Astrid Maxxim and her Amazing Hoverbike – Chapter 2 Excerpt

Astrid Maxxim CoverDespite Astrid’s assertion, it wasn’t really all that hard to get around at Maxxim Industries. It was a ten minute walk from the R&D building to the monorail station. The five teens boarded the sleek elevated train which ran all over the campus as well as to the neighboring town of Maxxim City, where they all lived. Once they stepped off the train it was a twenty minute walk home to Acacia Avenue, where both the Maxxim and Bundersmith homes were located.

They spent the afternoon swimming under the watchful eye of Mrs. Gerta Bundersmith, Toby’s great aunt, who had come to live with him and his father two years before, when they had lost his mother to cancer. Astrid arrived home in plenty of time for dinner, and thanks to three phone calls and Mrs. Purcell, her father made it too, only five minutes late.

Astrid would gladly have spent her Sunday at the lab, and she usually did, but this Sunday the R&D was completely shut down for a seminar two miles away at the Advanced Research Institute. So, she spent most of the day in her room on her computer. She had a paper on Quantum Theory for her physics class due in two weeks anyway, and she didn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it. Every so often the computer would chime and she would read a message from Denise, answer it, and return to her work. Most of Denise’s messages were questions about which of the most popular boy singers would look best on her arm at the Spring Fling. Astrid in turn, pointed out that it was no more likely that any famous singer would be visiting Rachel Carson High School on the day of the Spring Fling than it had been on the day of the Freshman Mixer, Sadie Hawkins Day, or the Winter Festival.

Astrid woke up the next morning to the sound of the alarm clock. She showered and did her hair, pulled on her skirt, shirt, and tie; socks and shoes; and blue uniform blazer, and would have bounded right out the door with her backpack, if only her mother hadn’t insisted she stop and eat breakfast. French toast was not the breakfast for someone who was excited to be on their way, but she had to sit. Her father read the news from his digital tablet as he absentmindedly dunked his French toast in his coffee instead of his syrup. Her mother watched her like a hawk from the other side of the table to make sure that she ate.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” called Astrid, as she shot toward the door after the required minimum seven bites.

“Learn stuff!” called Dr. Maxxim.

“Stay out of trouble!” called her mom.

As always, Toby was waiting for her at the sidewalk, right where the massive row of poplar trees divided the Maxxim property from the Bundersmith property. His uniform was neatly pressed and his hair was slicked back. He carried his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“You look nice,” said Astrid.

“Really? You don’t think I look stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“Great aunt Gerta put this stuff in my hair.”

“Is it like gel?”

“No, it’s like axel grease,” he replied.

“Well, you look fine.”

They walked the carefully cultivated sidewalk, shaded by overhanging trees, until they reached the corner of Fourth Street, where they found Denise waiting in front of her house. Christopher lived two blocks further down, and was waiting for them at the corner of Cyprus Avenue. From there it was a short block south to Fifth, where Valerie lived. Valerie, who all agreed spent an inordinate amount of time on her hair, was always late and today was no exception. But ten minutes later, they arrived at Main Street and climbed aboard the monorail train that took them to school.

Rachel Carson High School was not actually in the city at all, but sat just inside the border of the Maxxim Industries campus. It was a large, three-story, modern structure with its own internal monorail station on the top floor. As they stepped out of the train, the five teens gave each other a quick wave and hurried toward their classes.

Astrid and Christopher were both on program one, so they had the same classes, except third period when she had Physics and he had Chemistry, and fifth period when she had Biology and he had Geology. Denise and Valerie were both on program five, so they spent their day together. Astrid got to see Denise in first period because she was in English Composition with her and Christopher, but she didn’t have a single class with Valerie. The only class she shared with Toby, who was on program seven, was seventh period when they were together in Fencing.

Even though they spent a great deal of time away from each other during the day, the whole gang always got together in the Quad at 12:00 for lunch. Astrid had been looking forward to lunch since she read the menu that morning just after the Pledge of Allegiance—Sicilian broccoli and cauliflower pasta with pine nuts, whole grain garlic bread, tossed salad, and yogurt parfait. Toby, Denise, and Valerie were already sitting at their usual table when she and Christopher sat down.

“So, how’s it going?” asked Toby.

“Fine,” said Christopher and everyone agreed.

“I heard Mr. Kramer is sick,” said Valerie. “I guess we’ll have a substitute today.”

“I don’t like substitutes,” said Denise. “We always end up behind. Then we have to work all that much harder the rest of the week.”

“You won’t get behind today,” said Toby. “My dad is your sub today, so count on extra homework.” He laughed. “I’m glad I don’t have Geometry.”

“You just wait,” said Valerie. “When my dad subs, he’ll have you swimming extra laps.”

At Rachel Carson High School, all parents were required to serve six days a year as faculty or staff members. For Toby’s father, who was a structural engineer, that usually meant teaching Math. Valerie’s father, head of security for Maxxim Industries, usually either taught a Physical Education class or served as a school safety officer.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” wondered Denise, indicating a table across the Quad from where they sat.

“It looks like Mark McGovern is picking on that kid,” said Christopher. “He picked on me last year because I have dark skin.”

“He picked on me because my mother is from Mexico,” said Valerie.

“He picked on me because I have two dads,” said Denise.

“He calls me a nerd all the time,” said Astrid.

Settings: More Robot Stuff

His Robot GirlfriendHere are a few more details about the world of His Robot Wife and His Robot Girlfriend.

One of the main background events in His Robot Girlfriend is the presidential election. I used random names for the presidential candidates, but one of the vice-presidential candidates was named for a teacher I work with. That was years ago, and she’s moved on now.  We have huge turnovers in our school district.  But I’m still there.  I got my 20 year pin this week, even though I’m three fourths of the way through my 22nd year.

One of the details that I was really proud of was the payNETime acount. I needed something that was a cross between Paypal and the broader banking world. PayNETime is pronounced “pay any time” and it spells NET in the middle. I was really proud of myself on this one.

Mike and Patience live at 11 North Willow. During my high school years, I lived at 11 Cottonwood.

The two main robot manufacturers are Gizmo and Daffodil. Gizmo is another word for mechanism, of course. Daffodil is the flower and is meant to evoke the idea of Apple. There are numerous little parallels between Gizmo/Daffodil and IBM/Apple. Add to that Daffodil is in Cupertino.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 5 Excerpt

His Robot WifeMike decided that their adventure would begin on Tuesday and that he and Patience would spend three or four days on the road—depending on how much fun he was having. Monday therefore was spent getting their things ready. Patience did most of the work, packing and loading, and even reprogramming the sentry system to account for their absence. Mike called Harriet to let her know that he was going to be out of town and to check on how she felt. Neither mentioned the unpleasantness of the previous day. Secure in the knowledge that everything had been taken care of, that night he played a long session of Age of Destruction before watching Celebrity Rat Race.

Mike planned on spending the first day and night in Carlsbad, which was only a three hour drive away, so he didn’t bother getting up early. They left the house just after nine and pulled off of I5 and onto Carlsbad Village Drive just after noon. Relatively few cars were on the streets of the village, in marked contrast to the last time that Mike had visited, five years before. He tried to remember if that had been a weekday or the weekend, but he couldn’t recall. Patience had been quiet for the past several minutes, but suddenly spoke up.

“That’s where I bought your swimsuit the last time we were here.”

“Is it? Yes, I guess it is. Did you bring the suits?”

“I recycled those suits 567 days ago. I purchased new suits on the Infinet.”

“Five hundred sixty seven days? That’s an odd way of saying it? Why not say one year and this many months and this many days?”

“I was trying to make it simple,” said Patience. “If you prefer, I can describe the time passage as one year, six months, nineteen days, four hours, nineteen minutes, and thirty two seconds.”

“And what good would that do me?”

“None, which is precisely my point. Besides, we’re not going into the water, at least not here. You could get your genitals bit off by a very large squid.”

“I don’t think that happens very often,” said Mike.

“It’s happened more than once, so it’s something to be worried about. And no sunbathing either. If we go out on the sand, you wear the required SPF 210 sunblock.”

Carlsbad was not a very large town and so Mike was able to reach the location of the hotel in which he had previously stayed, driving the narrow and winding streets at thirty miles per hour, in less than twenty minutes. He stopped the car and climbed out, his mouth open wide in surprise. The little inn on Ocean Street that had been his accommodations every time he had visited, since the early days of his marriage to Tiffany was gone. The little hotel had leaned against the side of the hill so that its landward side had only one story, while its seaward side had three stories, the bottom one resting right on the beach. In its place was a tall black tower.

“Shit. When did that get here?”

“It’s new.”

Mike looked left and right. Though this was the only such tower, the lots to either side were now construction sites, the small inns and condos for rent all gone. He leaned his head back and looked up.

“I don’t know if I want to stay here.”

Details – Voting in the Future

His Robot GirlfriendSo many things in His Robot Girlfriend were not that different than in our own times (because I don’t think the 2030s will really be all that different), that I struggled to add a few fantastic elements. It is after all, a science fiction story.

One area that I changed up quite a bit from our present world was the presidential election that is occurring in the background of the story. I made three parties the status quo in the stories, not because I’m an advocate of the Green Party (who is the third along with the Democrats and Republicans), though I do consider myself an environmentalist, but I just thought three parties would be more interesting. I don’t think America will ever have more than two major parties (the 1912 election nowithstanding). I also gave the US 57 states, including Cuba– also pretty unlikely– though maybe not as unlikely as when I wrote it.

Some reforms that I added that I do think might happen, and would be welcome, are Internet voting, and a single election time across the nation. In the story, voting occurs between 7AM Eastern Time and 7PM Pacific Time. Though states are currently firmly in control of election procedures, with the rate of technological change, I could see both of these things happening.

As always though, I chose these things not because I like the idea myself, but because I thought it was more interesting for the story. If you haven’t read His Robot Girlfriend, check it out. It’s free just about anywhere you can find ebooks, and has been downloaded to date 444,769 times.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 3 Excerpt

His Robot WifePatience’s anger seemingly dissolved just as Mike was getting into bed. By that time he had decided that he was looking forward to robot make-up sex. It turned out that it was just as fantastic as sex always was with his robot wife, but not any more fantastic. He fell asleep pondering the possibility that he had missed his only chance at angry robot sex. He woke up the next morning to find her lying next to him, lightly snoring.

“Oh, wake up.”

“Good morning,” she said, jumping to her feet. “What would you like for breakfast, a vegetable omelet?”

“Wait a second. Don’t we need to talk? We’ve just had our first fight.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Now that I think about it, that has to be some kind of record— five years before a married couple has a fight.”

“I didn’t come programmed to be a wife,” said Patience. “I’m learning as I go along.”

“That’s only natural. It… wait a second. Are you saying that you programmed yourself to get angry?”

“Of course,” she replied. “If I never got angry then I wouldn’t be able to fight with you.”

“Why would you want to fight with me?”

“We’re married, Mike. Married people fight.”

“They do?”

“That’s what all the literature says.”

“And how did you know how long to stay angry?” he asked, climbing out of bed.

“One mustn’t go to bed angry, Mike. I’m not sure why.”

Settings: Mansfield Perk

His Robot Wife: Patience is a VirtueIn the His Robot Girlfriend books and the upcoming His Robot Wife: A Great Deal of Patience, the local coffee establishment is based on the world of Jane Austen and is called Mansfield Perk. I admit that when I thought it up, I thought it was far more clever than it probably is.

A friend once asked me why Starbuck’s was named after a character from Moby Dick. Did Starbuck drink a lot of coffee? I used that conversation in His Robot Wife. I also used an experience I myself had at Starbucks, when the barrista asked if she could “try something” and made me a bizarre frappuccino concoction. In the story, she makes ice tea. This came from a British cooking show I once watched where the chef made “American Ice Tea” which bore no resemblence to anything I’ve ever seen an American drink. It was mostly orange juice with about 5 lbs. of mint stuck in it.

There are probably more of my own experiences in the Robot series than any of my other books. This is because Mike, the main character is more like me than any other character that I’ve created. There are characters I wish I was more like, but I’m not.

His Robot Wife – Chapter 2 Excerpt

His Robot WifeHaving no real idea where he was heading, Mike drove down the familiar streets of Springdale. He passed dozens of fast food restaurants and though he wasn’t hungry, thought about stopping for a drink. They all looked incredibly busy though, and he didn’t want to have to sit in a crowd. Then he noticed a new coffee shop in the Springdale shopping center. Pulling into the parking lot he marveled that there were so few cars, but then noticed that Starbucks about a hundred yards away was having some kind of promotion that involved a large inflatable mermaid on the roof. He parked and crossed the blisteringly hot parking lot.

TexTee in hand, Mike entered through the front door of Mansfield Perk. The inside was lavishly decorated in faux Regency English style with white table linens and doilies. Behind the counter was a young woman, her hair in a bun, wearing an Empire line dress dotted with little roses, and a young man with curly hair and long sideburns wearing a burgundy waistcoat and knotted white cravat.

“Good day to you, sir,” said the young woman with a curtsey. “It was so lovely you could come visiting on this day.”

“Thanks,” replied Mike, looking up at the menu written in chalk on a black slate board. “Elizabeth Bennet’s Black? Mr. Darcy’s Mochachino? What have you got that’s cool? Iced Tea?”

“Yes, sir. We have the world’s best iced teas. What kind of tea do you prefer?”

“Um, I’m not really sure.”

“Could I try something?” she asked.

Mike waited for several seconds to hear what she wanted to try, but when she didn’t elaborate, he said. “Okay.”

“You’ll like it. I promise.” Then she hurried around the corner to the back room to “try something.”

“Mindless drones,” said the young man behind the counter.

Mike followed his gaze to the Starbucks.

“What do mermaids have to do with coffee anyway?”

“It’s the book,” offered Mike. “Moby Dick. That’s where the name Starbuck comes from.”

“Does Starbuck drink a lot of coffee in Moby Dick?”

“No, I don’t think so—just the usual amount one would drink as a sailor I guess.”

“Well then, it’s a stupid name for a coffee shop.”

Mike thought about mentioning that there were probably at least as many references to coffee in Herman Melville’s work as there were in all of Jane Austen’s, but he held his tongue. Just then the girl returned with a large glass filled with an orange beverage that could in no way have been iced tea, with twenty or so foot long sprigs of mint sticking from the top.  Taking the glass, he found a spot in the corner and sat down, leaned his texTee up against a sugar bowl and fished the mint out of his drink.

So far as he could tell, the drink was about ninety percent orange juice. If there was any tea at all in it, it was vastly overpowered by citrus. It was cool though. And sweet. And minty.

“News,” he said and the small screen in front of him came to life, filled mostly with text, but a window in the top right corner was occupied by a broadcast correspondent. “No. No. Text only. Headlines.”

He silently scanned through the headlines. “President Mendoza tours Antarctic factories.” “India and Iran will host the 2038 and 2039 world cups.” “Vice President McPhee questions the sincerity of Democrats regarding cutting the budget.” “Sixty four people killed in Bosnian hotel fire.” “Court rules sex with a child-like robot does not violate pedophilia laws.” “Great white sightings may be a sign that sharks are not extinct.” “Daffodil touts benefits of BioSoft 1.9.3.”

Tesla’s Stepdaughters – Chapter 7 Excerpt

Tesla's Stepdaughters“So, Piffy told me your name is John,” she said, while they were waiting for their food. “May I call you John?”

“Of course. What else did she tell you?”

“Oh, everything. Women tell each other everything. We talk all the time, the four of us even more so.”

“Really? I was not aware of that.” He rubbed his chin. “I really don’t know about this. I mean about today. You seem very nice and all. I had this connection with Piffy and I was looking forward to finding out where it led. I wasn’t planning to sex my way through the entire tour company.”

“Of course you weren’t. And maybe we won’t even like each other. But maybe we will and maybe you’ll like Penny and Steffie too. We’re all really close, closer than we were back when we were starting out. Maybe we needed a few years apart to mature. I know Penny’s already planning on moving back to Thatch Cay, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Steffie brought her boy to live with her there too at least part of the year.”

“That’s great, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Sure it does. Since we’re all so close, it would be much easier to have the four of us as wives rather than trying to make it work with strangers.”

“Wives? I don’t want wives. I’m not sure I want even one wife.”

“You told Steffie that she could be a poster child for mothering a boy. Well, for better or worse, multi-marriage is going to be the type of marriage that most women have for the foreseeable future.”

“Polygamy. You think most women will approve of that?”

“With one man on Earth for every two hundred fifty women? I would imagine so.”

“Well that’s fine for women everywhere, but I don’t know that it’s for me.”

They stopped talking while the waitress set their food on the table, then continued between bites.

“You seem like you’re all ready to get married and aren’t too picky about to whom.”

“I’m thirty-one next month,” said Ruth. “So I can’t afford to wait too long unless I want a vat baby, and none of us can afford to be too picky. But you are a very pretty man. And I remember how happy my parents were.”

After breakfast, Andrews ordered a

Tesla’s Stepdaughters – Chapter 5 Excerpt

Tesla's Stepdaughters“Agent Andrews…” two of the women started at once, and then looked at each other.

“If you’re not doing anything for dinner…” one of them continued.

“I’m sorry ladies, but my partner has a meeting,” said Wright. “I however, would be happy to escort any or all of you to dinner.”

“I have a meeting?” Andrews leaned over and asked.

“In the lobby.”

The lobby of the Grace Coolidge international building, though Spartan, was large. It took a minute for Andrews to find his appointment waiting by feet of the statue of Justice. He almost didn’t recognize Ep!phanee. She was dressed in faded jeans and a Nehi Blue Cream Soda tee shirt. Her hair was tucked up under a black military cap.

“Is somebody here with you?” he asked.

“Nope. I ditched the cops back at the hotel. Buy me a hotdog.”

“You shouldn’t be running around town without an escort.”

“Well I have one now. Besides, I just want a hotdog. There’s a hotdog cart just down on the corner. I saw it on the cab ride over here.”

She took him by the arm and led him to the glass enclosed front of the building, holding the door open for him. The hotdog vendor was stationed just where she had described, a chubby little woman with a striped shirt, a large stain covering most of the front.

“Two dogs,” Ep!phanee ordered, then turned to Andrews. “What do you want on yours?”

“I don’t know; whatever’s customary.”

“Haven’t you ever had a hotdog before?”

He shook his head. “German food’s not very popular in the enclaves.”

“Hotdogs are as American as apple pie. All right. Bacon, beans, avocado, catsup, and mayonnaise. Do you want jalapenos?”

“Yes please.”

“So you don’t have street food in the enclaves?”

“Sure. Tacos– usually fish tacos, but sometimes grilled shrimp.”

The vendor handed Piffy the hotdogs, already loaded with beans and avocado. Stepping to the end of the cart, she scooped on the jalapenos and then squirted on squiggly lines of red catsup and white mayonnaise. Handing one of the dogs to Andrews, she watched as he took a tentative bite. She then opened her mouth wide and shoved in about a third of hers.

“Good huh?” she asked, her mouth full.

He nodded and then took another bite. Ep!phanee began strolling down the sidewalk and even though she was moving slowly Andrews had to take a few quick steps to keep up. He was still eating his hotdog as they walked, being careful not to spill the condiments on his jacket. She finished first and dropped the little paper hotdog caddie in a trashcan beside the street.

“I should get you back to the hotel.”

“I’m staying in this hotel now.”

Andrews looked skyward to find that they were in front of the Palmer House. When he looked back down, Ep!phanee was already going through the revolving door. He stuffed the last bit of hotdog into his mouth and dropped the paper waste in a can beside the door, following her. The lobby was huge, with a tiled vaulted ceiling that looked like it belonged in a cathedral. Andrews felt self-conscious even walking on the rugs.

“Why are you staying here?”

“We have two more days in Chicago. I’ll go crazy if I’m cooped up with the girls the whole time.”

“You have two entire suites at the American. And it’s under complete police protection.”

“I’ve got my own suite here.” She twirled around a few times but kept on course for the elevator. “It’s the same one Ulysses S. Grant stayed in. He used to be on money, you know.”

She skipped into the elevator and he followed. An attendant, a small woman in a tight red uniform, was waiting inside.

“Twenty-fifth floor,” said Ep!phanee.

The attendant nodded, and then turned the lever sending the car gliding swiftly upwards.

“Ulysses S. Grant died in 1885,” said Andrews. “There weren’t any twenty-five story buildings in Chicago then.”

“I think I feel his presence though.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tesla’s Stepdaughters: Tacos and Hot Dogs

Tesla's StepdaughtersOne of the little details in Tesla’s Stepdaughters is a little Freudian reference that I just couldn’t help myself from throwing in.

Tesla’s Stepdaughters is a sci-fi story set in an alternate world where men and women have been segregated from one another for more than forty years. Women live much as they do today, while men are collected in enclaves in the far southern tips of Africa, South America, and Australia. This is a result of germ warfare (in their WWI) that eradicated the majority of men in the world.

Part of the story involved the characters buying street food. The men, living in South America and not liking anything German (because German scientist caused the germ warfare) would never have adopted hot dogs, like they did in the US. So I had them eating tacos. I was going to have the women, living in what is essentially our world, eating hamburgers, but then I realized the Freudianism of it all. With hot dogs and tacos frequently used as euphamisms form male and female genetalia, I just couldn’t resist making those the dominant fast food varieties.