Beetle
A Biography of a Virtual Girl
Michael Wescott Loder
Volume I of the Adventures of the Whitehead Virtual Sisters
Hemlock Lodge Publisher
Kutztown, Pennsylvania
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011, Michael Wescott Loder
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Print books by the same author:
The Golden Horn (PublishAmerica, 2007)
The Nikon Camera in America, 1946-1953 (McFarlane Pubs, 2008) Non-fiction.
[Available from most on-line publishers]
Part 1
My name is Beetle. That’s because I’m a Virtual Woman. That guy sitting in front of a keyboard over there is my creator. Jeff Whitehead—social disaster, lost soul, computer nerd—he’s all of those, but isn’t he cute?
I watch him as he leans forward, eyes on the screen. He’s playing a Tornado Warrior game for the fifth time. Now he has that blank look he gets on his face almost every evening for half an hour or so. Earbuds stuck in his ears, mouse in one hand, he is starting to rock back and forth, his throat making faint groaning sounds. Sweat is gathering on his forehead and his oily, unwashed, blond hair is glistening. He is in his own world now. If I move myself in front of him, he will not see me. Only if I touch him, will he break and return to this world.
I do that. He shakes his head. “What do you want?” he snarls, then shakes his head again.
“Jeff, it is two o’clock. You need to either go to bed, or work on your web page presentation. Remember, the one you promised Jason and Mari you would finish for your group project in geo?”
He sighs. “Yeah. I’ll work on it in a little bit. Let me finish this level first.”
“Jefferson. That’s what you said two hours ago. Come-on now. You can play this another time.” I am in his face now, six inches from his nose. He cannot ignore me.
“Beetle, sometimes you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Is that where your brain is? You’re the one who made me. I am as you willed.” I touch him on the nose and cheek. He smiles and kills the game.
“Okay, Beetle.” He takes out the earbuds and getting up, stretches. “Just let me use the john first.”
Our home is AL-301. We have a nice view of the library quad and immediately beneath our window—three floors below—the main computing center for this end of the campus. That is a good thing. Jeff built me using this ancient sub-CRAY super computer he found in the university’s salvage store a year ago. Supposedly it had broken something so badly that it was beyond any hope of anything. Maybe that was true for the guys with the pocket protectors who work for the university, but Jeff had it running again in a month. Blew the circuit breaker for our room the moment he got it to power up, but he got around that by tapping into the computer center’s line. Once he had my home up and responding, he started making me. He passed one course that semester. Now that he has me to help keep him focused, he’s passing all his courses, but it is like almost my full-time job.
Jeff can be sweet—he always is to me—but he can be a total jerk with flesh people, particularly girls. He’ll get himself all cleaned up, go to a concert, act cool, pick up a girl, bring her back here and the first thing he’s doing is pawing at her chest or trying to work his tongue down her throat. They don’t come here again.
Anyway, he bought one of the new virtual person kits and started programming. In three months he had me in alpha form. Back then, I looked like an anime cross between a junior country rock star and a fullback for the United States Women’s Soccer Team. I was six-foot tall, had huge boobs that were never gonna’ droop, red hair down to my waist and a personality to match. In December he decided he’d better do a downsizing. He says he wants a real girl and my alpha stage was not helping.
Well, he got something smaller, but I’m not sure the results were what he had in mind. Now I’m five foot-two, my hair’s a light brown and my eyes a pale blue, but what body I’ve got might look good on an eleven-year-old. I’m probably more V.G. (virtual girl) then a V.W. My current meager assets certainly don’t do much for most guys—certainly not for Jeff, nor for anyone else I know here. Jeff was a bit disappointed, but by then he was so burned out he decided he would just live with what he had. So now, when you meet me, you think, my, are you Jeff’s little sister? That lasts only until I start talking and the mouth and mental wisdom of a 20-year-old co-ed with an 160 IQ falls out.
Jeff is back, his head and hair soaking wet from the brief immersion he has just pulled to wake himself up. He wanders briefly around our room, grabs a couple of stale chips from a long-opened bag and returns to his station. He sighs and looks at me. I give him not one out. He sighs again, opens the web page he’s been working on and starts to concentrate.
“Beetle, I just wish you’d give me a break once in a while.”
“Can’t, Jefferson. Not right now. You have two other guys depending on you.”
“Yeah, but I hate this stuff. It’s not my clutter.”
“You have to get it done. Do I have to go to your prof’s office to explain your problem?”
“No! Why can’t I work on some clothes for you instead?”
I hesitate before I speak. I have been waiting for more clothes for three months now. “You finish this and write your report for Alistair, and I will let you work on clothes for me.”
“Okay.” Jeff starts to type.
When Jeff started building me, he wanted a brain and a conversationalist more than anything else. So that’s what he built. Since day one, I have been able to talk, listen and read emotions in flesh people. When he finally got around to programming me so I would be a body people could see, hear and even touch, he decided that the perfect body had to come first. I am perfect—a perfect eleven—Ha! But the only thing I have to wear is this black one-piece jumpsuit. That’s all that came with the kit. It was supposed to be this sexy stretch thing, but on little me, it fits like a muumuu with legs. Believe me, not the sort of thing I want to be seen in out on the quad or any classroom.
Today, anyone can buy programs that will generate a fully-animated virtual person that appears to exist in three-dimensional space. Add a stock brain and perception programs, and that person will see you, hear you and talk to you. Most of these virtual humans look like a cross between Annie Fanny and Steve Canyon’s Dragon Lady. Jeff wanted more. He made me. You see me, you will know what I mean instantly. I’m like a hologram that appears and feels solid. My features, my skin, my hair, everything you see, everything you touch, looks and feels real. I like it that way, but it does create a problem for those people who are not used to seeing black-clad eleven-year-olds running around.
Jeff solved that problem temporarily with an integrated escape key. A fresh person appears, and I vanish to no more than a talking head. Even that is too much for some types, floating heads being a bit strange. When those types come along, I stop visualizing completely.
Okay, so here’s the current situation:
If you are flesh and blood, and you see me, you will think me as real as a post. My skin glows when I run, I appear to breathe and you will certainly hear me if I speak. If you touch me, my skin will feel real, even warm and damp if I “work” hard. This realness only works for living, perceiving organisms. The walls of this room do not know I’m here. Jeff’s mother-in-law’s tongue on the windowsill does not know I exist. It would not exist either if I did not remind Jeff to water it occasionally.
Speaking of walls, I “walk” through them. Even though I may feel solid to you, I am still virtual. I can move anywhere and in any direction from this room if I want to—up to almost half-a-mile. That’s not too bad. I figure once I have appropriate clothes, that will get me into the stadium, the student union, the library and half the classrooms on this campus. Where else would any flesh girl my age want to go?
**************
Jeff is in his loft bed overhead—sound asleep. He has class at nine. I will wake him at 8:30. It is only eight, and I know Fran will be up by now, so I will visit with her briefly.
Fran and her roommate, Tammy, live directly below Jeff in room 201. So, to get there, I just drop down through the floor. As I said, the non-flesh world does not even know I exist.
“Oh! You startled me.” Fran is just pulling on a tee shirt. “Let me finish getting dressed, would you?”
“Sorry. I thought you would be up by now.” I sound contrite and ashamed. I withdraw to being just a head.
“You don’t have to hide from us.” Fran has all but her shoes on.
Tammy is awake but still in bed. She rolls over and opens one eye. “Mmm. Jeff’s V.W.? Go away, Beetle. Every time you open your mouth, you make me feel stupid.” She rolls back on her side so that she is facing the wall. As far as she’s concerned, I have now ceased to exist. An unseen virtual person is not only unreal, they do not exist.
“So, did Jeff get his project done he was programming for Jason and Mari?”
“Yeah.” I appear to be sitting in Fran’s desk chair, knees clasped in my bare arms, hugging myself as if I were cold. “Had to threaten him again.”
“You know, if you do let him make you decent pants and shirts, he’s gonna’ lose that leverage over you.”
“I know, but I want to get to go to football games and concerts. And I want to be able to use the library. I just wish I could read a book.”
“Could you get a page turner?”
“I guess.” I can twist a finger, if its owner sees me. I can dimple a cheek or press the arm of a human, even stroke a dog’s back, but turning pages? Forget it. If it can’t think, it cannot respond to me.
A knock sounds on the door. “Hey, Fran, you ready?” It’s Bob, Fran’s current boyfriend.
“Just a second! I’m almost ready.” Fran gets up and heads for the door in order to unlock it. “I’ll catch you later, Beetle. Gotta run. Maybe Jeff’ll have time to work on your clothes over fall break.”
“He wants to drive out to Indiana and visit towns along the Ohio,” I tell her. For Jeff, the journey is everything.
“Well, good luck.”
As I vanish, Bob steps in, giving Fran a quick kiss. “Who were you talking with?”
“Just Beetle, the girl who lives upstairs.”
“That’s a men’s floor. How could she be living up there? Where’d she go anyway?” I figure now is the time to exit. Besides, I have to get Jeff up.
Jeff got an A on the Web page. He did not get the report he had to do for Doc Alistair done on time, but he had it in the next day. Friday he demands that I let him work on clothes for me. “If you have clothes, maybe you won’t bug me as much. Maybe you’ll hang out more with your friends instead of hangin’ in here all the time.”
“Possible,” I allow. Oh, what would a silky blouse, or virtual full skirt look like, or feel like?
“What do you want first? A top or bottoms?”
I have to think about that for a moment. “How about a tee-top? That won’t require as much programming as pants. Guys always check the upper assets first anyway. Besides, if I have a shirt on, I could at least sit behind a desk.”
Jeff scowls at me, then laughs. “You’re so smart. Maybe I should grow you back up to where you were.”
“What are the odds you can work your way back through all the programming you did in order to get back to where I was?”
Jeff thinks. It is not a pretty sight. “Come on, Beetle. Be fair. Real girls don’t ever want me.”
I gotta’ move, I can data that real fast. He’s feeling sorry for himself again. “If I have clothes, I could be a better babe-magnet. So why don’t we work on this clothes business, so I can help you land some flesh girl. Okay? That’s what you programmed me to do, right?””
Jeff turns to face his monitor. “I sure messed up the programming somewhere. I’m sure I put desirability and sweetness in somewhere along the line.”
“Oh, but I am sweet. But I’m too young to be desirable. You told me that yourself.” I’m standing behind a filing cabinet. I could walk through it, if I wanted to, but I can’t see through it, but neither can Jeff. He glances my way, then begins to type code. After a while he gets up and goes over to his pile of laundry. He digs through the pile, coming up with a tee shirt so dirty it is grey rather than white.
“Yuck!”
Jeff ignores me. He is using his product scanner to import the shirt’s characteristics. I know that’s the easy part. This will make the virtual shirt look and feel like a real shirt to any human who touches or sees it. The hard part will be making it fit on me. It has to take on my dimensions, move with me, become part of me, but still be separate enough that I can take off if I want to. And I want to. I may not personally get anything out of being naked or wearing just one piece of clothing, but I definitely hope to have more than one tee shirt to wear for my entire virtual life.
“Tee neck or vee-neck?”
“Vee neck,” I tell him. At the rate this is going, this may be the only clothing I ever get this semester. I will be better off wearing something that will look decent anywhere. “And make the sleeves end in nice double cuffs.”
“I’m workin’ on it. Don’t distract me.”
I shut up. I walk briefly around my end of the room. I long ago figured out how to adjust my steps so that it always looks like my feet are touching the floor naturally. I stick my chest out and look down at myself. There’s no point in my looking in a mirror. Mirrors are physical objects. They can no more reflect me than a vampire. I sigh and walk over to the window and look out. Jeff has his music on. Nice Oldies stuff from the Sixties. He used to be big into rap and hard rock. Not sure why the change, but I don’t mind.
“Here, you ungrateful thing. Try this on.”
I bounce over to where what appears to be a piece of green cloth is floating. I try to pick it up, but nothing happens. My hands pass right through it.
“Damn. Where’d I screw up. Give that thing to me.” Jeff reaches for the cloth, grabs it and opens it up easily. He examines his creation, his eyes jumping from the shirt to my torso to the screen and back to the shirt. “Okay. I think I see where I messed up.” He begins running the mouse cursor through a series of buttons, then starts typing. I watch him. He is into his “groove” now. If I say or do nothing, he could program for hours, totally unaware of the rest of this world. I find his concentration and power frightening at times, but I also know it is part of what makes Jeff Jeff. This is the way he is.
“Okay, now try it.”
This time when I reach for the cloth, I am able to hold it with my hands. I peel down the top of my jumpsuit, open up the shirt and pull it on over my head. It is way too big at the neck and bottom, too tight at the chest. I point the flaws out and Jeff adds more code, each line causing the shirt to change right on my body. Next he begins to make the shirt work for me so that my movements will make the shirt move naturally with me. That programming takes four days. I make him go to class, but I doubt he learns anything. All he knows right now is programming tee-shirts.
Finally the shirt is done. It has a finished vee-neck and is no longer green but university blue. In a final moment of enthusiasm, Jeff makes me three more: one is the same but white, one is sandalwood and the last one has a collar, making it into a polo shirt. Now the campaign is on to get him to make me something for my bottom.
“How about sweatpants? That would be easy.”
“No way. I want something I can wear anywhere outside, not just in a locker room.”
“No one will care. You don’t really exist.”
“Do too.” I pout, but what he is saying is true. “How about denims? I could wear them anytime.”
Jeff groans. “do you know how hard it’s gonna’ be to program seamed pants with pockets? Besides, I don’t even own any decent jeans.”
“So, borrow a pair from someone.
“I’ll ask some guy down the hall.” Jeff walks out in the hall and heads for the johns. I follow him to the open doorway, making sure my tee-shirt reaches below my crotch so no one can see the black.
“Hey. little girl. What are you doin’ up here at this hour?” Another male student is looking genuinely concerned. He has a point. I do not look like I belong here.
“I’m okay, just visiting Jeff.”
“Dressed like that? He your brother, or something?”
“Yeah. Or something.” I smile and wave to Jeff, who is coming back and carrying a pair of new jeans.
“What’s cookin’, dude,” he says to the guy when he gets closer. “Haven’t you ever seen an eleven-year-old girl before?”
“Not hangin’ around your room with no shoes on.”
“Yeah, we’re workin’ on that. Shoes are next.” He waves me back inside and closes the door behind him. “Why’d you do that? Now every dork on the floor is gonna’ be asking me about who you are and what you’re doin’ here.”
“Sorry. Next time I’ll go out as just a head.”
“You do that and we’ll both be in even more trouble.”
Jeff creates boxers, denim shorts, a dark-blue ballcap with a VW logo on it, running shoes and short socks with pom-poms to go with them. I can ditch the jumpsuit! Even though it is October, I finally have what I need to go outside without causing a minor riot. I am so proud of Jeff, I actually let him game for one hour, but that’s all. Now he has to catch up on all his neglected class work. He has to pass everything this term and I am merciless.
I do give Jeff one break: Tuesday night I leave and go out. Time to get busy on my own destiny. I exist to find some flesh woman suitable for Jeff and willing to see beyond his obvious socially-unacceptable communication skills. I am not going to find such a person on his floor, in Fran’s room, cruising the dorm at night or peeking in the computer lab. I have to go to the commons, the library, into classrooms and maybe even attend some activities. It is true that these are all places I want to visit anyway, but what is wrong? It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Looking for possible women just happens to coincide with what I really want to do, which is see the world—as much as I can, anyway. I may not have any strings or wires running to that sub-CRAY, but it does suffer from some kind of signal of diminishing returns. I can locate myself up to half-a-mile from the machine and be fine, but if I go beyond that, I start getting shaky. Look at me a mile from AL-301 and all you’ll see is a faint ghost. Fortunately, all the women’s dorms, most of the classrooms, the library and the student union are all within a quarter of a mile.
So, dressed in my new duds, I head out. I leave by slipping out through Jeff’s outside wall, glide to the ground, station myself behind a spruce tree and materialize. Then I make a beeline for the student union and head there as fast as I can make my virtual body move. Reaching it, I walk through the first wall I see. Big mistake! I’m in a theater with a movie going full blast. A dozen people ooh and aah before I kill my image. Now what? The crowd calms down after a few moments, and I head upslope for the back exits.
In the main lounge, I once more materialize and start walking around, trying to look as natural as any unaccompanied eleven-year-old girl on a college campus can look. Boring! This may be the center of campus life, but on a Tuesday evening everyone is either in class, studying or pretending to study. I check the snack bar and a couple of the club rooms. No go. I certainly do not see a single woman worth Jeff’s or my time, and, I’ll tell you, when it comes to Jeff and what he’ll get appearance-wise, I am not being too fussy.
Now what? I ask myself. I run a little program that weighs the remaining possibilities. The dorms offer the highest rating, but I override that choice and head for the library. The womens’ dorms may offer the highest concentration of XX-chromosome flesh, but most of them are sorority-types. Jeff will not stand a chance.
I move through an all-glass door and walk with great dignity past the main circulation desk. Attendant barely lifts her head to note my presence. So far, so good. I begin drifting through the stacks, methodically checking each alcove and study carrel. All these beautiful books. So much here I want to know, and I cannot read any of them without flesh help!
Third floor … I spot and zero in on a good bet. She is attractive in a slightly-overweight way, but her face is cute, her hair clean and naturally wavy. She is studying algebra and obviously struggling. Then I notice the ice on her left third finger. Well, too bad. I had hopes there for a moment. She even gives me a smile as I walk on by.
Fifth and top floor … If I bomb at this level, it is all over for tonight. I am making my way along the fourth outer wall when I see a second possibility. Trouble is, she’s arguing with some big, dark-haired guy dressed in deliberately beat-up jeans and camo jacket. I move closer anyway and listen.
“No, I am not doing this! No. That’s final. Look, please go stuff yourself somewhere else. Okay?”
“Please!” The guy is leaning into her, well inside her personal space. He’s trying super hard not to fuel the scene without realizing that six other people are staring his way already. “Just five minutes. It won’t take that long.”
“No.”
The guy straightens up and gives a huge sigh. “I’m not good enough? I’m not your type? You don’t trust me?”
“All of the above.” The girl isn’t even looking his way now. She is trying to sound super cool, but I hear fear and desire in her voice too. He’s getting to her, and I can tell he’s a sleaze.
I smile and walk on over. “Hi, big guy. Pick on someone your own mental size, would you?”
“What’d you want?” He stares at me, his dark, heavy brows twitching. “Where’d you come from, kid?” I can tell he wants me out of here, but he hasn’t quite lost his cool. He knows he’s just been insulted real bad, but I’m not some dork in a bar he can just punch out. “You some kind of smartass?”
“No. No brains in my butt. My brain’s actually a hundred yards west of here.” I give him my sweetest smile.
“Annie, you know this kid?”
Annie is staring at me, shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t know her.”
“Well, then, bug off. Leave us alone. We’re busy.”
“Moosehead, I think Annie is busy. She’s got work to do and you’re buggin’ her.”
Guy loses it. “KID! Get-out-of-here!” he rips into me verbally.
Annie throws up her hands, folds her computer and dumps it in her bag. “I am out of here. Justin, do me a favor. Don’t call me.” She grabs her coat, headphones and drops a blue, university-logoed ballcap on her head. Neat.
“Sorry, Annie,” I call after her. I turn to the Justin guy. He is looking like a bomb ready to go off. I wonder what will happen if I light a match. “You lose,” I tell him, wave a middle finger at him, and head into the stacks.
“Wait a second, you little shit!”
I make it around a corner before he can catch me and go invisible. When he flashes that same corner two seconds later, I am gone. I do not wait. Annie is who I want. I head through the nearest wall, spot her picking a new carrel on the third floor and make my way to a position behind where she sits down. She sighs, shakes her head and tries to get back to work.
I let her work without disturbing her for several minutes, taking in features. I have to rely on visual clues for almost everything since in her silence, I cannot sense her otherwise. I can’t smell or taste anything. She has short, brown hair, a lean, fit body. Nice figure but not too big. Her long-sleeved tee and jeans look like they were chosen for comfort, not style. She wears no jewelry. Annie is obviously someone who takes function over form. I warily move to a position in front of her and take a seat two carrels away. I am trying to respect her distance. Jeff has a problem with that. He is often inside others’ comfort zones—just like that Justin guy was. He has a hard time with a lot of social stuff. So do I, but then most of my brain is an electronic version of his. Too bad.
Annie is still upset. She is trying to concentrate, but every little sound or movement is causing her to look up. I make myself visible and wait.“Oh! You surprised me.” Annie blushes and takes several deep breaths.
“He’s gone. I saw him leave the library,” I tell her.
“Who are you? What are you doing in here?”
“I’m a scout.”
“A Girl Scout? What’s that have to do with anything?”
I place a hand over my mouth to hide a giggle. “No, not that kind of scout. I am looking for someone.”
“And…”
“What’s your name?”
“Wait a second. You’re looking for me? Why?”
“I was not looking for you exactly. You are who I found. Is that all right?”
Annie saves her work and closes the lid of her computer, putting it to sleep. “Now let me get this straight. You, a girl too young to be a student here, a perfect stranger and dressed for summer rather than October, appear out of nowhere, get my ex-boyfriend out of my hair momentarily and find me again because you found me? I am not following this picture.”
I sigh and nod sympathetically. “Do you like traveling?”
“Huh? I guess, sort’a. Why?”
“Do you like to read maps?”
“Not particularly. When I need to get somewhere, I read them. What’s with all the questions?”
I shrug. “I guess I’m just being nosy.”
“Well. Maybe I need to ask you some questions. What’s your name? Do your parents know you are hanging out here, putting your cute nose in other people’s business.”
“Jeff calls me Beetle. I guess that’s my name. He doesn’t know I’m here, but he knows I’m outside somewhere. I guess if he checks my programs, he could track where I am.” I had better shut up now. I am telling this Annie too much.
“Beetle? That’s your nickname? It can’t be your real name, is it?” Annie’s grimace is telling me that she is finding my name ugly and unfeminine.
“That’s all I have.”
“You don’t have a middle name, or last name?”
“Nope. I’m just Beetle.”
“Are you a student here?” Annie asks. I have her hooked now.
“Oh,” I try to sound nonchalant. “Tsk, I do go to a lot of classes.”
Annie considers this remark. “Are you some kind of faculty brat?”
“No. As I said, I’m a scout for Jeff, my … ah … buddy.”
Annie studies me closely, her look sharp enough to make me feel uncomfortable. “You look like you’re a girl—ten, eleven, maybe twelve years old—right? But you talk like you’re twenty, and like you’re a guy. So what gives?”
“Please, I do not want to cause you any problems.”
“Okay. You don’t want problems; I don’t want any either. So next time you see me with my ex, let me handle him. Now, why don’t you leave me so I can get my work done, okay?”
“Okay.” I sound weak and contrite.
I step back and am about to turn and leave, when Annie smiles. “Oh, and tell your nosy buddy that my name is Annie Ziegler, and I live in Foxx Hall, in room F-223.”
“Thanks!” I bow, grin and turn into the nearest aisle between stacks. Once out of sight, I head through a wall and out of the library.
**************
Foxx Hall is over in the east dorms section of campus, a long walk on a cold night, past Old Main, the engineering classrooms complex, the workout center with its pool and weight rooms and the bio labs. Not the route that I would want to be taking on a cool October night with no moon—if I were Annie Ziegler. But, of course, I’m not. I’m Beetle. I do not feel the cold and since I only really exist in a computer on the other side of the library, I do not fear dickheads like Justin stalking me.
I make good time and memorize the route as I go. I transport into Foxx, using a wall instead of the locked main door and never even consider the ID lock that is supposed to keep strangers out. A quick rise and a drift down a hall, and I am in front of the door to F-223.
The door is closed. I expect this. Whether it is actually locked or not, does not matter since I cannot open it and will not use it. I move through the wall and into Annie’s room. Not a bad setup: a closet and two dresser-desk combos with a computer to the right, another closet and beds … Oops! I stare at the couple in the farther bed silently moving in partial-sync together, the guy’s damp, naked back glowing faintly from the street lights outside, the covers half on the floor. I shift to a better vantage point, taking in the details. So, this is what Jeff wants so badly? If my head showed, I would be shaking it. Surely there is more to a relationship than what I am watching. The two are fumbling, trying unsuccessfully to find comfort. He is slightly drunk and when he stops and settles against her, the girl underneath groans. He is not really squashing her, but her expression would make one believe that. She’s okay—I think.
But that is not what I am here for. I check out spaces, taking in the minimal decorations and décor. The one poster over the other bed shows a surreal, partly-clothed, female human floating above some enormous erosion ditch. I search my memories. Ah, yes … place called the Grand Canyon.
That too is a good sign. The closet doors are dark and I cannot judge the contents. Still, what I see is enough to confirm my earlier judgement. As for Annie’s roommate and her choice of companions, I will reserve judgement.
I am seated three feet, four inches above Jeff’s floor, where I am stroking my boxers, my mind soothed by the hum of my real brain, the sub-CRAY standing next to the outer wall. Real objects are merely something I see. They have no other existence. On the other hand, virtual objects, like my clothes, are open to all my sensations. I can touch them and manipulate them, even bite them. Could Jeff make me virtual food? It is a new thought and I explore my programs. It is possible. A grin curls across my face. Sometime soon—when Jeff is a little more caught up on his studies. Ah, but what about Annie Ziegler? She is a conundrum. My programs are telling me to like her. She has enough cool, smarts and spunk that if Jeff lands her, he’ll have a handful for the rest of his life. But do I want her to meet Jeff? I know I should turn her name, description and address over to Jeff. I can feel a program running and rerunning that is telling me to do just that. Will that be fair to Annie? I know what will happen: Jeff will contact her, meet her and in half-an-hour he’ll be on Annie’s list lower than Justin of the library manners. Oh, what should I do?
Voices are coming just outside the door to Jeff’s room. I visualize but cause my body to drift lower until I must raise my head to look over Jeff’s desk and files—That way, if someone enters I do not know, I am out-of-sight.
Annie, Annie, what am I to do about you? Do I have to prepare you? Or do I have to prepare Jeff? Can I prepare either of them?
The door opens suddenly. “Hey, be seeing ya,” Jeff calls to some unseen acquaintance. He closes the door, shakes and scratches his head, shakes his head again, turns around and sees me. “You back already? I thought you’d be whooping it up in some other dorm by now.”
“I found the perfect woman for you,” I tell him. There, program, are you happy now? I told him first thing.
“What are you talkin’ about?” Jeff is giving me a 20 meg stare now.
“You programmed me to look for a woman that could be a suitable mate for you. Remember?”
“A woman? I’m not looking for a woman. I want some chick, babe, girl. You know, someone who … who…” Jeff stumbles into silence, left hand frozen in front of his face. “Shit, you know what I mean.”
“I think so. I think this female person will do.”
“Where’d you meet her? What’s her name?”
“I met her in the library. Her name’s Annie.”
“In the library? Why would I want to meet someone you found in the library?” Jeff sighs. “She good-looking?”
I purse my lips and pretend to study the ceiling. “She’s okay. I think she works out regularly. She does not wear glasses to study. She was not wearing contacts either.” Her roommate does, I saw the plastic keepers and lotion on the roomie’s shelf in their dorm room.
“Okay, Beetle. So how am I supposed to meet this chick?” Jeff is sitting down now. He’s still staring at me but I sense a shift. I analyze it, trying to understand what I am seeing and hearing. Ah, I have it! I am finally a colleague, a companion, someone that Jeff might even respect. It feels good being more than a pain in the ass.
“You want to meet her? First I need a better name. Annie does not want to call me Beetle.”
Jeff scowls. “So. Pick another name. I don’t really care what you call yourself.”
“Thank you. I will. Next, you will need to shower and really clean your bod. Fran says you stink, and I believe her.”
“You believe everything everyone tells you about me?”
“I believe Fran. Look, Jeff, I’m trying to help you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jeff rubs his forehead and turns to face his computer screen. “So, where do I meet her?”
I am not sure of the answer to that question. “I will find out her schedule. Maybe you can meet her at lunch?”
“How much will that cost me. She’s not gonna’ let me sit with her if she does not know me.”
“True. But she knows me, and I know you. You could join me sometime. A plan?”
Jeff nods and smiles. “It’s a plan.” He wakes up his computer and begins working.
It takes me six days to catch up with Annie. I know her class schedule, but I want to make the next encounter seem accidental, and I need more clothes to do that. I find her on a Monday after Jeff programs all weekend for me. He can be so sweet—particularly when he has lust in his heart. This time I watch every keystroke and mouse move he makes. If I know how to make my own clothes, I can get any willing flesh person to do it, instead of taking Jeff away from his studies.
I am wearing full-length jeans and a green-denim, insulated jacket over my boxers and tee-top. Same ballcap. At least I look climate-appropriate. She is walking with two female friends toward the union when I happen to walk by. “Hi, Annie,” I wave.
Annie pauses and gives me a long look before returning my greeting with a smile and a wave of her own. “Hi, Beetle. How’s my little guardian doing today?”
“Fine, just fine.” I pivot and match gait and direction with Annie and her companions. “You headed for the union?”
“Yeah. It’s quicker on Mondays than the commons.”
I nod like I know all these things. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure. Whom are you scouting for today?” Annie’s tone is telling me that she is trying to kid me. I like her.
“I’m done scouting. I’m fishing now,” I tell her.
“Fishing? What will you do if you catch something?” Annie is playing it easy, but her two buddies are both giving me these weird looks.
“I will make my creator happy. At least, that is the program. I know that no one is ever really happy for a long time.”
“You a philosopher? Is this Jeff the guy you’re fishing for?”
“No! Yeah.” I laugh. “I am not any kind of philosopher person, but, yes. I am fishing for Jeff now.”
“…and if you land someone?”
“That is up to Jeff. All I can do is cast lines.”
“What are you two talkin’ about?” the brunette friend demands. “You know her?”
“Yeah. I think I do—a little. This is Beetle. Right?”
I nod slowly. I want to tell people my new name, but I understand that this is not the right time. I do not want to confuse Annie.
“She’s the kid who helped me get rid of Justin.”
“Good riddance,” the second woman says. “What did you do? Smack him one?”
“Kelsey! He wasn’t that bad. Well, maybe he was.” Annie shakes her head. “So, what’s your Jeff like? Is he cool, good looking, smart?” Annie is being what flesh people call ‘ironic.’ This is hard for me to catch, for only the tone of her voice, not her words, tells me that.
“He can be very nice,” I answer. “I think he’s good-looking.” I shrug. “He’s not fat. He has only a couple of pimples. He’s blond.”
“That’s not a plus for a guy,” Kelsey, a slightly-built woman with long, brown hair puts in.
“Not always a plus for a girl either,” Annie nods. “Okay, Beetle. Join us for lunch and if you answer all my questions, I might be willing to meet this Jeff guy. Okay?”
“I won’t eat a lunch, but I will join you with pleasure.”
“You are a weird kid,” Annie tells me, but I understand that she is not trying to insult me, so I just smile.
Annie cards a sub sandwich and milk and yogurt. The brunette gets a sub as well, but Kelsey opts for a burger and fries. They grab a table near a window that provides a view of the lawn called “The Broad” and the downtown beyond. I join them, standing between Brunette and Annie.
“Sit, Beetle,” Annie says and she taps the chair the other side of her.
“If you would pull out the chair six inches, I think I can fit on it,” I answer.
All three give me a strange look, but Annie shifts the chair away from the table and I fold my body so that it looks like I am actually sitting on the chair. “Thank you,” I say to Annie.
Annie unwraps her sandwich. “So, what year is this Jeff guy?”
“He is a fifth-year senior,” I answer.
“Fifth year? What’s his major?”
“Geo.”
“Geology? I didn’t know there was a five-year program for geology majors,” the brunette puts in.
“Jeff is a geology major; he is in his fifth year here,” I say.
“Ah …” Annie swallows a bite and gives me a hard look. “Does that mean he has trouble passing courses?”
“Some of them.” This is not heading in a good direction.
“Loser? Probably,” Brunette decides.
“No!” I cry. “Jeff is smart and cool in his own way. He just has trouble with some courses—like statistics.”
“I can identify with that. I flunked Math 21 the first time I took it,” Kelsey puts in.
“That’s because you never study,” the Brunette tells her.
“Where’s Jeff living right now?” Annie asks.
“Alfred-Lynch, third floor. He’s in a single.”
“Probably can’t keep a roomie,” Brunette observes.
“Jerry, cool it. Let her answer the question,” Annie says. “I’m making the decision here as to whether I’m gonna’ meet this dude.”
“Go ahead. It’s your funeral.” Jerry swigs her soda and concentrates on her sandwich. Kelsey giggles but says nothing.
“Okay, so Jeff here is a senior—sort of—and he lives in Alfie-Lynch and he’s majoring in geology. I have all this right?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“How do you know him? Why are you doing this … ah … scouting–fishing for him?”
Now I am in a real tight set. “I’ve known him all my life. He’s kinda’ a buddy, you could say.”
“I see …” Annie does not look like she is seeing at all. “Okay. Why did you pick me on your scouting expedition?”
“How can I explain character analysis in two or fewer hours? I saw you. I watched the way you studied and how you interacted with the other guy. I feel what I saw matched what my program told me would be a good combination. Ah …”
“Okay, Beetle. Good enough.”
“You know, kid, for someone who looks like just some pubescent punk, you sure talk damn smart,” Jerry admits.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I’ve at least a dozen more questions.” Annie takes a bite out of her sandwich and chews a while before continuing. “But I’ll keep them for Mister Jeff himself. Tell your friend I’m willing to meet him in the library after supper. Say, after seven. I’ll grab one of the fifth floor studies.”
“Thank you. I will tell him.”
“Tell him not to get his hopes up,” Annie adds. “My job here is getting good grades. I’m not some ‘sorostitute.’ I’m not here to snag a hubby. I may not even be looking for a boyfriend.”
I nod. “I will tell him.” I get up and bow and walk away, waving and smiling. Before I am out-of-sight, I can hear Annie’s friends laughing and giving her a hard time as I move out of my hearing range. Let them laugh, I have my catch; now it is Jeff’s turn.
**************
“Jeff, tonight, in one of the fifth floor studies in the library, after seven,” I tell him. “Pay attention. Her first name is Annie. Her last name is Ziegler. She has brown hair that comes to just below her ears. She wears it parted on the right, left side held back with a clip. She has smooth skin with a few freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are a hazel color. I do not know what she will be wearing, but at lunch today, she was wearing a heavy tee-shirt, dark blue with tiny white flowers on the front that formed the words, ‘Hello World.’”
“Enough. I got it.”
“I told her you’re a fifth year senior majoring in geology who has a hard time passing some courses so don’t try to bullshit her, okay?”
“Yes, Boss. Anything else I need to know?”
“Not know. Do. Take a shower. Wash your mouth out. Don’t try to kiss or touch her tonight. Just talk; Try to find out what she likes. Don’t talk about only things you like. She’s not looking for a boyfriend. You have to be nice and not too pushy.”
“Okay, OKAY! I get it.” Jeff throws down his pencil and gets up. “I’ll take a shower right now.” He picks a towel up off the floor. “Where are you gonna’ be?”
“Out of your way,” I answer.
“Good,” he says, and starts getting undressed.
Do I trust my maker? No. When Jeff finally departs for the library, it is already 7:30. He is clean, and his clothes look reasonable, but his hair is still damp and he has cut his face shaving. I can only do so much. I follow him, then, hiding my appearance, scoot ahead and arrive at the fifth floor first. She is in the fourth study on the left, off the main entrance to the floor. She is trying to study, but she is also checking her watch and the clock on her screen every couple of minutes. Not a good start.
Jeff arrives. He looks nervous, his left hand twitching slightly and his eyelids flickering. Okay, guy. She’s here. Don’t blow it. He turns right and starts around the perimeter, pausing by each study room door with a light on to peek inside. He reaches the study where Annie is waiting in less than three minutes. He pauses, rolls his shoulders once and barges on in. “Hi. I’m Jeff. You’re Annie, right? Hey, I heard that you wanted to meet me.” He grabs the chair opposite Annie and sits, leaning his elbows on the table so that he can get close. He stares at her face.
“Jeff!” I scream.
He skids around in his seat. “What, Beetle! What are you doing here?”
“Get out here now!” I order.