Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business RAINBOW GIRL - BOOK 12 - A NEW HOME

CHAPTER ONE: EPIPHANY

Dori checked her calendar, and realized that Ulu and Zellani’s wedding date had passed. She decided to give Zellani a call.

“Hi, Zel, how’s married life treating you?” asked Dori.

“Oh, Dori,” said Zel, “It is completely wonderful. I mean, you wouldn’t think it would make such a difference, would you? Before, it was Ulu and me, and now, it’s Ulu and me, but… Oh, we are so happy! I think about it, and now, I’m part of his family, and he’s part of my family, and we’re a family together… We’re even thinking of taking Antidote… Oh, but you probably think I’m being a little silly.”

“We’re all a little silly when we’re in love,” said Dori. “I’ve been there, too, you know.”

They talked for awhile longer. Zel was working on a new book when she wasn’t writing for anyone else; Ulu was still teaching his regular classes.

“Oh, and Dori, we finished a project you might be interested in. We published Ganthet’s Histories, so now they’re available to any scholar who wants to read them. The translation was pretty difficult; I relied a lot on the machine translators, of course, but I had to make a lot of interpolations myself, to make it understandable. In fact, it’s not really a complete translation at all: I published it as an interlinear, with the original Maltusagarian text, and the best word-by-word translation I could do underneath, then basically a paraphrase in modern Interlac running down a middle column. It was very interesting project; it’s been up for a few days, now, though, and no one really has taken a look at it yet. Of course, it was published as the Histories of the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum, by the False Ganthet, because, you know, the real Ganthet couldn’t possibly have written those books.”

Dori smiled. “I’ll take a look at them” she said. “Maybe you could give me a perspective I haven’t been able to find myself. I am still concerned with this link I have with the Emotional Spectrum. It seems to be getting stronger, and it frightens me sometimes. Well, all the time, really.”

* * *

“She’s so happy,” Dori thought to herself after the call. “I remember that first flush of new-bride happiness…” Suddenly, for Dori, the universe changed.

She stopped. She ran back to the wallscreen, and called Zellani back.

“Zel, you and Ulu—can I come visit you right away? I just realized something, and I want to tell you in person! Talk it through, really.”

“Um… OK, Dori,” said Zel.

“Oh, no, wait, I’m sorry,” said Dori. “I’m not… I mean, do you have plans? Have you even had a honeymoon yet?”

“No, no,” said Zel. “It’s fine. I’d love to see you. We’d love to see you. It’s just… Wow, this must have been sudden epiphany!”

“Oh, it is,” said Dori. “And big news. I wish I could tell Ganthet.”

* * *

Dori thought about it on her trip to Dhor. She took the cruiser; she was beginning to like the feel of it, although it was so much larger than her runabout. It was also oddly more fuel-efficient than her little personal flyer. Maybe not so odd, considering the upgrades the engines had gone through. But was she right? Had the epiphany she had had aflter talking with Zel really been, well, right? She thought over her history. It was, she was sure of it.

* * *

Ulu and Zel were waiting for her, rather anxiously, rather expectantly. Dori hugged them both, then the three sat down together in their small parlor.

“OK, so, the thing is this,” said Dori, “I’ve figured out my connection to the Entities—how to control it. How to break it forever, if I want to. You know, anything that happens, you are always of at least two minds about. Like, Zel, that little annoying thing that Ulu does, that in anyone else would be unbearable, but because it’s him, you find in endearing and cute?” Zel looked shocked. Ulu looked at Zel.

“No, I don’t know anything specific. Everybody has something. But because you’re in love with each other, it’s not annoying, it’s... well, cute. You… well, you sort of choose… endearment over annoyance. Sometimes we suppress our emotions, but more often, we choose—between anger and laughter, between aggravation and pity. Between unhealthy greed, and healthy ambition. We can choose. I’ve been learning to choose, a little bit, which color of the Emotional Spectrum I display. But happiness, Zel, Ulu. Happiness, and sadness, joy and sorrow: they aren’t even part of the Emotional Spectrum." She counted off on her fingers. "Wrath, Greed, Fear, Will, Hope, Empathy, and Love. When Irv was... here... I lost touch with my powers. Not because I was completely overwhelmed with love, although I was, but I was also insanely giddy with happiness, even more than with love. Then when Irv died, I was overwhelmed by sadness. It wasn’t until anger with Niedrich and the Anti-Xenos drove all the happiness out that I regained my powers.”
“Don’t you see? Happiness and sadness, joy and sorrow. Those are the deepest, realest, most human emotions. But they're outside the emotional spectum. Choose joy. If you can’t choose joy, choose sorrow. I can cut myself off from the influence of the Entities anytime: I’m the one in control now. And they are so powerful, so dangerous, that I have decided I am going to keep them locked up inside me for the rest of my life, just to keep the Universe at peace. And I have the lock and I have the key now. I’m going to live my life for joy as much as possible, and mourn if I need to. And there are certainly other human feelings that are alien to the Entities: generosity, forgiveness, kindness. I’m still making a list. I’ve been thinking about it on the way over, and it works, I’m sure it will work.”

Ulu and Zel looked astonished.

“You might have something there,” said Ulu. “But it doesn’t sound like you’ve chosen a particularly easy path for yourself.”

“Would you like to go see the Maltusans with us again, sometime?” Zel offered. “See what they have to say?”

“Maybe,” said Dori. “But I’ve got another project I’m working on now.”

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE

On the trip off Dhor, Dori checked today’s headlines.

[b]Mysterious Pimpernel Repels From Khund Attack[b]
Under attack by a Khund invasion force, the Terran colony Millenius was rescued by a mysterious hero, identified only as ‘The Pimpernel”. UPGov has no comment as to whether this individual is a government operative or contractor, or an independent swashbuckler, like the Legion of Super-Heroes. Witnesses on Millenius claim he was able to vanish at will, move effortlessly through force-fields, and was unharmed by Khundish disruptors and energy torpedos.

Dori placed a call to Bil Katz.

“Hello, Bil,” she said. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. I had such an enjoyable time last time we were together, I was wondering when we could do it again?”

“Dori, my dear, I would love to see you,” said Bil Katz. “But I have decided to remain here on Earth for a while. No more gallivanting about the Outer Worlds for me. Have you read the news feeds? It appears those wicked Khunds are ginning up again for war!”

“I saw that they faced quite a foe in this Pimpernel character,” said Dori. “I’m afraid he may have over-exposed himself, though. Imagine the danger, all alone there against the Khunds.”

“I heard,” said Bil Katz, “There is a rumour he may have been killed in the battle with the Khunds, but UPGov doesn’t want to admit it. You know how I feel about heroes—dreadfully silly occupation, you know.”

“Oh, but good for everyone's morale, I’m sure,” said Dori. “It’s comforting to know someone like the Pimpernel is out there looking out for you.”

“Well, the Pimpernel can look out for himself,” said Bil Katz. “I will be quite busy here on Earth. Have you heard? I have a new holo-vid series in production: “SkyGirl: Adventures in Fifth Grade”. All about a time-traveling Kryptonian orphan adopted by a loving couple on 31st-century Earth, and the adorable hijinks she gets up to. I have been cast as Zoram Ellis, Skygirl’s foster-father. You really ought to watch: they have a perfectly precious little ten-year-old half-Daxamite in the starring role.”

“I’ll try to watch,” said Dori. “But I can never seem to really faithfully followed any holo-vids.”

“Why Dori, you cut me to the quick,” said Bil Katz. “Acting is not only my profession; it is my one true love. A calling, if you will.”

“Good talking to you, Bil,” said Dori. “We’ll catch up next time I’m on Earth.”

“So, the ICC is retiring the Pimpernel,’ Dori thought. “I wonder who they will sent the next time I’m in danger?”

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: A NEW PROJECT

Dori was already in orbit around Jahnson’s World when Bunny finally returned the call she had placed hours before.

“Congratulations,” said Bunny. “You are officially a resident of Jahnson’s World. Ennis has relented, but there was a little confusion with the Polamar Family Trust. They wanted the deed in their name, but I assured them that this was a personal purchase of yours, alone. I assume that was your intention?”

“Yes, the Trust generally purchases and maintains houses and properties for its shareholders, keeping the deeds in its own name,” Dori explained. “I’m somewhat of the exception. The Trust owns and operates Iridium House in Metropolis, of course, but I personally own three properties on Xolnar, and the ruined castle Irv bought us in Spain. Frankly, a good many members of the Polamar family don’t have the wherewithal to purchase the sorts of homes to which they have become accustomed to residing in.”

“Well, you have a nice suite on the upper floors of the Schwarzwald. Would you like a guide from the spaceport?”

“No, thank you, I think I can find my way,” said Dori.

Dori discovered that the rooms were already equipped with a Printer and a RoboChef®. They were otherwise entirely unfurnished. The four appliances she had purchased on Thanar for her house in Sixteenth City were still in the cargo bay of her cruiser.

She considered decoration. The old, paper-bound Histories that Ulu and Zel had given her were still back on Xolnar, as was Gemma’s egg. She decided to give the Printer a workout.

He had taken holos of Gemma’s egg; she had the Printer attempt to reproduce it. The replica was hollow, and the colors less vibrant and metallic, but it would serve as a reminder of home. She downloaded Zellani’s text of “The False Ganthet’s Histories”, and replicated it, bound into nine volumes with color-coded bindings. She investigated the catalog of stored forms, and printed a set of shelves to keep these new items on. She also found a program for a sofa, which unfolded into a comfortable cot, similar to the one on her ship.She printed soft, colorful throw pillows to decorate the sofa / cot, and a warm silvery space-blanket.

She looked at her re-decorated quarters. It was untidy, haphazard, appeared poorly thought-out, and was still mostly empty. She had used over a third of the Printer’s Solid Ink.

“We’ll try again later,” she thought. "After I go shopping."

The supermarket was something of a new experience. There had been no similar places on Xolnar, and the servants done the shopping at Iridium. With the Subs, and as a U.P. Ambassador, there always seemed to be someone taking care of her, whatever world she had been on.

A standard RoboChef hopper claimed to store enough food for a family of four for a month, despite weighing only a few kilos. Food was mostly water, after all; this would be just the dry nutrients. A second Solid Ink cartrige masses about hundred kilos, and came with an anti-grav pad. It was possible to recycle the old furniture: turing a bed into a table, and so on, but Dori was used to more furnishings in her living quarters.

The RoboChef’s hopper had been filled with a wide variety of very basic food constituents and flavorings. The possibilities of combination were enormous, choices ranged from Coconut-Curry Fish to Watermelonberryade. She made herself something very similar to a Xolnaran toasted cheese sandwich.

“Clearly,” she thought to herself, “there is a failure of imagination on my part here.”

She decided to go visit the neighbohrs.

* * *

SO GOOD to see an acknowledgement that the emotional spectrum doesn't go anywhere near embracing the full range of emotional experience....and Dori failing at domesticity is cute to see as well

Joy and sorrow. What a great epiphany.

CHAPTER FOUR: SONDER

It was easy to tell which rooms held guests, and which were permanent occupants of Jahnson’s World. The employees’ doors had a small metal lion’s-head ornament at about eye-level attached to the doorframe.

Her neighbohr two doors down was Judith Gideon, a young mother with four small children. None of them resembled stereotypical Saturnians. They looked more like Kathooni: olive skin, dark hair, dark blue eyes.

“Not all Titans are alike,” said Mrs. Gideon, answering Dori’s surprise. “But we do prefer conversation to mind-reading. Tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Dori Aandraison, I live just two doors down. I’ve just moved here, and… well, tell me about your own family first, if you don’t mind,” said Dori.

“Well, my husband Xiphias is supervisor of the cleaning ‘bots here on Jahnson’s World. We have three sons, Mo, Josh, and Cal, and our oldest, their sister, Miriam. Miriam is in the second grade here, so she’s gone most of the day. Mo doesn’t start Kindergarten until next year. Mr. Jahnson pays Xiphias pretty well, so we decided I could take time off for a few years to be with the children while they were little, instead of putting them in the Jahnson's World daycare. I’m trained as an astrophysicist, but there’s not much call for that on Jahnson’s World. I suppose when I do go back to work, it will be as a full-time Warden.”

“I am hoping to secure a position with Mr. Jahnson as a personal Financial Advisor,” said Dori.

“Really?” said Judith. “I had never heard of any such position on Jahnson’s World.”

“No, that is precisely the case,” said Dori. “I am attempting to convince Mr. Jahnson that he needs to create one.”

“Does this have anything to do with the new Jahnson’s Planet?” asked Judith.

“I’m sorry,” said Dori. “It seems I am more out of the loop than I thought. Ennis is purchasing a second world?”

“Oh, no,” said Judith. “Brande Industries is building one for him. It will be much smaller, more compact; the Jahnson’s World Forests and Hotels will be moved there intact. But the animals in the Forests are to be replaced by robots. There is something mysterious about it all: the robots are not being built by Planet Rossum: it’s some entirely new organization called Faunos Corp.”

“And what of the employees and their families? Are they to be replaced with robots as well?”

“Mr. Jahnson has assured the staff that there will be no layoffs. In fact, Jahnson’s Planet will begin an expansion program after completion, increasing the number of Forests by fifty percent. So we have been asked to reach out to our extended families and friends for possible additional staffing positions before completion-- sometime this year, or next.”

“And what happens to Jahnson’s World after the Forests and Hotels leave?” asked Dori.

“No one really knows,” said Judith. “There’s a lot of speculation, though. Most people think he intends to sell the empty planet to developers, or something like that.”

"{That doesn’t sound like the Ennis Jahnson I know}", thought Dori.

There were a number of little parks scattered among the small, twisty little streets that surrounded the Schwarzwald Hotel. Judith invited Dori to come with her as she took Mo, Josh, and Cal out to play there. It was a quiet, zen-like activity for the adults; for the children, it was a time to run and climb and scream and play. Dori envied the little ones; she could not remember having that kind of surplus youthful energy as a child on Xolnar, but admittedly had only dim, spotty recollections of her childhood.

By the time they got back from the parks, and from picking up Miriam from school, Judith’s husband Xiphias was home. Xiphias was of the same dark complexion as the rest of the family, with sharp, prominent features. Miriam was a miniature of her mother. Dori excused herself, as they were preparing for dinner, and she had been with the family all day. But they insisted she stay: particularly the three boys, who had begun calling her ‘Aunt Dori’. The meal was simple, prepared by the RoboChef.

“I was recently introduced to the RoboChef,” said Dori. “I grew up on Xolnar, and it was not a common technology there. I’m still trying to become accustomed to it; that, and the Solid Printer.”

“Xiphias is something of an expert on domestic technology,” Judith told her. “You ought to let us come over to your place sometime, and show you some of the shortcuts.”

“Both the RoboChef and the Solid Printer are intended to be infinitely customizable,” Xiphias explained. “Which makes them extremely difficult to set up, if you think you have to know everything that they can do. The most important question to ask is, ‘What do I want from my appliances?’”

“I suppose that’s part of the problem,” said Dori. “What I want changes so much from day to day.”

“Well, that is one of the things the Printer is designed for,” said Xiphias. “It can be programmed to re-decorate your apartment every time you leave it, using its slaver bots. You choose to retain the aspects that appeal to you most over time. The Printer will even make educated guesses as to what else might appeal to you.”

“Interesting,” said Dori. “A constantly evolving lifestyle, without the burden of accumulation of stuff. Everything is recycled.”

“Solid Ink is interesting stuff,” Xiphias mused. “Depending on the amount of air mixed into it, it can be as hard as wood, or as soft as down. Oddly enough, it is somewhat molecularly similar to Bakelite, one of the first plastics. Of course, it is pretty poor at forming sharp edges, so every Printer also has a complement of steel and platinum for manufacturing knife blades and so on.”

“Xiphias majored in Inorganic Chemistry in college,” Judith explained. “You’ll have to excuse him if he rambles.”

“If I may say,” said Dori, “Ennis Jahnson seems to hire overly-qualified employees on Jahnson’s World. Xiphias, you evidently have a Chemistry degree, and yet are working as essentially the local Merry-Mecha-Maids dispatcher. Everyone I have met on Jahnson’s World is similarly over-qualified.”

“But Mr. Jahnson pays very well,” said Judith. “Room and board, private schools and medical access are part of the benefits package, besides. And living in what is essential a planetary Amusement Park is a dream for the children. It would be difficult for anyone-- especially a telepath-- to find an equally desirable position anywhere else in the U.P.

"Is there really still such hostility towards telepaths generally in the United Planets? I thought that ended decades ago, except perhaps on Earth."

"Earth alone still makes up nearly half the Terran population in the Galaxy, so their cultural influence is substantial. And the animosity is more subtle now, not like in the last century. But at least we’re not Durlans,” said Judith.

“There are some unique benefits to my particular position as well,” said Xiphias. “For example, as Housekeeping Supervisor, I also have responsibility for the Tetratessaract.”

“Ooh, Daddy, are we going to look in the big box?” Miriam asked excitedly.

Dori and the family adjourned to an isolated area of the apartment, where a small wallscreen stood above what appeared to be a small wallsafe. There was a keying panel beside the setup as well.

“This is the Tetratessaract,” Xiphias announced.

“Why ‘tetra’?” asked Dori. “Why do you need four? I thought a tessaract by definition had infinite storage space.”

“Yes, but only a finite number of access points,” said Xiphias. “These four tessaracts are cross-linked, effectively a single unit, but with access from any one of the hotels. This unit in our apartment is the master portal. And what we store here is… anything any of the guests may leave behind. It is coded by date and unit, so we theoretically know which guest left it. However, some are reluctant to pick up their prodigal belongings, even when we offer free shipping.”

“Yes, I know what the hotel business is like,” said Dori.

“It’s odd, too,” said Xiphias, “The majority of what we pick up is the most benign material. More than half are just ordinary coats and sweaters. Some of them small enough for our kids to wear—and not Printed, either. Natural fabric, machine-made, mostly, but even some artisanal.” He pulled up an inventory screen. “So far, the Cleaners have collected about nineteen thousand pieces of clothing, about eight thousand other miscellaneous unclaimed items. It works out to four or five pieces per day, planetwide. Not very much per day, I suppose, but it tends to pile up over time. Originally, Ennis wanted us to track it all, and return each item to the guests. When the ‘Lost-&-Found’ got too big, he invested in this Tetratessaract and inventory system. But now, he just doesn’t seem to know what to do with it all. We pull a bit of the older stuff out occasionally, as a special treat for the kids across Jahnson's World. A bit of different clothing, or some appropriate little toy or game or holo-book. A little treat.” The screen flashed item after item after item. They might be good for something, somewhere, Dori thought. But really, just a pile of… unwanted stuff. Who knew Ennis Jahnson was a hoarder?

CHAPTER FIVE: ON THE TOWN

The Gideons suggested Dori look up an acquaintance of theirs who lived a couple of floor down. Carroll Hildebrandt was in her mid-twenties, single, and well acquainted with the night life on Jahnson’s World.

Carroll was tall and willowy, but relatively flat-faced, somewhat ordinary-looking young woman who worked as a full-time Warden. She partnered with a particular Probe she had nicknamed JoDo. She invited Dori to come watch her work.

Carroll and JoDo had one of the twenty-four Holding Areas of Schwazwald as their semi-permanent assignment. Carroll invited Dori to accompany them on their morning routine. As each guest came in, the Saturnian and the android established a low-level psychic link with each of the guests: between one and twelve each day. The link was strong enough to register distress, or other strong emotion, but was not invasive. At Transformation, Carroll kept a sharp lookout for problems: guests who transformed into fish, or some other creature otherwise in distress in the Holding Area environment. Problems were rare. Then, unless a guest signaled for help during the day (either consciously or unconsciously) Carroll’s work was done until the following morning, a couple of hours before Untransformations.

Untransformations was a bit more work: she had to send the telepathic announcement ‘come-home’ announcement, then determine where in the Forest her guests were located. She would prompt them towards the nearest exit—the Forest paths were designed to help in this, too—and then ‘trade’ telepathic links with the Wardens in the other Holding Areas that each of ‘her’ guests would be exiting into. If there were guests who had been bold enough to penetrate Schwarzwald deeply enough, and the return trip was too long, Carroll would send JoDo in on a flying platform to pick them up. Finally, she would greet the guests exiting through her Holding Area, help them through the Untransformation, and then point them back toward their respective hotel rooms.

As Carroll always got up terribly early, she would be hungry by the time the guests were settled, and go to an early lunch. Dori had barely finished breakfast, but accompanied her new friend.

“After this, I usually go back to my apartment, change, and hit the Scene,” Carroll explained.

“In the middle of the afternoon?” asked Dori.

“Our guests who are not sleeping off their time in the Forest,” said Carroll, “Are up for entertainment fairly early in the day. The middle of the afternoon is not too early here to find a party.”

Carroll’s idea of changing after work was rather more extreme than Dori anticipated. By the time she was ready to go, her willowy frame had become statuesque, and her unremarkable features had become positively stunning.

“Are you using a portable holo-projector?” Dori asked. “I honestly would not have recognized you if we had met on the street.”

“It’s all perfectly natural: just different clothing and makeup,” said Carroll. “Look closely. The cheekbones? Painted on. The deep, soulful eyes? The same. This is only one of my looks; I’ve met the same guest in the same bar on three different visits over a year, and he didn’t recognize me all night.”

“So you entertain guests in you off-hours?” said Dori. “You’re not some sort of geisha for Jahnson’s World, are you?”

“I entertain myself,” said Carroll. “And part of that is livening up a dull party. If that happens to entertain a few guests, as well, well, that’s all to the good, isn't it? If not, I make my own fun. Of course, if I find a temporary companion who is worth spending some time with… well, as a mind-reader that really doesn’t happen very often. Frankly, no matter what Ennis might turn them into, most of the men who come to Jahnson's World are, at heart, pigs.” Carroll reflected a moment. “On the other hand, sometimes I’m just in the mood for little pork,” she mused.

Dori had had some experience at clubbing at various points in her single life, but had never met anyone as dedicated to it as Carroll Hildebrandt. Fortunately, Carroll retired early, having an early day at the Holding Area the following morning. Dori was worn out.

“She’s a very interesting person,” Dori told Judith Gabriel. “A woman of many talents.But frankly, I would prefer spending most days at the parks with your boys. Or inventorying the tourist shops.”

“Oh, we just thought you might be interested meeting someone your own age,” Judith Gabriel said. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, nothing to be sorry about,” said Dori. “Carroll is great fun, in small doses. I can honestly say I have never met anyone like her. But she’s hardly my age.”

“Are you older than you look?” asked Judith. “You certainly can’t be much younger.”

“I’m easily twice Carroll’s age,” said Dori. “I was grown, married and widowed even before she was born.”

“Oh, Dori—I didn’t know,” said Judith. “Do you have any children?”

“No, no, no children,” said Dori. “I did write a book once, though, and that took me nine months.”

CHAPER SIX: QUARANTINE

It was Carroll Hildebrandt that showed Dori the Jahnson’s World Employee Directory. As a permanent resident, Dori seemed to have been granted access equal to the actual employees. There was a single listing for ‘Accountant’—a Mr. Ynxlyngar on Zyzan. Dori decided to give him a call.

“What can I do for you?” the hooded golden lizard asked.

“I am researching a position as a Financial Advisor to one of your clients, Ennis Jahnson of Jahnson’s World, Inc.,” Dori explained. “As far as I can see, your firm does only bookkeeping and taxes for Mr. Jahnson. I was wondering why you had not offered any consultancy on investments, better business practices, and so on?”

“I cannot divulge any confidential financial information or proprietary knowledge that our firm may be privy to,” said Mr. Ynxlyngar, “I can tell you, however, that Mr. Jahnson is, indeed represented by this firm is certain financial matters. I can also tell you that Ennis Jahnson is a man who knows his own mind, and knows it well. His business practices are his own, and he is more than a little reluctant to accept advice from others. His investments, as well, are his own investments, made according to his own enigmatic methods, and although some might argue with the value of their returns, they are apparently sufficient to his personal financial goals. You will find, I think, that he can be infuriatingly stubborn in the face of reasoned, rational argument. What is the Terran colloquialism? Pig-headed.”

“You will be happy to learn that you have told me nothing I do not already know,” said Dori. “Now, would it be against your company’s policies to divulge why you believe Mr. Jahnson uses an accounting service on Zyzan, when such services are offered gratis to large customers of the Interplanetary Bank?”

“I can only assume,” said Mr. Ynxlyngar, “That it is because we will manage his financial dealings according to his personal eccentric desires, without question or hesitation. We Zyzans are notoriously cold-blooded that way. We might be able to do the same for you, Ms. Aandraison.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ynxlyngar,” said Dori, “But I think I understand my own financial goals, and am capable of managing my inheritance, better than anyone else.”

“Then you and Mr. Jahnson have at least that in common,” said Mr. Ynxlyngar. “And your financial goals may not be as mysterious as you would make them out to be. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of…’ well, a ‘Financial Advisor’. Good luck to you. Keep us in mind for your future accounting needs.”

The next morning, Dori received a call from Bernardinne Chandrasekar.

“Hello, Bunny,” said Dori. “I haven’t heard from you since I got back to Jahnson’s World.”

“Dori,” Bunny sighed, “Ennis would like to meet with you in his office. Is 1500 hours all right?”

“Sure, that would be fine,” said Dori, cheerfully.

“And tonight, if you are free, I would like to have you over for dinner again,” said Bunny.

“Why… thank you, Bunny. That would be wonderful,” said Dori.

Dori planned to have lunch before meeting with Ennis Jahnson, but nothing she could find on the RoboChef’s menu appealed to her. By 1210, she was feeling nauseous, and decided she really needed to eat something. By 1220, her lunch untouched, she was feeling achy and feverish. By 1240, she had gone to the Schwarzwald Hospital.

“Oh, dear,” said Solla, the attending nurse, checking Dori with the med-scanner. Two white-clad Probes were summoned who escorted Dori to an upstairs room.

At 1320, Bernardinne Chandrasekar was on the little room’s wallscreen.

“Hello again, Dori,” said Bunny. “You will be happy to know I sent Ennis your regrets. I am also sorry that you will not be joining Olea and I for dinner tonight. Unfortunately, it seems that you have come down with a case of Mlainfluenza.”

“The flu?” said Dori. “Can’t you just give me a shot and send me home?”

“No, unfortunately, Mlainfluenza is untreatable. Unlike the true Terran Flu, it is caused by a rapidly-mutating parasite. Fortunately, your body should fight it off on its own within forty-eight hours. Unfortunately, you will have to be kept in quarantine until then. And we will need to know everyone you came in contact with in the last two days.”

“Oh,” said Dori. “The Gideons, Dora Beringer, Gemma, Carroll Hildebrandt… and, of course, everyone in the Schwarzwald Café for breakfast and lunch the past two days.”

“Only close contact really matters,” said Bunny. “I imagine you picked this up from Dora. We’ll check the others. We’ve only had half-a-dozen cases so far, but on Jahnson’s World, that’s nearly an epidemic. We’ll check out the Gideons, and Carroll, and Gemma, to make sure it stays contained. Now, as for your upcoming adventure in infirmity: you will be sick for two days. You will be unable to eat or drink anything—believe me, in a few hours, you won’t want to. We’ll send in a Probe who will install a personal health monitor and a glucose drip for you. We’ll put in a little analgesic in the drip for the discomfort, but we do want you to run a fever. You are going to feel nasty. Your eyes also won’t be able to focus very well fairly soon, so give up on the idea of reading, or watching holo-vids. I would suggest music for your entertainment; let us know what you like.”

Dori was bored to tears in quarantine, until the stomach-aches started. Then she longed for the time when she felt bored. When her digestive system settled down—or had she just gotten used to it?—the muscle and joint aches started. Fortunately, she was so tired by that time she was able to sleep through most of the pain. She woke up feeling substantially better, except for one more worrying symptom. She called the Nurse’s Station on the intercom.

“Are your android Probes unusually short?” Dori asked.

“No, why?” the nurse on duty asked.

“Is hallucinating small blue men a symptom of Mylainfluenza?” Dori asked.

“No, that’s Hundar’s Malady,” said the nurse. “Dori, are you all right?”

“It is us,” said Ganthet and Sayd. “But no one will be able to sense us but you. Speak quietly, or only in your thoughts.”

“This world is full of telepaths,” Dori thought loudly.

“Nevertheless, they will not be able to hear our conversation,” Ganthet thought back.

“Why are you here?” thought Dori, “If you are really here.”

“Oh, we are here indeed, Dori,” thought Sayd. “I am perfectly convinced of the reality of my existence.”

“We merely wish to congratulate you on a unique solution to a vexing conundrum,” said Ganthet. “You propose to tame the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum with Joy and Grief, which lie outside their demesnes. It is an elegant resolution of the problem. The Guardians—all of Malthus, in fact—thought to escape the Entities by denying themselves all emotion. They intended to live lives of pure reason, logic and will alone. But, of course, Will itself is still part of the Spectrum, and eventually decays into Willfulness and Envy. The Guardians—all of us, myself not excepted—went rather mad at the end. We might have destroyed the Universe, had it not been for the Corps which we created opposing us.”

“But can you compel yourself to live a life of focused Happiness and Sadness, Joy and Grief, for an eternity?” thought Sayd. “Happiness fades, and Sorrow will likely become burdensome as the millennia pass, one upon another. Could you not be driven mad yourself, by the powerful forces you have aligned yourself with?”

“I don’t really expect to live for millenia,” thought Dori, laughing out loud. “I’m only human, after all.”

“Do you still not understand your link to the Emotional Entities?” thought Sayd. “They are not mortal; they exist from the beginning of time to the end of the Universe. Have you not noticed your gift of Eternal Youth? Although it is true, you have demonstrated a link to Death as well as Life, and so, I suppose, you might be able to die if you wish. Still, we doubt anything could kill you against your will.”

“What?” thought Dori. “If I could die just by wishing it, I think I would have during the past two days. Malthusians aren’t susceptible to the Mlainfluenza parasite, are you?”

Ganthet and Sayd exchanged glances.

“Malthusians do not become physically ill,” thought Ganthet. “We would not have risked coming here, otherwise. We felt this quarantine might be an auspicious time for us to meet. It has brought you some relief from the tedium, has it not?”

“I was just thinking a few hours ago that my life could use some more tedium,” thought Dori. “Ganthet, may I ask how old you are?”

“I am approximately one-hundred-sixty-million times your age,” thought Ganthet.

“So if I lived to be your age…” thought Dori, “Well, I suppose there would be a great deal of time for tedium, if I wanted it.”

“You will find,” thought Sayd, “That becoming involved in the lives of mortal beings will keep your life from growing dull. I would give you this advice, however. You have many human flaws, but one of those is impatience. Impatience is unbecoming in an immortal.”

“Thank you, Sayd,” thought Dori. “Perhaps I should call you ‘Frank’, instead.”

Ganthet and Sayd exchanged glances.

“Hopefully, she will not become a Poglachian,” thought Ganthet. “We are having enough trouble with Sodam Yat in that regard.”

“That’s another thing,” thought Dori. “Sodam Yat told me that I am not written in the Book of Green. If I have such a deep connection to the Emotional Entities as you claim, shouldn’t I be written in all their books?”

“Sodam Yat did not tell you that you were not written in the Book of Oa,” thought Ganthet. “He showed you that your entry was not there. But all the wielders of the Green Light, and all their doings, are written somewhere within the Book of Oa. You have had conversations with Sodam Yat, Sayd, and myself, and thus must be written within our stories. From there, of course, you could have followed the cross-references to view your own life in its completeness. But the Book of Oa contains not merely the past and the present, but also the future, and Sodam Yat may have been wise not to show you fully how to use it.”

“OK,” thought Dori, “Sodam Yat is a slippery customer. Now tell me about the Poglachians.”

“As you are attempting to overcome the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum with Joy and Grief, so a group of Malthusians attempted to tame the Entities with Humor, which also lies outside their sphere of influence. It did not go well. They found madness more quickly than any who have ever left us. They are still out there in the Universe, somewhere. May you never have the misfortune to meet them.”

“They are easily distinguishable,” thought Sayd. “While they resemble ordinary Maltusans, they never remove their false red rubber noses. Not even for a joke.”

The wallscreen beeped.

“Dori, we believe you are over Mlainfluenza,” said Nurse Solla. “Your vital signs seem normal, and we will be sending in a Probe for a deep scan to make sure you are no longer infectious. The other good news is we only had a couple more cases admitted after yours, so this ‘mini-epidemic’ was contained.”

When Dori looked up from the wallscreen, Ganthet and Sayd were gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN: APPOINTMENTS

"One more thing we need to take care of," said Nurse Solla, as Dori lay in the hospital bed. "I believe you wanted to get rid of that ring?"

"Yes, thank you," said Dori. "Somehow we never got around to it, did we?"

Nurse Solla arranged to bring in five other nurses from various stations, three women and two men. They formed a semi-circle around Dori's bed, hands clasped. Dori felt nothing in particular, but suddenly remembered: she had one had a ring, like mother-of-pearl in appearance; no, it had only been the illusion of a ring. She looked at her had: now it was gone.

"Well," said Nurse Solla, "That was neither easier nor more difficult than we imagined, but very strange. This creature that calls itself 'the Nothing'-- what is it?"

"I have no idea," said Dori. "But I would not want to meet with it again."

* * *

Dori had her long-delayed dinner with Bunny at last. Olea prepared a meal that outdid anything Dori had eaten since she had last been on Jahnson’s World. Little Marrita was still as charming as ever, and still as interested in Dori' 'double aura'.

The next afternoon, she met with Ennis Jahnson.

“Dori, you must understand I am grateful to you,” he said. “You saved Jahnson’s World from my short-sightedness, when I had given up all hope. More importantly, you made me look at the venture with new eyes. Set some wheels turning, if you will. Consequently, I wish to be completely honest with you. I do not feel I need a financial advisor, or an investment counselor, or anything of the kind. And if I did, I could not hire you.”

“Why not?” said Dori. “Haven’t you just said I have proven my worth to you, saved Jahnson’s World from financial wreck, put it on a path to greater profitability?”

“Yes, Dori, that is not the issue,” said Ennis Jahnson. “You are talented; there is no doubt about that. But I cannot hire you because you don’t need a job .”

“I don’t understand.”

“One of my qualifications for an employee is that they need the work. Saturnians are valuable to me in other ways, but beyond their natural talents, most of them are essentially unemployable, due to the bigotry and mistrust that exist among the telepathically blind of the Galaxy. This despite the fact that virtually all those working here have brilliant minds, and many are highly educated. Your friend Judith Gideon may have told you that she is trained in astrophysics. In fact, she was a Ph.D. candidate, who only left school because she ran out of money. Yet no observatory will hire her, no peers will evaluate her work gratis, no star-liner will even hire her as an astronavigator. There are literally millions of such persons in the United Planets: brilliant, talented, well-educated, competent, and decent, but living on the UPgov dole in Saturnian, Naltoran, Durlan, Bokkite, or Xudaran ghettoes. This provides me with a very broad pool of talent from which to draw my employees.”

“Isn’t this a sort of reverse discrimination?” asked Dori. “You are excluding literally trillions of families from ever hoping to live and work on Jahnson’s World.”

“Calling 'racism' against the ruling elite is absurd. One must be in a position of power to properly exercise bigotry. Dori, there are countless opportunities for employment for you,” Ennis Jahnson explained. “In addition, you are, well, to put it bluntly, rich . You do not really need work; in fact, you need never work again in your life, if you manage your money with even a modicum of discretion. I am not going to employ you. But, as I say, I am grateful for the advice you have given me, and I am willing to give you something in return which you will find, I think, more valuable than money. I will satisfy your curiosity.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Dori huffed. “A nosy old woman, who trades in gossip as currency?”

Ennis Jahnson laughed. “Dori, your contacts make you a point of entry, for me, into the gossip mills which swirl around Metropolis, and from there out into the rest of the Galaxy. This, whether you like it or not, is the truth. There is some word-of-mouth promotion I would like to see enter that maelstrom, and there is some information which I would like kept private. However, because of my respect for you, I am going to give you both, unadulterated and unalloyed.”

Dori thought for a moment. “This is about Jahnson’s Planet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Brande Industries is building a small planetoid for me-- an artificial moon, and we will be moving all artificial enhancements from this natural orb onto it. In addition, there will be room for expansion.”

“I assume that like Jahnson’s World, Jahnson’s Planet will be forced into the Standard Terran time-cycle?”

“Well, yes, it does remind me of home,” said Ennis Jahnson. “It will have a rotational period of twenty-four hours, but its ‘year’ will be somewhat problematic. Completely climate controlled, there will be no ‘seasons’ except what we determine within each Forest. And it will orbit not the old Jahnson’s World, but a small, distant moon, mostly unnoticed here under the spectacle of the domes. The Interplanetary Bank will be establishing an Exchange Bank on that moon, which has been christened ‘Fortunatus’. As for Jahnson’s World itself…”

“You will be divesting yourself of that investment,” Dori suggested.

“Oh, quite the contrary. Jahnson's Workl will cease to exist, it’s true, but only because I will be changing the name. I will still be using the proceeds from Jahnson’s Planet to pay off the mortgage on this world.”

“So it is going back to its old name of ‘Basura’?” Dori asked.

“Oh, no, I think not,” said Ennis Jahnson. “I was thinking of calling it ‘Tesoro’.”

“And there is a rumor that you will be getting rid of all the animals in your artificial Forests,” said Dori.

“Oh, no, I would like that rumor squelched right away. My entire menagerie is accompanying the human population to Jahnson’s Planet. However, I have contracted for some robotic replicas to be created for a new Jahnson’s World attraction: a hunting zone. Two domes, actually, one for Transformed individuals, and one for hunters in their natural forms.”

“And what sorts of animals would these be?” asked Dori.

“Ancient Earthling dinosaurs, naturally,” said Ennis Jahnson. “Jovian Montressors, Earthquake Beasts, Paratoxodonts, that sort of thing. Of course, I would appreciate it if my guests, at least initially, were unaware that these are robotic imitations. Perhaps the idea might be circulated that some are artificial constructs, and some are real. But this is in response to certain requests I have had in the past; in the long-term, I expect the thrill of the hunt will diminish, and these new Forests will ultimately be re-purposed.”

“There is something unusual about these robotic beasts, isn’t there?” said Dori. “I understood that Rossum refused to build them for you.”

“Only Planet Rossum could build robots of this complexity and verisimilitude,” said Ennis Jahnson. “However, it is true that they have created a shadow subsidiary called ‘Faunos’ to do the actual construction. They want to make it clear to their investors and clients that these machines are subject to a unique—and somewhat different-- level of quality control.”

“What are you hinting at?” asked Dori.

“They are not as, well, intelligent as the usual Rossum robot. And they are, how shall I put it, only ‘Mostly Harmless’.”

“But Rossum robots are famously entirely harmless,” said Dori. “They are intentionally unsuitable for aggression, and cannot be weaponized.”

“Yes,” said Ennis Jahnson, “That is perfectly true of the Rossum robot line. Thus the creation of the Faunos subsidiary.”

Dori examined Ennis Jahnson critically. “Your ethical concern for your fellow-beings seems tempered by their level of wealth,” she observed.

“Oh, no, quite untrue,” said Ennis Jahnson. “It is perhaps tempered by their level of privilege. Yet I do try to grant to both the privileged and underprivileged that which they desire.”

“It is said there have been demons who wreaked a great deal of havoc, merely by giving people exactly what they want,” said Dori.

“Oh, I think what generosity I have is tempered with mercy,” said Ennis Jahnson. “You know what mercy is, don’t you? It is giving people what they do not deserve, and not giving people what they do deserve.”

“There is a real nasty streak inside you, Ennis Jahnson,” said Dori.

“You have inspired me in another way,” said Ennis Jahnson. “You are the first resident of Jahnson’s World who is neither an employee, nor a member of and employee’s family. Well, with a couple of exceptions. But I asked myself, ‘Why not turn one of my new Domes into a residence community? A little city, here on Jahnson’s World, filled with some of the people I might employ, but do not have the resources to do so. I have estimated that one dome, about one hundred thousand hectares, might house up to ten million residents. Unfortunately, such an exercise would cost perhaps thirty million credits per day to operate, which is entirely beyond even my means at this time.”

“People are not children, Ennis, and they do not need you to provide for them like some generous all-father,” Dori scolded. "And Utopias have historically been notoriously unstable."

“Oh, but the majority would be children,” said Ennis. “In a family of four, half are children. And I have a soft spot in my heart for orphans and orphanages, as you know.”

“Still, a community of that size could be self-supporting,” said Dori. “If an appropriate internal economy were set up, providing their own food, shelter, clothing—perhaps acquiring extraplanetary income through some sort of unique artisanal product… Interplanetary colonies have been established of a much smaller size.”

“I am aware of all this,” said Ennis Jahnson. “But in constructing a society from the ‘ground up’, as it were, it is best to proceed cautiously, with ‘the consent of the governed’, and assuring a shared vision of community, responsibility, and futurity. And not necessarily my vision, I hasten to add. It is a long-term, ongoing project. Jahnson’s Planet is still under construction.”

“Jahnson’s Planet will orbit the moon Fortunatus, which will orbit Tesoro, which will orbit… what is the name of Jahnson’s World’s primary?”

“PSR B1257+12, delta-c,” said Ennis Jahnson. “No one really ever really bothered to name it anything else, and you can’t buy naming rights to a star.”

“And how are you able to afford this massive construction and relocation project?” Dori asked, “When a few months ago you were teetering on the edge of bankruptcy?”

“Brande Industries has offered generous financing terms,” said Ennis Jahnson. “Professional courtesy, I suppose, just between us shape-shifters.”

“That is someone I really ought to offer my services to as a financial consultant,” said Dori. “It seems to me that they take unnecessary risks.”

“Brande Industries, to save you the research, has long employed consultants, at great expense, from Ventura, Naltor, and the Trylop Council of Mernl, which somewhat explains their success in their riskier ventures,” offered Ennis Jahnson. “They have been fine partners in this latest project.”

“Is that all?” asked Dori.

“You may relay what information you like, as you like, to whomever you like,” said Ennis Jahnson. “For reasons already stated, I do not intend to hire you as an advertising consultant, either. But I hope you enjoy your stay here on Jahnson’s World, and will find Jahnson’s Planet just as hospitable. Perhaps you will even begin to think of it as a home-away-from-home.”

“Home,” thought Dori, on her way back to her apartment. “Xolnar was home for me, as a child. Earth was home for awhile, but became less so the longer I stayed. My apartment on Weber’s World never really felt like home; it was only a stop between diplomatic missons. I tried to make a home again on Xolnar, but it is a world of past mysteries to me. I feel more out of place there than I do on Earth now. I have friends all across the galaxy, but where is home to me now?”

She looked around her sparsely-decorated suite in the Schwarzwald Hotel. “No, still not home,” she thought.