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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 112: Cooper 36
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Brown 322
Tommy did make it to the barbecue place, and Brian settled her at one of the outside picnic tables, helping her out of her backpack before rushing off and coming back with a pitcher of cider and two large ceramic mugs. He poured her a drink.
“Drink up,” he said, as he took a sip from his own mug. “I’ll go order food.”
He remembered to ask for napkins as he ordered a whole rack of ribs with two plates, two ears of corn, and because these would take more than a couple minutes he brought chips and salsa back to the table. “Food will be back in a minute,” he said. “Meanwhile, start with this.”
She picked up a chip and scooped up some of the spicy vegetable mix. Her face contorted slightly when she tasted it, which he guessed was the peppers, but she ate it and had another before the food arrived. He broke two hunks off the rack and gave one to each of them. “Eat as much as you like,” he said. She seemed to attack it slowly, cautiously, as someone who knew better than to eat too much too fast when hungry.
She started the conversation.
“So, apart from the--the obvious,” she began, “what do you do?”
“It’s kind of silly, really. The moment I arrived, my predecessor in this position was dying, and gave me this sword. I’d never used a sword; but I met a couple other people in the same business, and one of them arranged for me to take lessons from a supervillain who is a swordsman of some skill but is in prison. He also--my predecessor--gave me some money, along with a few other tools of the trade, and I’ve been living on that; but it’s not going to last forever. So I haven’t figured out that part yet.”
She nodded, so he decided it was his turn. “That small case--that looks like a laptop?”
“Tablet,” she answered. “I don’t know how different that makes it, but it’s not as big. I did have it upgraded in one world, but then didn’t get all that much use from it. What year is this?”
“I haven’t actually asked anyone,” he said. “It’s the kind of question that gets you strange looks, but it’s probably around 1955. America is still fighting in Korea, Eisenhower is President, and gasoline is cheap.”
“So they don’t have computers or the internet yet.”
He stared at her, flabbergasted. Why had he not thought of that?
“They don’t. But they’re working on them. I.B.M. will have the first commercial line of computers for business on the market in 1964, and already there are systems that sort punch cards and do simple calculations, thanks to the work of Alan Turing. But Bletchley is still classified.”
This was an interesting possibility. There was probably someone working on early computers around here somewhere. Tell would probably know; he had his hand in a lot of business interests. He could get a day job in something he knew. Of course, anything he knew that was going to be useful now was in a sense the history of computing--but he had learned ascii and could probably remember enough of it to work in the industry.
“I think you might just have pointed me in the right direction. I can’t really show them my laptop, or your tablet, either--”
“Or my cell phone,” she inserted.
“Right. Or mine. But maybe I can get a job.”
“And maybe,” she suggested, “you might get me a paid internship.”
“Yeah, I guess I owe you that. More corn?” he asked.
She sort of waved him away on that, as her mouth was busy on the ribs.
He waited until she began slowing down. Patience. He began his questions. First section was on her home world. He found that both were pretty similar. After that, he spent seven more questions on what worlds she had visited. When she asked him questions back, he freely answered, explaining about William Tell and Hans and the miraculous apple shot. She had been to Naga World as he had, but otherwise she had more worlds under her belt than he. These questions gave birth to other questions in his mind, but he stored them for later. Noting that she had mentioned Jesus, he asked her about her religious life, and was pleased to find a fellow Christian, indeed a Presbyterian even if not a rigorous Calvinist. Other questions, stuff that led to him understanding the situation better, and to satisfy his deep curiosity spewed forth. Finally, he reigned himself in, as her eyes began to show fatigue over the spicy apple pie à la mode desert. Still, he had gotten forty-some questions off before she faded so he was quite pleased. There was so much to learn.
She leaned back and out came a delicate burp which caused her to blush. He smiled at her for that.
“I think the thing to do is for me to get you a cabin at the Paris Motel for a week, and some money for food and new clothes. By then you should have a job.” Brian suggested.
She assured him she would pay him back, which was not much of a concern to him, and confessed that she felt dirty and would greatly welcome a hot shower and clean clothes. He took her to the Paris Motel after a quick stop at Lance’s Gold Emporium, and got her Cabin 6, next to his, and left her with some money. That done, he decided to nap off his very full stomach, and call Tell later.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
