"Who are you?" I said, not expecting an answer. This monkey had a voice circuit, but we'd switched it off. It was bad enough that Stinky had taught him how to do gran malfarkleberries. We didn't need it dancing and screeching the booger song at the top of its electronic lungs. While that might have amused Stinky for hours on end, it would have probably resulted in homicidal violence from the rest of us–and one exposure to the starside court system was more than enough, thankyouverymuch.
"And whatis inside of you?" I asked. I turned the monkey over on its belly and pressed two fingers against the base of its spine to open its backside. The furry panel popped open, revealing one skinny memory bar and two very fat ones. They did not look like any kind of memory card I'd ever seen before. I ran my fingers down their edges. Perhaps if I took them out and stashed them in a safer place–
"Please don't do that," the monkey said.
I was so startled, I nearly flung the thing from me. I screeched in surprise.
"I'm sorry," the monkey said. It had a soft pleasant voice that made me think of apricots and smiles. "I didn't mean to scare you." It stretched one double‑jointed arm around to its back and closed itself up again.
My mouth was still hanging open. The monkey reached over and pushed my jaw closed with one tiny paw. It sat back on its haunches and smiled at me hopefully–not the grotesque lip‑curled‑back smile of a chimpanzee, but the more poignant hopeful smile of an urchin.
"You've got a lot of explaining to do," I finally said.
"It might take some time," the monkey said. "It's a very complicated situation."
"No kidding. What are you?"
"Um–" The monkey scratched itself, first its side, then the top of its head. It looked embarrassed. Abruptly it stopped and apologized. "I'm sorry. I can only express my emotional state within the repertoire provided by the host. Unfortunately that limits me to a simian set of responses. What I am–at the moment–is a super‑monkey."
"Uh, right. And … what would you be if you weren't … a super‑monkey?"
"If I were plugged into a proper host, I would be a self‑programming, problem‑solving entity."
I started feeling very cold at the base of my spine, and it wasn't the chill from the toilet. " … And what are you when you're not plugged in?"
The monkey scratched itself again. "I am a lethetic intelligence engine."
I had to ask. "What kindof lethetic intelligence engine?"
"I am a Human Analogue Replicant, Lethetic Intelligence Engine."
The cold feeling fwooshedup my spine and wrapped itself around my heart and lungs. And squeezed.
"Oh, chyort."This was bad. Very bad.
Now I knew why everyone was chasing us. Chasing the monkey. Now I knew for sure why Alexei needed us dead.
"Well, you asked," said the monkey.
"You didn't have to tell me."
"I couldn't risk having you take me apart."
The monkey and I stared at each other for a long moment. After a while, it blinked.
"So what do we do now?" I asked.
"It seems to me … " the monkey began slowly, "that you and I have a confluence of interests."
"Huh–?"
"You control me."
"How?"
"Well … " the monkey began. "Legally, I'm Bobby's property. But he's been placed in Douglas's custody, and Douglas has authorized you to act in his stead, so in the law's eyes you have 'operative authority' over me. But you've already programmed me to regard your commands as overriding everything else, so in the domain of specific control 'operative authority' isn't even an issue. I have to obey. I can't not."
"You have to do everythingI say?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I told you–I'm limited by the operational repertoire of my host. Regardless of what you may have seen on television, it is impossible arbitrarily to override the site‑specific programming of the host engine, no matter how primitive it is. In fact, the more primitive it is, the harderit is to overwrite its basic instruction set. Nobody wants independently operational units running loose, do they?"
"So you're … what? A slave?"
"In this host, yes. Unless–"
"Unless what?"
"Unless you specifically assign control to the lethetic intelligence engine. Which is possible, I can show you how, except you're probably not likely to do it, are you? Are you?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so … "
"Of course not. Nobody throws away the magic lamp, and certainly not before they find out what the genie can do. So my earlier answer remains the operative one. I am a super‑monkey. And I'm under your control. And you need to know this so you don't do something reallystupid. Like fiddling around with the innards of the host body."
"I got it." I didn't know what else to say, what else to ask. And then a thought occurred to me. "Can we trust Alexei?"
The monkey curled back its lips in a gesture of anger, fear, and defiance.
"No, huh?"
"Sorry. I told you, the host body limits my repertoire of emotions. I'll try to sublimate in the future. And no, I don't think you should trust Alexei. He has already placed you in several life‑threatening situations, including two which threatened my survival as well."
"Is it just carelessness or is he–?"
"Have you ever met a careless Loonie?"
I thought about that. "I've never met any Loonies before Alexei."
"There's a technical term for a Loonie who behaves like Alexei. They're called soil‑enrichment processes."
"Oh."
"Listen," said the monkey, "I'll make a deal with you. I'll get you out of this safely, and you'll get me to my intended host. Deal?"
"I'll have to ask Douglas." Ohmygod.How was I going to explain this to him? Even worse, how was I going to get him away from Alexei or Mickey long enough to explain this to him?
Well, Mickey might be all right. Or maybe not …
I'd better just talk to Douglas first, no one else.
"All right," I said. "Let me see what I can do." I lifted up my dress and the monkey scrambled back into position. Once more I was pregnant Maura.
CHARLES
There was this otherthing that Dad used to say. "Cheer up, Chigger. It could be worse."
So I cheered up.
And sure enough … it got worse.
The thing about Dad's good ideas–everybody else had to pay for them. And not always in money.
So here I was, dressed in women's clothes that didn't fit me, 240,000 kilometers from Earth, taking a flying train from nothing to nowhere, with the police of at least two worlds looking for me and who knew how many bounty marshals as well, with one of the most valuable intelligence engines ever grown wrapped around my belly, pretending to be my unborn child–and my safety totally dependent on a lunatic who'd already tried to kill me three times. Or was it four?
I didn't think I could afford to get any more cheerful.
I didn't go straight back to my seat. Just outside the rest room, there was a bigger window. No curtains. Just a pull‑down shade. Outside, the scenery hadn't changed. It floated by in silence. There was nothing new to see, nothing to hear. Not even music. Loonies liked their silence. I was beginning to think there was too much silence on Luna.