The Ware Tetralogy - Rudy Rucker (popular ebook readers .TXT) 📗

Oh well. Come to think of it, if there were a Randy II, he’d be competing with Randy for Babs. Theodore was already trouble enough. Still, it would have been nice. Randy had grown up an only child; he’d always wished he had a sibling who understood him.

Just about then another thing about the alla’s behavior struck Randy. If he really had been dead and some other guy had picked up the alla, then maybe the alla would have actualized a fresh Randy, but more likely the new guy would have chosen to register the alla to himself.

Randy looked around, suddenly anxious that someone might be watching him. But he was alone at the edge of the bluff. There were a couple of liveboard surfers out in the ocean, but they were quite far away. But what if someone saw him use his alla and became maddened with the lust to own it—what if someone saw this wonderful tool and killed him to take it away?

The alla would offer the murderer a choice like, “Do you want to bring back the sap you just killed, or do you want to enjoy the endless power of this magic wand?” And of course the killer would choose the second option.

The alla would go ahead and register a new “user for life,” probably forgetting the old Randy Tucker body and mind pattern entirely.

This meant that once the news of allas and their transferability got out, owning an alla would become seriously hazardous to your health. To his health, and that of Yoke and Babs. There was a slight chance the “new you” option might still save your ass—but someone would have to like you enough to ask for it and, truth be told, it was hard to believe it would really work.

While he was thinking all this, Randy sent out a control mesh to alla-make a plug of sandy yellow rock to fill in the smooth square hole he’d punched out of the cliff. It was starting to get dark. He got onto a new copy of that same motorcycle and rode across the field toward the narrow track of Route 1, his electric motor loudly purring.

When he’d started out this morning he had a vague idea of visiting Aarbie Kidd down in Santa Cruz to look up some fresh hell to raise. But that would have been the vicious, self-destructive old Randy, the same guy who’d been using superleeches to kidnap moldies. And from now on, that Randy was history. He was going to make amends and do right by moldies and people alike. There was no reason to see Aarbie at all. Hell, if Aarbie saw his alla, he might kill him for it—and be able to start using it as his own. No point in him getting killed just when it was time to start a new life! The only place the new Randy wanted to go was back to San Francisco.

Randy tooled along northward, with the winter sun setting off  on his left. The thing to do was to go right back to the warehouse and make a serious play for Babs. Tell her that she was the nicest woman he’d ever met. Tell her he was sick of being a heartless crouched-over piece of wood. What would Babs say? It did seem like the girl was kind of sweet on him, at least it had at first. He just had to undo the damage of his camote trip and the realware snail. And, hey, yesterday had been pretty mellow, what with him, Babs, and Yoke making those plastic jellyfish. Maybe if he flat out spilled his heart, Babs would kick out Theodore and let him into her canopy bed.

Which led to a new problem. If it got down to the dirty, would he be able to have sex with a normal girl his age? Fella wouldn’t want to come up limp for a dynamo like Babs. That would be a real strike three for Bozo the country clown. Now, if Babs could see her way clear to her and him layin’ on a moldie rubber sheet, there’d be much less chance of a problem. And, you know, Babs had said something about not minding the smell of moldies. Her mother Wendy was supposed to be part moldie in some way.

Randy got kind of excited thinking about him and Babs on a Sammie-Jo. Yaaar. Just put some moldie-flesh in the picture and there’d be no doubt about what would occur. Not that he wanted to fall back into his old ways.

He was motoring in through the city now and it was dark. He had an intense desire to get laid. As he rolled into Babs’s neighborhood, he saw the lights of the _Anubis _by the side of the road. The great beached ship was alive with glowing moldies and capering revelers. Maybe he should pull on in there and rent some time with a moldie? He’d had quite a session with Isis the other day—but, no, that wasn’t the way he wanted to act anymore. With Babs he had, for the very first time, a real chance at a real woman. “Don’t lose it, Randy Karl,” he said aloud, motoring past the _Anubis _and toward Babs’s warehouse.

Just as he pulled into her street, he saw a funny-looking cartoon car go driving by. Babs in her new electric dune buggy. And next to her was that goddamn Theodore. Babs smiled and waved—and kept on driving.

“Babs!” said Randy, reaching out to her with an urgent uvvy call. Not wanting to lose sight of her, he swung his bike through a tight U-turn and began following her.

“Hey, Randy,” came Babs’s cozy voice on the uvvy. “Where’ve you been all day?” She turned a corner and drove in toward the city down Third Street. She didn’t realize yet that he was right behind her.

“I was cruising the coast. I was gonna see Aarbie Kidd, but I decided not to. I’m gonna change. I feel like I got off on the wrong foot with you, Babs. Are you coming back to the warehouse soon?”

“I’m just giving Theodore a ride to work. He has the evening shift at the Asiz Gallery. What’s on your tortured mind?”

“I figured out two things today, Babs. The first thing is about the—the ‘toy’ I got. I found out that if I die, the ‘toy’ will either make a copy of me or work just as well for the next person that picks it up.”

“Bizarre.” A long pause while Babs thought it over. “Good news and bad news, isn’t it? But I don’t think we should be discussing this on the uvvy.” Randy saw her glance into her rearview mirror. “Hey, is that you following me?”

“Right on your sweet tailfeather, baby. Look, I gotta tell you the second thing in person. Pull over, would you?”

“Okay.” Babs pulled her funny car over to the curb and hopped out. Theodore stayed in the car, looking anxious and annoyed. Randy parked his motorcycle and held out his arms to Babs. Babs took a few uncertain steps closer and spoke to him without benefit of the uvvy.

“What is it? I hope you’re not lifted again, Randy.”

“You’re—you’re not like any gal I ever met, Babs. I didn’t realize it at first, but I could really go for you.”

Babs blushed, glanced back at Theodore, took another step closer. “Are you serious?” A little smile played across her lips.

“I know I been acting screwed up. But you’re the only woman I could care about, Babs. I had me kind of a peculiar childhood. The cheeseball thing—well, I was thinking that your ma’s part moldie so maybe it’s okay. I mean if you and I was to—I’m just worried I might need some—well, if you wouldn’t mind layin’ on a moldie rubber sheet is—”

Babs’s voice was loud and hurt. “What do you think you’re talking about!”

“I’m gettin’ ahead of myself, sorry,” said Randy. “Just a-thinkin’ out loud. Don’t sweat the details, right? You and me, Babs, we got a future, huh? It’ll work. You’re the best gal I ever met. I’m just a-scared I’ll blow it.”

“Are you all right, Babs?” called Theodore, getting out of the car.

“Yes, yes,” said Babs. “Just a second.”

“Don’t go off with Theodore now, Babs,” begged Randy. “We gotta talk some more.”

“How did you find out about what your alla does if you die?” whispered Babs. “Is what you said really true?”

“You’re going to make me late,” said Theodore, walking over. “Hi, Tucker. Seen any giant snails today?”

“Oh, leave Randy alone,” said Babs. “Look, Theodore, you just take my car for now. In fact, keep it overnight and show it to Kundry Asiz tomorrow and see if she’ll take it for the gallery. I talked to Kundry on the uvvy about it already, and I think she’s interested.”

“But—”

“Something’s come up,” said Babs, and gave Theodore a peck on the cheek. “Bye. I’ll uvvy you tomorrow.”

So Babs got on the back of Randy’s motorcycle and rode back to her warehouse with him.

“One thing,” she said as they got off the bike. “I am not going to fuck you on any gross moldie sheet. Not that I’m saying I’d fuck you at all. Hi, Cobb.”

“Back so soon?” Cobb was slouched in the warehouse doorway, sort of guarding the place. “Yoke was just saying maybe she should go back to the Moon. Talking to her sister made her homesick. Hi, Randy, good to see you. You don’t want to go to the Moon yet, do you? There’s too much happening down here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I feel like things are just starting,” said Randy. “Hey, come on inside, Cobb, we four oughtta have a little talk. If Yoke can lay off raggin’ me.”

“Help,” hollered Yoke, seeing Randy in the doorway. “The attack of the giant snail!”

“I’m gonna whomp your butt!” shouted Randy, charging after her. He was tired of drag-assing around and being humble. Yoke shrieked and ran, firing off a few hydrogen-oxygen air-bombs in her wake. Randy alla-made a big cushion right in front of Yoke, and she stumbled over it. He stood over her, with Willa Jean loyally at his side. “You’ve teased me enough, Yoke. I know I done acted like a clown, but I’m gonna be different now. You hear that, Cobb and Babs? I’m gonna be a new man. Worthy of my great-grandpa, and worthy of the woman I love.”

“Huh?” said Yoke.

Babs walked over and put her arm around Randy’s waist. “I think Randy’s cute. So be nice to him.”

Randy smiled and kissed Babs’s cheek, then went ahead and threw both arms around her to give her a full-body hug. As he hugged her and inhaled her warm fragrance, he realized that, if he ever got her into bed, he wasn’t going to be needing any sex-aids.

“Okay,” said Babs, worming away. “But now we better talk about the alla thing you mentioned before.”

So Randy told the other three about how he’d learned that an alla would freshly re-register itself to whoever next picked it up after its last owner died—although there was supposedly a possibility that it could instead actualize a fresh copy of you.

“So in this fairy tale, the greedy peasant who kills the golden goose gets the goose’s powers,” said Yoke. “Xoxx it.”

“Unless he chooses to actualize a fresh, live instance of the goose,” pointed out Babs.

“Me, I’ve known my share of peasants,” said Randy. “Ain’t no peasant in the world would ever wish that goose back.”