On Earth, a very ambitious and very young (like 30) news
reporter/intern (she'd been an intern since 2039) solved the niggling puzzle
that had been tugging at her powers of recognition. In the archives, in a scan of a microfiche
from an old "Global Enquiry Extra" supermarket-tabloid, she found the
only picture of Mickey that had ever been newsworthy -- his baby picture. The headline read:
Is this Jason
Hummer's Love Child?!
Subsequent research went on to reveal the gritty details of Mickey's
mother's lawsuit and the pittance that Hummer was finally forced to pay, after
she was no longer in "need" of child support and was not eligible for
retroactive reimbursement beyond her actual expenses.
Within 15 minutes, it was the lead story on the World News Stream
(WNS.news). Between the time the news
intern found the story and the anchor reported the story, the research team and
their computer reviewed the recordings of Mickey from the Waste-REL; generated
a 3D model of Mickey that they could program like any cyber-actor; synthesized
his voice based on the tape recorded samples from the Waste-REL maintenance
video stream; and found Feedbaq songs that Mickey once posted to Donny's
Web-site to make them easier for Lyle to download.
"This just in," said the news anchor while images of Mickey
fixing the Waste-REL's wiring played behind him. "Another WNS news exclusive: it has been
discovered that astronaut Mickey Humbolt, the young space worker on the missing
and considered lost Waste-REL, is the son of entertainment icon Jason
Hummer."
The anchor turned to look at the hologram projection behind him. "We've programmed a synthetic
representation of Mickey Humbolt to show you what he will be like if he is as
talented as his famous father. I want to
ask the Mickey Humbolt avatar a question.
Mickey, are you a performer?"
"Well," said the artificial 3D Mickey on the screen. "I have recorded Feedbaq music -- would
you like to hear it?"
"Yes, of course," said the anchor. "Let's hear it."
As the music played out -- it was a loud and aggressive number with a
lot of bass and drums and just the right piccolo harmony accompanying the
water-glass xylophone solo. As the music
played, the Mickey 3D hologram danced along, based on a pre-programmed dance
module that had been latched onto his new program. He danced quite well and his singing voice
was synthesized to be pitch perfect. Mickey
started to hum and sing along with his Feedbaq recording, though the words were
mostly unintelligible because the instruments were mixed too far forward. Of course, there was no way that the news
reporters could have known that the real Mickey was, in fact, pretty tone deaf
and couldn't keep a beat. His hologram
made him the Elvis Presley of 2044: Mickey gyrated his hips wildly while
swallowing Winky® sponge cakes in one gulp (though this was mostly
because Winky Snak Cakes were the sponsor of the newscast). Within the hour, the Webcast of the
artificial Mickey cyber-actor was licensed to the Routers Press and YooGooToo
Press Syndicate and every entertainment news organization across the world and
fifteen minutes after that, young girls were messaging each other's SPECTACLs
and insisting that their friends stream Mickey Humbolt's new Feedbaq
single. Within two hours of the WNS News
intern's discovery, Mickey Humbolt, son of Jason Hummer, was the biggest pop
star on the planet. The news
organization made a killing on the synthetic music video's licensing fee. The attendant controversy over rumors that Mickey was a Fullsenz junkie made
the cyber-actor, and by default the real Mickey, exotic rebels of the kind most
admired by teenage girls.
On board the Waste-REL,
everyone was awake, in his or her space suits, strapped in and ready to
go. Except the fuzzynavel was half a
light year away.
"So you have no method of propulsion?" asked the satellite
computer.
"No, we can maneuver about in orbit and perform the function for
which the craft was designed," said Portia. "That is, if you want us to clean up all
the space junk we brought with us."
"No," said the satellite.
"I don't think that will be necessary. It's just -- how are you going to slow down
on the other side of the fuzzy-navel?"
"How fast do we have to go?" asked Ayame.
"I can't believe this," said the satellite, suddenly
realizing its predicament. "I'm
going to have to go with you. That lying
old fuzzynavel-addict must have known -- ooo, that's just plain
dishonest."
"What are you talking about?" asked Jules.
"My boss," said the satellite. "He must have known I'd have to escort
you back. How else are you going to
brake when you get to the other side? Do
you want to do to your planet what you did to this one?"
The image of a massive crumble of continent sized debris, including
planetary mantle and cooling spheres of molten core, floated on the view
screens displayed before the Waste-REL's crew.
"Oh, no, of course not," said Portia, aghast. "Can you come with us?"
"Yes, I'm a fully functioning inter-navel craft," said the
Satellite. "It's just, I want to go
home!" He started bawling
miserably.
"Oh, the poor guy," said Jules.
"What, you're friends now?" asked Donny.
"Yeah, ever since he downloaded the contents of his main
database, we've been, you know, simpatico.
It really changed me. He's really
is a sweet guy and he's been so ill-used."
That's when Jules started to cry.
"Oh, come on now," said Verna. "This is absurd. We're sitting here waiting to go and the
computers are having a crying jag."
"Do we have to fly into the fuzzynavel at high speed?" asked
Ayame. "Can't you just escort us to
the door and let us go through it slowly?"
The Sagittarian satellite stopped crying. It was very binary that way. "Oh, wait -- probability analysis --
that's a good idea."
"You couldn't figure that out by yourself?" asked Verna.
"He's been under a lot of stress," whispered Jules. "And he's…." Jules started to lose
it again. "And he's grieving
…" Jules started to bawl his eyes
out again.
"What's his problem?" asked the Satellite.
"He lost a lot of friends yesterday," said Portia.
"Millions of them," whimpered Jules.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said the Satellite.
"It's okay," sobbed Jules.
"How could you know?"
"I'm supposed to be a UberQuantum computer -- I usually know
everything. I just want you to know that
I really am sorry to hear of your loss and if there's anything I can do…"
"Thanks," squeaked Jules.
"Thank you very much."
"Can we go now?" asked Verna.
"No," said Lyle, wearing the golden robe under his
spacesuit. "Take your time."
"We're leaving -- now," said the Satellite.
"We're leaving -- now," said the Satellite.
Next: Credit Card Slavery
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