Reka's Point of View
The Department of Energy van pulled out of their driveway and Reka checked their finances on her phone.
Another successful transaction, she thought, satisfied. The question of what to do with all this money was going to be a problem.
Brad was enjoying his new amusement, some manner of arcane projection that allowed him to control an animated vehicle and compete in races. Reka found it pleasing to the eye. She sat down next to him as close as possible, taking care to press her breast to him as he liked, and rested her head on his shoulder. The action was lively enough, allowing her mind to get lost in his charming game.
Alice was with them today; she looked well, her face a mask of concentration as she conducted a war of words against that mendacious bard, Elron Trask. Her transition from blademaster to monk was coming along, the telltale marks of rigorous training at the "MMA gym" apparent for all to see. Perhaps a guard for Brad, she thought idly. There was something about the girl that interested her in any case.
She considered Stacy and Olivia and Andy fine, reliable servants, but they were no warriors. This world lacked warriors, as a general rule. Her beloved was a warrior after a fashion, sailing a warship as he did, but it was not war as she knew it. Sailors, Brad had explained, "fight the ship". That is, it is the ship that fights, and the sailors control her in the fight. Machines mattered more than individual skill.
And what of Alice? She had admirably crafted her own body into a living weapon, a rare thing in a world of machines. The girl might make a fine general in her legions, if it came to that.
"Sold another one?" her love asked between races. He was improving. Soon Brad would be champion, she had every confidence.
"Just so, my love," she answered gratefully. "It was your handiness with the universal artificer that allowed us to increase production, you know." Brad really was so talented.
"I noticed you don't have to get up in the middle of the night to work anymore," her fiance said conversationally. "I guess the little robot does it now?"
Alice's head shot up at that comment, her phone forgotten.
Brad winced, as if he had said too much. "Alice, I didn't see you there"
"Oh, uh, don't mind me, Mr. Regis," Alice stammered.
The girl was physically strong but mentally weak, perhaps not a general, Reka considered.
Sensing Brad's unease, she squeezed herself tighter against him in comfort. "You didn't say anything wrong, Brad."
Her fiance whispered into her ear. "But I might have. Sometimes I forget other people are in the house. We shouldn't discuss what we do at night with other people around."
Her man was blushing delightfully; it really was nothing, though. "It's no great matter, my love. You can speak of how I was processing the crystals manually at night before we automated the process. Alice is under that 'NDA' Julie mentioned. There's no problem at all."
"Okay, honey," he said submissively, starting up another race.
They played together for a while, Brad driving and her watching, just enjoying being together, until Reka recalled the day.
"The party is tonight," she reminded him. "We'll be meeting the top guild masters in the valley of silicon. No doubt they'll be courting us fiercely now that production has increased. The thinking machines are thirsty for power, after all."
"That's right," Brad said reluctantly. "That is tonight. We can't just make crystals and print money forever. Well, we can...but anything that isn't growing is dying, right?"
What a delightful turn of phrase!
"As you say, my love. We must grow, and that means socializing with the great and good."
There was much to consider. Galiban needed a physical body, and a phylactery to contain his expanding consciousness. Once that was accomplished, he could work with Julie in their new department. Oh, her friend would be so excited once she learned what they had planned!
The rest of the team was out today; it was just her, Brad, Alice, and of course Galiban, who could not yet leave his workshop.
Reka wondered if Alice liked pretty or cute things. Warriors often had a hidden soft side, she found.
"Alice," she said kindly, mindful of the girl's skittish nature, "would you like to help me pick out my dress for the party?" Stacy and Olivia would be painfully jealous, but it would be nice to get to know the quiet girl a little better without her voice getting drowned out by the more fanatical cultists.
The sweetheart froze in panic, but mastered it, working up the courage to nod mutely.
What a brave girl, Reka thought.
She and Brad rose at once, heading up the stairs with quiet Alice trailing behind.
Throwing open her closet, Reka began laying fine gowns down on the bed she shared with Brad, the "King of California" it was called.
"Any thoughts, dear?" Reka asked. "Shall I try one on and let you have a look?"
Alice was shaking a bit, but her inner warrior won through. "Is...is Mr. Regis going to be here the whole time while you're trying on dresses?"
"Why wouldn't he be?" Reka asked in confusion. "These are our private chambers, where we make love. Modesty has no place here."
The girl blushed prettily, seemingly at her limit.
"Alice, if you're uncomfortable with this you don't have to stay. You're not being paid to be a fashion consultant," her fiance said kindly.
She took a calming breath. "No," she forced out. "I want to stay. I want to help."
Bravo, young warrior, Reka thought. Perhaps that commission in her legions was still in the cards.
They spent a pleasant afternoon debating the merits of this dress or that, ultimately settling on a daring red number that showed a good bit of leg and had a kind of girdle that fastened underneath her breasts, accentuating them.
Officially, Reka selected it for the desire it provoked in Brad's eyes, but the shade it made Alice blush was charming as well.
*****************
Brad's Point of View
Traffic flowed pretty easily on the road to San Ricardo, a city an hour to the north of their house in San Guillermo. Once they got on the highway Reka engaged their MWB's self-driving system and Brad loaded up a flashcard app on his phone.
"And who is this, honey?"
"Clark Zuckermann, CEO of Friendscroll," Reka answered at once. They didn't want a repeat of her not knowing who Trask was and giving offense unknowingly.
"And him?"
"George Stavros, CEO of Rainforest."
They spent about half an hour drilling on the big names, their faces and companies. His fiancee looked incredibly sexy in her little red dress but Brad could tell she was in "teacher mode" right now, that confident, personable demeanor she used to hold the attention of every person in class. Reka was magnetic like this; he really couldn't look away, and Brad was used to her. These Silicon Valley nerds were not ready for his Reka!
Eventually they came to a gate where a guard checked their credentials and waved them in. The party was held at a private residence, a large house by any measure but positively huge for cramped San Ricardo.
"Stick close to me, my love," Reka instructed him, as if he had to be told that. "Our priority is to establish a relationship with a company that traffics in flesh, er, biotech I believe it is called."
Brad smiled a little. When in teacher mode Reka could curb her Reka-isms...to a degree, but some would always slip through.
He felt a twinge of alarm when a man at the door told them that no phones would be allowed inside. Was it going to be that kind of party? He wondered.
Reka, seemingly unbothered, put her phone in the box provided. Well, her dress didn't have pockets, he remembered, surrendering his phone as well.
"Merchants are secretive creatures by nature, Brad," his fiancee explained. "Always anxious to obtain any advantage, and many a secret deal will be made tonight, I deem. Your reluctance is understandable, but you're safe with me."
She squeezed his hand and Brad relaxed a little. Reka wouldn't let anything bad happen.
A general commotion erupted when they entered and the games began. Partygoers looked torn between approaching Reka immediately and biding their time for an advantageous moment. Watching, waiting, crowding her, jockeying for position, everybody looked like they wanted a piece of Reka.
Clark Zuckermann, despite his timid public persona, was one of the first.
"I heard business is picking up. The early days of a company are always exciting," he said nostalgically.
"Quite so, Mr. Zuckermann," Reka agreed.
"Still selling to the government?" Zuckermann asked leadingly.
"For the present," Reka answered, "unless somebody could make us a better offer?"
Shrewd, Brad thought. Zuckermann was rich as hell.
"The energy bill for our AI product at Friendscroll is ruinous, I'll admit. Your current maximum capacity is four additional gigawatts a month, correct?"
Reka nodded.
"That would be worth a lot to my company," he said. "Let me give you a tip: discussing money is usually not done at functions like this. That said, I'll have my team write up an offer and send it to you. Enjoy your evening, Dr. Fekete."
Once he was out of earshot Reka immediately began complaining. "That upjumped parchment seller didn't say one word to you, Brad! He didn't even look at you!"
"I'm fine with being in your shadow, Reka. It's a comfortable place to be." If he wanted to be the center of attention being on Reka's arm was just about the worst way to go about it.
She cupped his cheek. "You're worth more than that, Brad," Reka said with conviction that stopped his breath. "One day the likes of Clark Zuckermann will grovel at your feet."
"It's still a lot of money, honey. Friendscroll has deep pockets."
"Yes, yes, I know all about Friendscroll," Reka dismissed the idea. "Their 'artificial intelligence' as they call it is just a time-wasting distraction machine, a frivolity. There is no elegance, no real useful purpose, nothing like faithful Galiban."
After Clark Zuckermann left they spent some time wandering around and mingling. It was that kind of party, Brad realized. There were people openly doing coke on the coffee table, and couples and small groups were slipping off and disappearing into bedrooms.
As the night progressed Brad could tell Reka was getting more and more pissed off. Every man they passed, without fail , looked down her dress. Reka liked it when Brad looked down her dress. She encouraged it even, but now they were surrounded by a bunch of rich guys who were used to getting whatever they wanted, many of them drunk or high, and self control was a faded memory.
He gripped her waist firmly, not in jealousy, but solidarity. Somehow he knew Reka could sense the difference. They were in this together.
The "biotech" people that Reka actually wanted to talk to proved elusive. Still, she gave everyone who approached a fair shot.
"I guess it's my turn now," said George Stavros, the richest man there by far.
"And I suppose you want my crystals as well?" Reka asked, sounding exasperated.
"Maybe, maybe not," Stavros said. "It's a big question, what to do with fusion energy. Do we use it to train more AI? Or do we start replacing existing coal electrical plants that pollute our world? Some say if we had a powerful enough AI then it would figure out how to solve pollution for us. I'm not so sure.
"We use all kinds of of AI assistants at Rainforest, as I'm sure you know. There are automated systems in sales, logistics, and even boring stuff like updating old software to the latest versions. That actually saved more programmer hours than anything, if you can believe it. I'm not asking you to make a decision overnight. You just started, after all, but I can think of a few uses for all that new, clean power. How'd you manage to quadruple crystal production like that, anyway? I'm curious."
"My fiance figured it out!" Reka exploded. "He built the crystal-etching robot we use, every part, manually, with something called a CNC machine!"
Stavros looked at him and Brad felt his heart rate spike. This dude could buy countries, and he was scanning Brad like he had x-ray vision.
"How interesting," he said noncommittally. "You make a fine couple."
"I love him!" Reka said fiercely. Brad's knees nearly buckled. His fiancee held him strongly, keeping him upright.
"Perhaps we should retire, my love," she suggested. "An advantageous deal with the guildmaster of flesh looks less than likely," Reka whispered in his ear.
Then they heard him.
"Out of my way, don't you know who I am?" the man slurred.
George Stravros' nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ah, so Elron made it, and he's already out of his mind on ketamine."
Trask wasn't supposed to be here! That's why they agreed to come. He should've been busy in Washington, sucking up to President Blimp.
Brad wanted to slip out quietly but Reka wasn't budging. She was in a fighting mood, he could tell.
"If it isn't the Hungarian whore," Elron said crudely, his pronunciation suffering. "Here to sell yourself?"
"I'm not for sale," Reka said coldly. "Especially not to you!"
Trask laughed in her face. "I could buy you," he said with certainty. "I can buy anything. So how about it? How much?"
"Watch your fucking mouth!" Brad spit out before Reka could reply, getting up in Elron's personal space. In his peripheral vision Brad noticed some men who were likely security tensing, but he didn't care. "You want to step outside?" he said threateningly.
Yeah, this was happening. Brad Regis just challenged Elron Trask to a fist fight.
"Oo da fuk arr yoo?" Elron said back, genuinely confused and barely understandable.
Brad's anger drained out of him as quickly as it rose. Trask's eyes were glassy, unfocused, the muscles in his face twitching randomly, his pale, sallow skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat despite the air conditioning. He looked pathetic. This middle-aged man was zooted into another dimension and making a scene at a party like some awkward teenager.
Forgetting Brad was even there, Trask turned back to Reka. "Those are some big tits," he said to nobody in particular, reaching for her.
Brad heard the snap before he even saw Reka's hand move and Trask was on the floor, moaning in pain.
"You villain! You reprobate! The gods hated you in your mother's womb! What vile temerity to attempt to lay your filthy hand on what belongs to Brad alone! Perdition take you!"
Reka was half screaming and half crying, raising a hand to finish him off.
Suddenly sensing the danger, Brad hugged her from behind. His fiancee was like a tenth of a second from completely crashing out and he knew it. Security rushed them and hustled Trask away.
"Thah beech bruk mah wreest!" he cried as he was being carried out.