“It’s beautiful.” “Yes, Bob is one of the better artists working in the medium. We handle some other scrims handers who are also very good–Karst, Benade, Stahl, Bellet, Dietrich, even Apple Stephens–but Bob’s work is not only beautiful, it’s still reasonably priced. He does a lot of custom commissions on things like knife handles and gun grips.” “How much?” Alex asked.
“Eight hundred for this one.” “We’ll take it,” he said.
“No, Alex, we can’t–” “Yes, we can.
It’ll be your wedding present.” “But–” “I made a good profit on my last car restoration. We can afford it.” As she packaged the scrimshaw and ran Alex’s credit card, the manager said to Toni, “If you are ever interested in seeing how he does it. Bob teaches an on-line course.” At the time, Toni had nodded and murmured something polite, not thinking such artwork would ever be something she’d have time for.
As she walked through the virtual mall, she smiled to herself. Well, she had time now. Plenty of time. She was supposed to sit around and twiddle her thumbs for the next four months, and even if she wanted to practice her silat, she was, for all practical purposes, a beached whale.
She’d just flop around on the sand if she tried to do anything physical, she could already see that, and she was only five months along. At seven or eight months, dropping into a djuru turn was just not going to be in the cards. But sitting at a table and scratching on a piece of faux ivory with a pin? She could do that, and the idea of creating something anywhere close to as beautiful as that tiny scrimshaw Alex had bought for her was appealing.
Of course, she didn’t really have much artistic talent, but maybe she could learn. It was worth a shot.
She arrived in front of a small shop. On the window it said, Bob Hergert, Microscrimshaw– www.scrimshander com.
Toni took a deep breath, let it out, and walked into the shop.
Inside, the place was neat and well laid out.
There were glass-topped cases with pieces of ivory on black velvet, everything from knife handles, gun grips, and billiard balls to larger framed pieces. Several magnifying glasses on little stands had been set up on the glass so that the smaller pieces under them were easier to see.
An electric guitar hung on the wall behind the longest counter. Toni didn’t know from guitars, but there was an ivory plate on the body of the instrument, and she recognized the man’s face lovingly engraved upon the plate.
A medium-sized man with a thick mustache came out of the back and smiled at Toni.
“The King,” he said.
“When he was in his prime. About 1970 or so, the television concert where he wore the black leather suit.” Toni nodded.
“I bought one of your pieces in Hawaii,” she said.
“A naked woman sitting in a lotus pose, floating in the air.” “Ah,” he said.
“Cynthia, the Goddess of the Moon. I enjoyed doing that one. How can I help you, Mrs…. ah … ?” “Michaels,” she said, still feeling somewhat strange about using Alex’s name that way.
“Toni.” “Toni. Nice to meet you.” “I understand you give lessons in how to do this.” She waved, taking in the shop’s interior.
“Yes, ma’am, I surely do.” “I’d like to sign up, if I could.” “No problem at all, Toni.” They smiled at each other.
New Acquisitions Warehouse, Net Force HQ, Quantico, Virginia “You look like hell, Julio.” “Thank you. General Howard, sir, for your astute observation.” “What happened?” “I was up half Sunday night feeding the baby.
Your godson.” “I thought Joanna was breast-feeding.” “Yeah, she is. But somebody told her about a little pump that lets you take mama’s milk out of the original container and put it into little bottles. That way the father can be part of the suckling process.” “Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell her.” “No, it was Nadine, your lovely wife, who was the snake in the garden.” Howard laughed.
“Well, you know how women are.
Never let a man spend too much time getting by with something.” “Amen.” “So, what are we looking at this fine morning.
Sergeant Fernandez ?” “Three new items of field gear unrelated to weaponry, sir.” Howard glanced around the inside of the small storage warehouse. There were crates, boxes, and items covered with tarps, the usual.
“Proceed.” “Over here, we have our new tactical computer units, supposedly shockproof backpackers that will plug into the SIPE-SUITS. Seven pounds, more FlashMem, DRAM, and FROM than a high school computer lab and faster than greased lightning.
Ceramic armor and spider silk webbing, all bullet-resistant and waterproof and like that. I turned one on and dropped it on the floor from chest height, and it still ran fine. Twelve-hour batteries the size of D cells, so you can carry a few days’ backup without recharging, no problem.” “Good, about time they came up with something that didn’t go down every time somebody sneezed. What else?” “Right this way. This here is our emergency broadcast jammer, which will supposedly make any radio inside a ten-kilometer circle spew static and nothing else. Doesn’t work on LOS infra or ultra headcoms. They say it’d stop KAAY in Little Rock at its peak, but I haven’t tested it yet.” “Bad guys use LOS, too.” “What can I say? This is RA stuff. You know how they are.” Howard nodded. Regular Army did have its own whys and wherefores. He’d been there, done that, and was much happier being the head of Net Force’s military arm, such as it was. He had expected it to be a lot more quiet than when he was a colonel in the RA, but in the last year or so, it sure had been anything but that. In fact, after his last fracas, he’d been thinking about retiring. He still ached from his wounds when it got chilly, and the idea of not being around to see his son grow up bothered him a lot.
Julio kept talking: “And under this here cover, we have the toy of the week.
Ta-da!” He pulled the lightweight tarp off, revealing what looked like a table with four jointed arms sticking up from it, two in the corners at one end, two more in the middle. The thing had wheels and a closed compartment under it.
“And what is this? A high-tech electric golf cart?” “No, sir, this is Rocky Scram–that’s R-0Can-CS-RM, the acronym standing for Remote-Operated, Computer Controlled Surgical Robotic Module.” Howard frowned.
“We talking about a doc-in the-box?” “Actually, a surgeon-in-the-box, only this is just the box. You’re gonna love this one, it actually might be useful.” “Talk to me.” “Here’s the deal. You need a surgical PA, couple nurses, and orderlies. They set this sucker up in a field hospital. Guy comes in, all shot up, needs fixin’. The PA–THAT’S physician’s assistant, for those of you who missed the medical personnel lecture–does a triage, examines the guy, and makes a quick diagnosis. They plunk him on the table, get him prepped, and dial up a first-class REMF surgeon, who can be up to a thousand miles away, give or take. He cranks up his unit–that part is over here, come look.” They walked to another covered unit, and Julio removed a tarp from it. There was a chair, a computer screen mounted in front of it on a platform, and some odd-looking appendages on the arms of the chair.
“Your surgeon sits here and slips his fingers into the surgical controls, that’s these rings here. He uses his feet on pedals down on the floor, one each, with a freeze pedal in the middle, kind of like a brake.” Julio sat in the chair and slipped his fingers into the jointed ring arrangements. The computer screen lit up.
“These control the waldos, those are tools you can connect to those arms on the operating table. Left foot runs the endoscope, which holds your light and your camera. Right foot works various clamps and suction things. The hand tools will hold scalpels, hemostats, suture needles, scissors, and a bunch of other things.” “You’re telling me a surgeon can operate on a patient from a thousand miles away using this gadget?” “Yes,-sir, that’s what the RA medicos say.
“It’s all self-contained, battery backup if you can’t get a generator going. Wheel it out there, slap “em on the table, and you cut and paste.” “Good Lord.” “Yes sir, I expect He is impressed.” “Downside?” “Heavy, expensive–million and half a copy–and you need a repair tech who’s qualified to service ’em if they break down. Still, RA figures it’s cheaper than training and replacing a surgeon who catches a stray round on the way to do his cutting.” “Good point.” “There’s a civilian model been around for a while, but it’s not so compact, and it ain’t portable.” “Amazing.” “Ain’t it, though? Now, if the general is through being impressed with modern hardware, I’d like to go catch a nap.” “Go ahead. Sergeant. Oh. Wait. Hold up a second. I got something for you.” Howard grinned. He was going to like what he was about to do. He was going to like it a whole lot.