The other rooms in the suite were just as different. I had a bedroom, as did Ralph. There was a living/dining/kitchen area. Daniel would be beside himself if he saw the kitchen and all the room to work. I took a few pics on my holocom to show him and make him green with envy next time I saw him. There was an enormous bathroom. I didn't understand why it was so big. The toilet sat at one end, in the middle of a tiled wall, all by itself. There was a sink on the far wall with a mirror, and on the opposite wall there was a shower. I could probably fit two rooms from Condor One in the empty space in that bathroom.
"People like space," Ralph told me, laughing.
To me it just felt like I was hanging out in space itself when I was doing my business. It echoed in there. Echoed. It was big enough to echo. You could easily fit twenty people inside. Was that why it was so big? Did people want to fit twenty people in the bathroom at a time? It was creepy.
And then we had another conditioning room. "Home gym," corrected the Charles bot. It had all the equipment the conditioning room had, it was just more...homey, I suppose. Instead of looking like an extension of a hospital ward, it was all different colors, with fancy panels instead of the clinical equipment we'd been using. Home versions. And in the center where all the machines pointed was a large plasma monitor.
"TV," corrected Ralph. "Like I've been saying."
"But it's not a television."
Ralph sighed. "Technically no. But I call bandages band-aids even though they aren't. People are used to televisions. Had them for three hundred years. It doesn't matter that it's actually a plasma display monitor that works on completely different tech. They know it as a tv, they call it a tv, and they always will."
"But tvs couldn't do holo displays."
Ralph gave me that look. I shut up. He flicked on a show and I spent the time waiting for the team watching...something. I don't even know what. There was artificial laughter, so it was one of the comedies Ralph likes. He laughed. But I didn't get the jokes.
"He's pink," I pointed out.
"Tats."
"What?"
"Tattoos. It's all the rage. Didn't you notice in those zines Lena had you look at?"
I had. But pink? "He looks ridiculous."
"To you. To me. Sure. But that's because we're not used to it. All of them have something like that, though."
Horror! "No way are they doing that to me!"
Ralph laughed. "Calm down. I'm sure they wouldn't dream of it. I do kind of like that blue streaky look he's got, though..." Ralph rubbed his chin. I can't picture Ralph with blue streaks across his eyes and forehead.
"Why do they even do that?"
"Same reason Qitanis implant jewels across their collar bones and cheeks. They think it's beautiful."
Something to think about.
"The knock at the door", as Ralph said, even though it's a chime and not any kind of knock, made us get up. I suddenly felt nervous and didn't know why. The bot Charles strode in, followed by five people. Or bots. I'm still on the fence about a couple of them. We were introduced quickly and they started their jabbering even quicker. We'll start with what I caught and then try and catch up from there.
Christophe Venderi almost pushed Charles out of the way, so obviously he grabbed my attention first. We were told that he's the official press secretary to Reginald. I took that to mean that he's in charge of everything that they say to every other body outside StarTech. The most important thing to know about Christophe Venderi is that he's perfect. There is never a wrinkle on his clothes, a wave in his hair, a freckle on his cheeks. He looked so perfect, in fact, that I was sure he was a bot until he shook my hand. They can make some convincing bots, but no one has been able to simulate the feeling of a real hand. He's real. I don't know where they found him, but he's real. He speaks perfectly, too. He sounds like a human HuTA. And he stands out in my mind for this, for being so perfect, and for the first thing he said to me. About me, actually. I don't think he spoke to me directly the whole time. He said to Ralph, "I've never questioned Reginald's lead before, but putting so much on the shoulders of a recluse kid? Oh well. We shall just have to make the best of it, won't we?"
Yeah. Nice guy, this Mr. Perfect.
Jillian was much more interested in me. She hovered like the caa flies of Laak'sa. "Look at him! Thank God he got his mother's cheek bones. He's pale...maybe purple? Whatsa matta, kid? Don't like the tats? Fine. Wholesome's a better sell anyway. Dear god, Chris, we've got to get him a better wardrobe. I'll get on the com to Honree himself and special order..."
"No, not Honree," Christophe butt in. "Keep him humble. StarTech."
Jillian looked at Christophe and for a minute I thought there would be a fight. But it was clear who ran the show. "You're right. Something new, though. New designation."
"Quite," concurred Christophe, before ignoring me again and talking with Ralph.
Jillian measured and poked and said stupid things until I wished she'd go away. And then she did, and I was sorry I wished it because Karl Dresche took her place. And his pokes and prods were not silly or friendly. He was a bot. I was almost sure of it. I would have been positive, in fact, if I didn't know Mother. That's it! He's the male version of Mother!
"You have been working, but not enough. I read your medicals. Children in space." He shook his head, and I felt very defensive.
"What's wrong with children in space?"
He launched into a rant like Mother, about my heart rhythms and brain waves and oxygenation and hydrolization and calcification and transmogrification and on and on until my head spun. He worked himself up good, too. By the time he had my chart open on his VitalCheck he was gesturing wildly and almost frothing at the mouth. I knew what to do. I was raised by Mother, after all. He needed to vent it out. I waited. I wiped off the spittle from my cheek. And when he was blue and had to, had to pause for a breath, I asked him why he was taking it out on me. That stopped him. I knew it would...logic always stopped Mother.
He fixed his hair. "Yes. Yes, you are right. I can't blame the hapless result of the folly of others, can I?" I couldn't really be offended, since I pretty much expected that result. He straightened himself and tapped his VitalCheck. "New regimen, starting tomorrow. We'll begin each day with a stat check, a series of mental exercises, and then a physical run down of all the vital organs." I groaned, and he gave a laugh. I think it was a laugh. It was a small noise that was not filled with contempt, so I assume laugh. "You groan now, but you will realize I'm on your side. You think this is bad? If I don't do all of this and appease the governments, they will put their own people on the task. And they aren't nearly as friendly as I am."
Fortunately he turned his attentions to Ralph. The next was the doppel-bot of Justin Bradley. We went into it knowing he was a bot, but I'll admit he's a very good one. His voice was smooth with no hitches. He introduced himself to me with a slight bow, something Ralph told me later was creepy because it was so exactly Justin that it gave him the willies.
"Young man, it is a pleasure to meet you. A pleasure indeed! Eunice's son, in the flesh. We had wondered, hoped at times. And didn't she just find a way? Yes. Yes." He smiled and nodded. His eyes. If you look close enough you can see the mechanics in his eyes. Ralph's right. It's unnerving, and I never knew the actual Justin Bradley.
"To a tee!" Ralph said later, drinking something he called "hooch" and almost shaking on the couch. "Lance is never going to believe this."
"I wanted to meet you," the Bradley bot said. "I hope we shall interact later. I'd love to interview you on the validation some latest theories."
I told him I wasn't up on theoretical physics. He refused to believe me. I am, after all, Eunice's son. He left, and I can't say I missed him at all.