Chapter 5: Moving on

Two days later I was restless and decided that maybe a trip over to Chelsea’s Sioux reenactment camp would help relieve the boredom. I packed a cooler with a few adult beverages and a few packages of junk food which I am sure were not on her historical camp’s manifest.

Bringing the booze bothered me a little for two reasons. The first was that I felt more than just a slight urge to start drinking again. I had done well resisting the bottle since I had been brought here. The inhibitor or my willpower was failing though, and I felt the pull growing stronger all the time.

The second reason I was bothered was that I did not know if Chelsea would realize how hypocritical it was for me to gift Native Americans, even if they were simulated, with alcohol. Since she was a history nerd, I suspected she was up to speed with the problems faced by the American Indians when the white men had allowed them access to abundant booze.

In the end, I decided that the natives had had their own mind-altering hallucinogens long before booze had arrived. The Europeans were not the original cause of their woes and now, almost two millennia later, the problem was long buried. Besides, if she thought it was in bad taste (ha!) she could just dump the booze later or refuse the gift in the first place.

Yesterday had been colder and rainy so I had stayed indoors most of the day reading an old favorite book. In the afternoon I had ventured out to the barn for a few hours to use the gymnasium and to get my blood circulating. My lame knee was acting up with the cold weather and the movement helped. I caught myself considering just asking the machine to fix my leg. No! I would tough it out.

The rains had ceased last evening and today was just mostly cloudy. The temperature had risen to forty-five degrees but it was still windy. I was bundled up in a warm insulated windbreaker with a tight-fitting hood. The buggy normally had just a windscreen and a roof, so I attached the removable clear-polymer side covers to help keep out the worst of the weather. Now buttoned up, I set the buggy in motion.

I used the autopilot for the drive over and I simply watched for wildlife. The grass was wet and there was some mud which made the ride slippery and interesting in spots. I was glad that I had sealed the cab as the spinning wheels had mostly covered the buggy with splatter by the time we arrived at the reenactment camp.

Chelsea was outside chopping firewood. My goggles were off which proved it was real wood she was chopping. I guess she needed a bit of actual firewood for camp fires and such. I parked the buggy near the corral containing the two live neo-horses and made my way to where she was working.

It looked like slow and hard work as she was using a pre-contact stone ax. I was a bit confused when she did not stop her monotonous chopping nor acknowledge me at all. Was she mad about something? I politely said, “Good morning.”

“Chelsea is currently involved in a question-and-answer session on a Conscientia historical subchannel. The session is scheduled to conclude in fourteen minutes,” her shell said in a monotone.

“Are you her augment or are you a remote AI monitor?” I asked.

“I am the augment, John Abrams Prime,” the shell answered.

I did not bother to communicate with the simple augment any further and instead wandered about the camp inspecting the teepees and her food cache. I had brought my goggles just in case I wanted to see the full simulation but left them in my pocket for now.

The six androids were busy with various tasks. I noted they all kept away from me as I wandered around, probably still under some restrictions from their controlling AI. Down by the creek I saw that there was a stone- and pebble-covered ford. When I left here I could use the ford to cross the creek and avoid becoming stuck.

I adjusted my plans to head north from here when I left and to stop by the field base before returning home. I might as well meet my neighbors face to face and get that out of the way. I turned to see Chelsea approaching. She had put away the ax and was wiping the sweat off of her shell with a dry soft leather chamois.

“John! Sorry for the delay.”

I shook her hand in greeting and we went back to her main teepee to get out of the cool wind. The structure’s flap-covered entry faced south and let in the intermittent sun so we took a seat on the floor’s simulated woven ground covering to enjoy the warming rays.

We spent an hour talking about her reenactment and other things. She told me about some of the funny questions she had answered during the earlier Q&A session. I was able to hold her in thrall by telling stories of my personal interaction with the remaining Indian tribes back in the time before ‘the reset’.

Although the twentieth century Sioux had, for the most part, lived the same modern lifestyle as the rest of humanity, they had still kept some of their traditions alive. I had attended a few of their powwows and other ceremonial gatherings and Chelsea soaked that information up.

She listened soberly when I described the conditions of living on the modern reservations. I tried to not sugarcoat anything and described what I thought were their virtues and demerits which I thought were ironically caused by both their semi-independence and their institutionalized dependency. We had a lunch of authentic fry bread cooked on a hot stone and a bit of the fresh elk meat that I had witnessed being harvested a few days earlier.

After we ate, our conversation was interrupted by a loud noise a few miles south of us. It was a descending VTOL electro-jet which must have been landing at the field base. I used the distraction as an excuse to state that I had better be getting along home. Before I departed, I gave her the gift of the firewater. I was happy to see she accepted the bottles and snacks without hesitation. She also gave me a gift of a small bundle of freshly-made elk jerky.

Soon I was back in the buggy, this time heading south through the tall grass. The field base should be south-southeast from Chelsea’s camp at maybe a mile and a half distance. There was a clear trail in the grass which meant that she had ridden her horse to visit the field base often. It occurred to me that the tourists who had visited here before I arrived would have loved the authentic appearing Chelsea and that she probably received generous donations from them.

I suddenly got a smile on my face as I remembered the visit I had just had with Chelsea. There had been an awkward moment after lunch when Chelsea had inquired if I was bi. I laughed to myself as I remembered the conversation.

“It’s been over six months John and I’m as horny as hell. I’ve got a handle on this male shell (I’d almost snorted at her inadvertent pun) but I still miss real human contact. I know everyone assumes you’re strictly hetero but I hoped that since you’re so old and have been in female shells that maybe you’ve adapted?”

I apologized and told her that I was stubborn and still just a plain old hetero.

“Oh well. I’ve got the female-looking androids at least. One of them has this gadget, but it’s not the same...”

I had tuned out the rest of her statement. Too much information! Her plight had reminded me that I was feeling a bit tense due to my own years of solitude. Maybe I’d have to put out a plea on the intimacy forums.

It was possible there were a few weirdos out there with some sort of ‘bearded old crusty guy’ fetish. It occurred to me that Chelsea’s hookup attempt to me might have been broadcast on Conscientia. I wondered if it would help me market my situation.

I topped a grassy knoll just northwest of the field base. Ahead of me, filling the small valley, was an assortment of warehouse-type utilitarian buildings along with the more aesthetically pleasing human dormitory. The dormitory building was mostly underground but it did have a large glass-roofed entry annex.

I had been in the dormitory twice long ago and remembered that the glass roof covered a large space that was filled with green trees and plants. It even had a nice, heated pool and spa. The annex was an inviting place to just hang out and it was a popular spot for the bold history tourists who visited the area during the cold winter months.

At the southern edge of the valley, just beyond the buildings was the hard-surfaced landing field. Parked in a neat row were three smaller, short-ranged VTOL hopper transports. Behind the smaller craft, and still being serviced by two mobile units, was a larger, long-range VTOL electro-jet. This must be the aircraft that Chelsea and I had spotted landing an hour ago.

I drove the buggy down the worn horse trail to the base. Nobody human was outside that I could see. I parked the buggy on the pad next to the dormitory annex entry and went inside. The main doors were not locked and slid open as I approached. Inside was a vestibule with rows of clothing cubbies and a bench.

I removed and hung my coat and used the bench to remove my slightly-muddy boots. Finally, now just in my stocking feet, I rode the lift down to the floor level of the large, half-underground annex.

There I found the indoor mini-jungle just as I remembered. There had been a few changes however and one of these was a new koi pond at the base of the trees. I paused for a moment to observe the many, exotically colored fish. I also spotted turtles and other aquatic critters hanging out in the pond. Off to one side of the annex was a pool enclosure and on the other side was the lounge area.

All the comfortable lounging couches and chairs around the annex were empty which confirmed my suspicion that the base had been cleared of tourists because of my sudden visit. I heard noises including laughter coming from the far end of the annex and went to investigate.

Just past the mini-jungle, I spotted a small group of humans. There were four of them and they were seated at a round table by the food preparation and bar area. I moved to join them. Before I could announce myself one of the group spoke up.

“Welcome, John. The building presence warned us that you had finally decided to pay us a visit.”

The speaker was a taller man. His shell was the perfect example of the well-built, prime-aged male specimen which any man would love to have the use of. His companions were two females; one was younger, petite, and gorgeous. The other woman was slightly older, taller, and ... still pretty good looking.

Both ladies smiled as the man introduced them. I sensed intelligence and authority in the look I’d received from the older of the two. I slowed to a stop as I recognized the fourth member of the party. Even though it was facing away from me it was clearly Ohmu.

The man spoke up again. “I’m Jess.” He then pointed at the petite girl to his right. “This is Angelina.” He then turned to the taller woman on his left, “ ... and this is Beatrice.” He then indicated Ohmu. “You already know the fourth member of our group.”

I just nodded. I was sure they already knew all about me. Probably more than I did myself. Ohmu did not turn to face me.

Beatrice spoke up next, “Please join us. I arrived an hour ago and they are teaching me how to play poker.”

The other two humans snorted at that. I was a bit surprised to find them playing old-fashioned cards and not immersed in some sort of virtuality or other modern pursuit. They must have just finished a hand as all the blank cards were laying in a toss pile. I also saw that next to each player, the interactive table surface was showing an indication of their current Scut values.

I was relieved that the number displayed was just three digits. It looked to be a low-stakes game. I debated whether I should take a seat or bolt. It had been a long time since I played poker. Still, this would be awkward. Ohmu was here after all.

“I don’t know,” I said with a bit of hesitation. “My shell does not have smart irises.” I hoped that my excuse did not sound as lame to them as it did to me.

Since the playing cards they were using were completely blank, unless you wore enhancement goggles or your shell possessed smart irises, you could not see the card’s face values. If you had either, then you saw the face value as an overlay on the surface of the blank physical cards.

The technology simplified shuffling as the values were simply randomly changed between hands. It also eliminated any peeking as only the holder could see the face values until the card was played. It also eliminated accidentally flipped cards and finally, best of all, it kept the card sharks and deck packers from being able to cheat.

“Not a problem, there’s a pair of generic overlay glasses on the shelf right there,” Angelina said, pointing behind the bar.

I was stuck. I found the glasses and slipped them on. Instantly the cards in the toss pile took on color and detail and I could make out the face values on the ones that had been flipped over on purpose. Also, the Scut amounts displayed on the table’s surface were now fully rendered as stacks of various colored chips.

I took a seat between Beatrice and Jess. This put Ohmu and Angelina on the opposite sides. As I glanced at the buxom android, our eyes met.

“I will leave if you wish it, John,” Ohmu stated quietly.

I did not answer right away. After a long pause which probably had the other three humans squirming in their chairs, I answered, “No, it’s OK Ohmu. You can stay.” I glanced at the other, now-relived humans. “What’s the stakes?” I asked.

Jess answered, “We usually only play for an hour or two after lunch, so the buy-in is five hundred. Bet limits are š5 to help prevent anyone from being felted too early before the hour is up.”

“How long have you played so far?” I asked.

They looked at each other before Angelina said that they had started when Beatrice had arrived, maybe forty-five minutes ago. Good, that meant that we would probably only play a dozen more hands. I was not worried about losing SCUTs as I had racked up plenty when I had been employed as a history teacher and guide.

I also had a Scut account in my name that held the yearly stipend which the new humans had granted me over a century ago. But, I hadn’t checked it after the first few years. It had not been much, and I had not needed it at the time so I mostly forgot about it to let it grow on its own. They might have even appropriated it all back by now for all I knew. Still, I did not have my smartwatch nor did I have any smart coins. Could I even get to my money right now?

“Um, Ohmu ... you still have access to my Scut right?” I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

“No John, but Naomi does. Shall I request that presence transfer five hundred standard caloric units to your table counter?”

“Please,” I answered. She did and my stack appeared. I noticed my š500 stack was still smaller than Beatrice’s who had the largest at the table. Teaching her to play indeed! Ohmu’s stack was pretty large also.

“Um, I hate to be ‘that guy’ but is playing with Ohmu fair?”

“I have temporarily suspended all of my biometric scanning capabilities except for gross facial expression recognition John. If you can keep your poker face intact, I won’t kick your biological ass,” the little android replied. I smiled despite myself. I realized that I had missed its snark.

We all anteed up and the cards were dealt. I came up with a pair of kings, which winked and grinned back at me confidently. Although I felt excitement, I managed to hold in my smile as I tossed in a š5 bet.

After the game, I joined the humans for coffee and tea. The game had been more enjoyable than I had expected. Even better, I had managed to hold my own and book a profit of š20. Jess and Ohmu had finished with slight losses each while Beatrice left the game up nearly three hundred. The big loser had been Angelina, but she just smiled and said that she would have no trouble earning the lost Scuts back.

While we had played, we had also talked. I had managed to learn what each of them specialized in and why they were here. Angelina was a highly-rated touch therapist. She was in her mid-thirties and had been doing therapy for almost twenty years. In this bright enlightened future that occupation meant all forms of touching.

From simple hugs and massages, up thru all forms of sexual pleasure. While she provided charity and treated people in need at times, she also gladly accepted payment. Thus, her lack of concern about a few lost Scuts. She could earn them back in one good night of therapy.

When I asked why she was here or if she was a history tourist, she replied that she had been hired to be here. I looked at the other two humans but they refused to meet my eye. Oh! I was the reason she had been brought here. When I inquired as to who had hired her, all she would answer was that it had been an anonymous transaction. That was when I caught Ohmu’s facial illuminations twitch before the android also looked away.

Jess was a shrink or whatever this age’s equivalent was to the old era’s psychologist. Since medical AIs handled most biological physical ailments, he was not a true psychiatrist and did not prescribe drugs. But he did work to perfect his art. Without formal degrees or official colleges, it was more like the master craftsmen of old. Reputation was earned by being successful.

Merit and recommendations buoyed his reliability and reputation and allowed him to make a profession of treating mental issues and suffering. Our new civilization had become something of a meritocracy and as a libertarian-leaning old grump, I could not be happier.