For a Good Time Call.... Donald Ph.D. Ladew

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СКАЧАТЬ to be sure, William. We are very much as you say, for real. I hope you don't have any problem with xenophobia. I have not noticed any such aberration in your personality profile."

      "I know what that means. Well, Jesus, I don't know. I've never thought about it. If you've read our more creative literature on the subject, you probably know we've created all sorts of bug-eyed monsters, living out there." He had to laugh. "I mean out here."

      "William, I have a news crash for you. Of the races which have produced literature as you know it, that is, fiction, every one of them has stories of “bug-eyes monsters”, living “out there”. I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that some of the races I have contacted would consider you the bug-eyed monster."

      That made sense. "May I ask you something personal?"

      Carson nodded agreeably.

      "Am I seeing you as you really are, or are you some sort of projection?" Might as well satisfy that question while we're on the subject, William thought.

      Mr. Carson's bushy eyebrows went up at least an inch. "You are perceptive, William. The answer to your question is no, this is not my true body shape. Your next question, prompted by an innate curiosity peculiar to your race is, what in fact do I look like?" He grinned mischievously. "Are you sure you won't be shocked or disgusted?"

      "I don't know, Mr. Carson, I hope not," he told him.

      Carson passed his hands over a control panel. There was a shimmering where he sat, and then he reappeared, not disgusting at all. He looked a lot like an over-weight badger with a few notable exceptions. His teeth looked human, and his deep brown eyes were circular and luminous. His forefeet weren't paws at all. He had well developed hands with long, flexible fingers, and a really long tail. It must have been three feet at least. He was scratching a large furry ear vigorously with his tail. The whole thing struck William as impossibly funny.

      "Well, I see you are not frightened or disgusted. However, I did not think I was quite so laughable." He sounded grumpy.

      "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, this is quite a shock to me. I'm wondering what Miss Annie-Brown looks like." He suddenly felt sad at the prospect of her being another little badger or worse.

      "Ahhh...then you would be quite surprised. She is in fact entirely humanoid although a bit taller than she appeared to you on Earth."

      "I thought something was strange when I first saw her. Taller, wouldn't you know it," he muttered. "So, where to from here, Mr. Carson?"

      Carson ignored the question. "Are you interested in employment, William?"

      Time to fish or cut bait. "Yeah, I guess I am, Mr. Carson." I sure as hell ain't going anywhere back on old Earth. Can you give me an example of one of your employee-client deals; like how it worked out?" William asked.

      "I understand, William. Indeed I can." His long tail lashed around randomly, then ended back at the tufted ear scratching vigorously.

      "I recently had a request from a race of insectoids many parsecs east of here. They are a successful monarchy. For the past two thousand years they have been following a planned selective breeding program. The purpose of the program was to produce a superior being who would eventually become their queen.

      "These people, the Aridnii, have been in conflict with a race of arachnids for the last thousand years. During a battle between the two groups, the breeding area was overrun and the undeveloped pupa—their queen to be—was stolen by the arachnid warriors. The insectoids were unable to rescue their precious offspring, though many attempts were made. They didn't succeed because the arachnids could predict exactly how they would attack. A thousand years of warfare had taught each race all there was to know about the other.

      "As time passed, the loss of the special offspring was sapping the Aridnii's will to fight, even to survive. They were on the verge of succumbing, not as individuals, but as an entire race. That was when my company was contacted. My staff and I spent many time cycles studying the situation.

      "It was peculiar. Even though the insectoid race was going under, the arachnids were not attacking. This was odd, after all it looked like the logical time for them to mount an all-out attack. Many opportunities for mentally devastating psychological tactics existed. Yet they were doing none of these things. They were in fact amazingly quiescent.

      "Can you guess what the problem was, Mr. Holt-Fennimore?"

      William spouted out the first thing that came to his mind. "Well, sure, Mr. Carson. No game. No game equals no survival."

      Mr. Carson sat up in his chair with a start. "Whauugg!" Then he rattled off something in a strange language. "And you said you had nothing to offer. You have stated, in a few seconds, a problem which took us months of your time to understand. Then it took more time to work out a solution."

      It seemed simple enough to William. "So how did you teach the arachnids the concept of game and no-game?" he asked.

      Mr. Carson laughed happily. "Ahhh..William, I'm going to enjoy finding a place for you. Indeed, how did we solve the problem? We found a philosopher who was bored." He chuckled cheerfully.

      "He was from a university planet where he'd been teaching dull juveniles the basics of logic and various philosophical concepts for many years. He was literally dying of boredom. What he wanted, what he needed, was a way to put some of his vast learning into practice. He needed to see the application of his theories create effects in a real environment. He was beginning to doubt the reality, the worth of his own existence.

      "I arranged for him to be attached to a group of itinerant entertainers, which we then put into the area under arachnid control. They planned to perform for the ruler of the arachnid forces. Our research indicated that the leader of this force loved games, particularly games involving numbers.

      "Our man taught the ruler all the games he knew. In the process he saw to it the ruler never lost, won easily every time. At first the ruler thought this was fine. Then he became resentful.

      "Our man was very calm during all this and asked him what was wrong. Of course, the ruler thought it was no fun winning all the time." Mr. Carson paused to give his ear a particularly energetic tug.

      "The philosopher maneuvered the ruler into a discussion of the nature of games, and during their many talks the ruler realized that in taking the insectoid's queen, he had created a no-game condition which threatened the survival, not only of the insectoids, but also his own race. Instinctively, he and his own people knew this, which explained why, since the capture, the arachnids had made no overt moves against the other race. The philosopher and the ruler worked out a way by which our man would secure the pupa and return it to the insectoids. The ruler made it appear as though it was accomplished by a clandestine raid, about which he and his people knew nothing, with the philosopher acting as intermediary.

      "So you see, William, client and employee both got something they wanted and needed. The philosopher was revitalized. He had an example of his philosophy in action to back up the workability of the theories he taught. The insectoids got their pupa back, and a future—a game—was restored. Our last report from the area was that the two races are fighting again, happily strengthening the survival characteristics of their breeding males, insuring the survival of each race."

      "That's a hell of a story, Mr. Carson, but I can't believe things always work out so well for all your clients and employees."

      "Of СКАЧАТЬ