“Strongest initial contact with the grid I’ve ever seen or heard about, that’s for sure. If he could learn to control it, I hate to think what kind of power he could command on his own. The only thing is, he’s something of a nebbish. Not really assertive, head in the clouds—you know the type.”
“Yes. A typical engineer. All right—we’ll have some people keep an eye on him. We don’t want him becoming another one of Suzuki’s playthings, and he may be of some value to us later. There are only a couple of dozen like him so far, and that makes them premium goods. That’s all. Out.”
Miyoko and Kazuko, the two assistants in charge of the west point’s amp, had been briefed by Connie on what she was going to do and had engaged in some discussions with her about it beforehand. Since Connie was exactly what they aspired to be, they thought she had lost her mind, but there was no way to prevent it. They were prepared for some sort of changes, but not the extreme they saw. Still, they were both personally and scientifically curious. They also knew that they were now privy to a secret, the knowledge that such things could be done, and would face Security probably before they got back to the core. It would hardly cost more to learn as much as possible. It might even get them promoted.
Both technicians were small women—Miyoko was 157 centimeters, Kazuko only 152 while Connie had been of medium height. She was now, however, perhaps 147 or 148, shorter than either of them.
Connie turned to them and smiled. “Oh, hi!” Her old voice had been rather deep and nasal; it now was quite high, yet soft and throaty.
“Do you—remember us?” Kazuko asked hesitantly. Both she and Miyoko had very slight builds, and they were somewhat taken aback by the proportions here.
“Oh, sure.” She looked back at her reflection. “Wow! Ain’t dis great!”
They weren’t so sure, but it wasn’t the time or place for that. “You remember who you are? That you’re Connie?”
“No, no! Connie kapu. Done. Gotta have new name for new me. Don’ wanna be Connie no more. How ’bout— Kitten? Yeah. Kitten. Dat be good name, I think. You call me Kitten.”
“All right—Kitten. Come on over and have something to eat and we’ll talk a little.” Frankly, they weren’t quite sure what to do with her and were just checking things out before radioing for instructions.
By the time Gorton returned, they’d learned a great deal. Connie remembered her few relations and something of her childhood; she remembered Hawaii, and New Zealand, and even Titan, although she didn’t like the last. She could not, however, remember exactly why she had come to New Eden or what kind of job she’d had. She vaguely understood the basics of what they were doing, but apparently every correlation between what was and computers or science had been replaced with a new cross-reference to magic and spells. She not only believed it was all magic, she took magic for granted. She knew that she’d once been a magician—as Connie—but that such power brought all work and worry and no fun, and she’d cast a spell on herself that made her this way. Actually, the point of view was slightly skewed. She saw it as having relieved herself of all burdens and now she was truly free.
All this was in short, choppy sentences or sometimes fragments of sentences, partly straight English with a sexy lisp and bad grammar, and partly Hawaiian pidgin. She was also giggly and easily distracted. Her time focus was entirely on the moment; she rejected the past as irrelevant and had no vision of even the immediate future. What she would do, where she would go, how she’d cope with the basics, just didn’t worry her. She didn’t know where she was going from here or how she would get there, but she had a child’s faith that it would work out. Besides, she didn’t care where she went or how she got there.
Both the technical assistants had queasy stomachs after a while, and a sense of total unreality about this. If a bright, intelligent, highly educated professional woman with a career could be turned into this, then anyone could be turned into anything. Miyoko and Kazuko were in the business of imposing rules, and now they were faced with the terrifying concept, to them, that there were no rules.
They were relieved, but only a little, by Gorton’s arrival and his offer to take the new Kitten off their hands. For his part, the signal corpsman was as shocked and disturbed by the results as the two technicians. More so, in a way, since he’d been mentally prepared only for a freezing of the woman he’d left.
For her part, she had no hesitancy in going with him.
“Can you still ride a horse?” he asked hesitantly.
“Sure. Been ridin’ long time. Got here on dat horse, din’t I?”
Without any clothes, though, and no way to easily get them to fit, she decided to ride with only a bridle and blanket. She wasn’t even aware that she was naked until it was pointed out to her, but when it was, it certainly seemed irrelevant to her. Clothes were like jewelry—something you put on to look pretty. In this heat they had no other purpose. She neither asked him where they were going nor how long it would take to get there. The first was irrelevant to her and the second meaningless.
She did, however, comment that she’d bet that she’d never worry about getting a meal or a bed when she wanted one. She proved her point by attempting to seduce him at every turn, and she succeeded without a lot of trouble. In the soft grass she was absolutely brilliant and pretty well insatiable, yet she had the knack for making him feel and believe that he was manhood personified.
Gorton could see, and noted for the record, that a filling-in process was going on inside her mind, one that would probably continue until it met a perfect balance. It wasn’t a program but rather a psychological adjustment her own brain seemed to be making, shoving old and obsolete data into the dusty corners and building a complete personality consistent with her new self. Over time, she’d no longer even dream anything other than Kitten dreams nor have any self-image of herself as Connie. It was an additionally scary idea.
In a leisurely two and a half days they made it to the core, where she was the instant center of attention of male and female alike. She enjoyed every minute of it. Regretfully, he turned her over to Security and went to make his report to Major Craig. Security brought her to Suzuki’s office, where a staff examined her inside and out, physically and mentally. Ultimately, they had a staff meeting on just what to do with her.
“My mind objective is to set her loose and see how she adapts or interacts,” the chief psychiatrist told them. “My major problem is in how to both protect her from violence— she’s virtually defenseless and as trusting and innocent as a little child—and also explain her appearance and mannerisms. There are enough rumors about her going around already.”
“She’s not at all defenseless,” noted a staff psychologist.
“Check with the people here. She was brilliant before and she’s every bit as brilliant now, only that l.Q. is now going into a single channel and that is whatever she wants at the moment. It’s impossible to remain dispassionate or objective about her in her presence. No matter how hard you try, you wind up twisted around her little finger. As for the other. I suspect it is psychologically impossible for her to be raped, since sex even of the kinkiest kind is never against her will. If you’re into bondage, so is she. If you’re sado-masochistic in sex, she thinks that’s fine. If you’re basic and simple, she makes it an adventure, and she’ll seduce women as readily as men.”
“But rape isn’t sex—it’s violence expressed through a sexual act,” another pointed out. “That’s not the same thing.”
“To the perpetrator, but not to her. I’m not sure, but I suspect a rapist would be in for a big surprise. The big problem will be reactions to her. She’ll never be faithful; she’s in love with everybody equally.”
“Then we must place her in a position where she’s apparently free yet can be monitored. And we must make it clear that she is a ward of the company and that Security will come down hard on that sort of thing.”
“What d’ya want her to do—wear a warning sign?” somebody asked sarcastically.
Suzuki’s head shot up. “Perhaps that’s just what we need. Something that says simply, ‘Kitten—ward of Westrex,’ and the Security symbol. That and word of mouth should suffice. You remember that old proposal that everyone had their IDs tattooed on them in case of mishap. Stick it small on her rump. It won’t deface her, and if it bothers her, she might wear some clothes, but it’ll be clear to anyone we want to warn now and in the future.”
“Sounds like we’re turning people into cattle here,” somebody commented.
“Well, perhaps. But there’s a potential good end in all this, although it may never come to fruition. Suppose one day when we’re ready to solidify the bulk of the surface of this planet we can run a single master program that will make everyone physically, mentally, and emotionally perfect. No rapes, no murders, no wars or jealousies or cultural conflicts. We will be here, or our children will, long after our primary mission is solved. We are here to stay. We have never found Utopia because of humanity’s animal nature and its biochemistry. A Utopia imposed by humans will have all those human weaknesses and frailties. The Kagans for the first time make it a possibility, if we can learn enough and understand enough to write the programs correctly the first time. That’s why there will be more wards of the company. So we can learn how the interaction between computer and human mind works.”
“The van Haas’s and the Coydts will never let it happen, Doc,” one of the administrators noted. “Your Utopia isn’t mine, and neither of ours is certainly either of theirs.”