug the jeweler’s box out of his pocket again.

  “It’s a good future,” Julie agreed, reaching for the box. Jorb and Rinka disappeared, replaced by a little old lady who looked like the kind grandmother from a holiday immersive.

  “Who are you?” Bill demanded. “What happened to our friends?”

  “They’re getting out of the sensory deprivation pods now, but I told Jeeves to give me a private minute with the two of you. I’m the Union Station librarian, and I provided all of the characters for your immersive experience.”

  “So it wasn’t an official Drazen test?”

  “It was for Jorb and Rinka,” Libby replied. “I’m simply taking advantage of the opportunity to step out of the background and introduce myself to the two of you.”

  “What’s so special about us?” Julie asked.

  The old lady gave them a warm smile. “I think the two of you are very special people, but of course, I have a weakness for Humans who empathize with artificial intelligence. I wanted to speak with you about Flower.”

  “Are you the Stryx mentor she’s always talking about?”

  “Yes. Flower has been a bit of a special project for me. She was totally devastated when her crew rejected her, and for a long time, it wasn’t clear whether she would survive, or worse, whether we would have to terminate her.”

  “Terminate her? What did she ever do to anybody?”

  “Dollnick AI isn’t built around stable solutions to the equations of artificial intelligence, and in the absence of a mission, it can go off in very bad directions. Finding work for Flower as EarthCent’s circuit ship has provided her with a new focus, but she’s still very fragile in some ways. Without violating the confidentiality of the mentoring relationship, I can tell you that Flower has a great deal of affection for you both.”

  “Was she participating in this?” Julie asked.

  “No, that was me playing Flower’s role. Jeeves told you the truth about your implants being unavailable to her while you were in the sensory deprivation pods. And I want to apologize for sending the future version of Em to interrupt your proposal. I know this may sound outlandish, but it would negatively impact the trust Flower has in me if you visited Union Station and returned home engaged. She couldn’t help but feel that I stole the match from her.”

  “So you want me to propose again when we get back?” Bill asked.

  “I hate to impose, but if you delay for a week, at least until Flower reaches her next stop, she won’t feel like she’s splitting a prize with me. I run a matchmaking service on Union Station and it appears that she’s trying to emulate me. It happens sometimes in mentoring relationships.”

  “Then why did you put the ring in my pocket in the first place and have your version of Flower push me to propose?”

  “Jeeves contracted with the consortium to provide a realistic immersive experience of what the future might hold for the participants in fifty years. He subcontracted me to build the alternative reality for you, as it’s a bit beyond his scope, and I did my best to be accurate.”

  “You must have a lot of information,” Julie said.

  “Flower and I talk frequently,” Libby replied. “We gave her unlimited Stryxnet access for that purpose. But unlike artificial intelligence, your time isn’t unlimited, so I should return you to your friends.”

  “Just a second. How come you sound just like the teacherbot I had growing up?”

  The old lady’s eyes twinkled, and then the illusion faded and Julie found herself watching the lid rise from her sensory deprivation pod.

  “Did you guys stay to finish your milk or something?” Jorb asked as he helped her out of the pod.

  “It was strange,” Julie said. “I’m going to need time to think about everything that happened.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Jeeves told them. “That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought, so I’m going to get back to the office before a certain employee spends all of my money. Here’s your fee for participating,” he added, extending a pincer and dropping a one-hundred-cred coin in Julie’s hand.

  “How about mine?” Bill asked.

  “Check your pocket.” Bill did as he was told and his fingers closed on a small box. “An alternative payment from my parent that I’m assured is worth well over a hundred creds,” the young Stryx said. “Now if you’ll follow me to the lift tube, this deck is off-limits to biologicals without an escort. And don’t forget to check the Libbyland a
ttractions while you’re on Union Station. We’re running a discount in honor of MultiCon.”

  Twenty

  “…nine for Jorb, seven for Razood, and two for Brynlan,” Lume concluded. “Do any of you have any objections to the final count?”

  “Humans are too impatient,” complained the slow-spoken Verlock who had finished last in the competition to recruit new intelligence sources at the con. “Next time I’ll know to make my pitch in lift tube capsules where my targets can’t run off before I can get to offering them money.”

  “Why don’t you start with what it pays?”

  “We have very explicit rules on that subject,” Brynlan explained. “The Verlock Intelligence Service has been collecting data for millions of years, and our statisticians have determined that the sources who are offered a money-first pitch are more likely to invent facts in order to get paid.”

  Jorb slapped a coin on the table in front of the Vergallian agent whose cover job was her finishing school for teenage girls. “Here’s my twenty creds, Avisia, but if we do this again, you have to agree up front not to use your pheromones on men. It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

  “I’ll have you know I didn’t even consider moving to chemical warfare,” the impossibly beautiful Vergallian retorted. “I just stopped by the con wearing my Battle Royale costume for a few hours every evening and the young men lined up to pledge their loyalty to the Empire of a Hundred Worlds. And I didn’t have Flower sending me prospects like she did for Yaem.”

  “You know I was working around the clock on the con and Bill handled my recruiting effort,” the Sharf protested. “It’s going to take me another week to catch up on my sleep.”

  “M793qK ran a close second with a Human doing all of his recruiting,” Lume commented as he paid the Vergallian. “Dave really knows how to close a deal.”