LEGACY OF A CLOUD

Ben finally had it installed. The shiny workmen were putting on the final touches. Aggrav V was essential to his wellbeing. Knowing this, his company agreed to pay the price of installation, if Ben would keep up the monthly maintenance charges. Of course, he had purchased the deluxe model, with units at home, car and office. An aluminum clad installer motioned for Ben to come into the kitchen. On the porcelain counter lay BIC, the core of the Series 6000. Unlike its classic fictional counterpart, HAL, BIC could not speak, but he was a great listener. BIC's hearing sensors were on a plane that few human ears ever attained. BIC empathized. BIC maintained the ability to put itself into another's situation, to feel, evaluate, and perform its numerous functions. He was the eliminator of stress. Through a complex series of devices BIC had available to him, he could virtually anticipate any stressful situation and immediately divert it. The shimmering Aggrav V technician explained to Ben the intricate workings and lectured on the high sensitivity of the instrument. He proceeded to set BIC's stress dials. Ben instructed him to adjust them at 0 for himself, 5 for his wife, and to keep the children's on a non functional level. All of the facts on the effect of no stress on children were not in yet. In fact, the previous issue of Psych Tomorrow had BIC's unaging photograph adorning its cover. Splashed across the bottom of the page was the title, "NonStress Children ?/= Unadaptable Adults," Dr. Fliff Adjou. Ben felt safer with the children's dials inoperable. The silverclad installer handed Ben the instruction manual and a luminous deep black card with silver embossed letters, "IN CASE OF URGENT RENEWAL CALL 9993909643 IMMEDIATELY ." Ben started to ask what possibly could cause such an emergency. The thought was just about out of his mouth when BIC sensed the rise in blood pressure, a tinge of anxiety. Two bronze tinted mechanical hands reached from under the drawer directly in back of Ben. One hand pressed the tension point at the base of Ben's neck. The other, equipped with a small miniature recorder, stopped next to Ben's ear. The soft strains of "Concerto in D Minor" drifted out, and a sensual voice whispered the "Stress Incomparato" (from George Pelvis' new novel, Restraints). The combination proved soothingly effective and dissipated any doubts. Ben smiled contentedly as the two copper hands retracted into their original positions. The shining installer fed the bill into the BIC Core. From now on, Bic would take care of all the mail with a special roller from the front door mailbox to Core. Core sorted the bills from the personal mail, and disposed of debts through checks specially punched at BIC's copyprint located at Ben's office. Carrying the simple task further, it would separate personal mail into stress and non stress piles. BIC would wait for the relay of Ben's stress communications to his sensors. The aluminum workman bid Ben goodbye. "I hope you will be pleased with your new BIC unit, Sir. I'm confident that you will be." Ben felt sure and secure in the feeling that he would. The day had been a long one. Ben could faintly hear his wife, Marsha, half commanding, half pleading with Bobby and Sue to come into the house for cleanup and bed. BIC felt that Marsha's level still needed lowering. A small silver beetle with a tiny glistening point scampered out from behind the sofa. The sting was imperceptible, twenty milligrams of valium brought Marsha down to an acceptable level. Ben had seen none of this. All he knew was that when he entered the parlor, Marsha had the boys in bed and her mind in a state of loving, relaxed, sexy, womanly obedience. Ben was content. The next morning two golden bed hands sauntered up and slowly roused Marsha ,while a hand-recorder mindsette 10.54 played a classic it was humming softly..."Oh what a beautiful morning, oh, what a beautiful day..." Marsha awoke refreshed and happy. BIC's hands retracted back into the wall. Marsha was glad Ben had decided to install Aggrav V. Their marriage had been declining and their lovealife left a gaping hole in their mutual love pact. Marsha loved Ben and wanted their lives back on the road to "mutual being" like it had once been. Bic had helped. She thanked her lucky Daily Star! BIC turned his attention towards Ben. His arousal should not be done in a haphazard manner. An inferior awakening only would lead to unnecessary stress throughout the day. Searching through Ben's APP IA (everyone submitted a series of detailed personal background in order to qualify for Aggrav V machinery) he found the answer. Slowly, two midas hands started on their separate paths towards Ben. The expensive new human female smooth dura hand proceeded towards Ben's neck muscles, delicately massaging, sensuosly moving down first to the back and spine, and then down to the groin. Simultaneously, a common copper handrecorder played mindsette 14.2B made especially for such an occasion by Organa Enterprises. The combination turned the trick. BIC tidied up and retracted. Ben awoke happy but awfully tired. A scooting scarabful of cocaine-hydrocloride remedied the situation. Ben felt alive. BIC felt emphatically so. After a light breakfast and a stimulating goodbye from Marsha, Ben began his semi daily journey to work. This was the day Ben drove Bobby and his friends to school. He didn't mind, there was plenty of time. After picking up Raoul, Smitty, and Shirelle, Ben started onto the Revised New Jersey Speedway. About half way to school, Bobby let out a truly atypical anxiety ridden statement. "Dad, I have to go to the bathroom." BIC picked up on the stress in a wink. The glove compartment opened and a long silver serpentlike hose slowly unfurled into the back seat. A small brown belly hand extended from under the rear seat, zipped down Bobby's pants and permitted Bobby to relieve himself. The hose and hand retracted. Ben felt awkward. Bobby and friends were in a state of frantic amusement. Ben decided that if the children were laughing then everything must be okay. Just in case, BIC had been ready with 30 milligrams of mellaril. It wasn't needed. Day drifted into night and nights into days, fourteen to be precise. On that morning, the road to work seemed to draw up and swallow Ben. He felt vague. Work wasn't much better. The enthusiasm he had felt for BIC had faded, replaced by memory lapses, chronic peace of mind and constant Biceral int erference. Walking up the Baron Arch, he pressed 421 A on the slide. The slide was crowded; even the quadratic enter/ exit system didn't seem to help. Finally, on the vertical rung of its trip, the complicated slide slid Ben out. Mr. Cromwell, his valet, had made coffee and related the sticky situation that awaited Ben in his office. Ben paid little attention. He had grown used to BIC taking care of things. He did catch part of the story something about the Solar Roofs that Synergy had sold to a Mr. Irwin 's company being faulty. Ben smiled. Good thing he was wearing his portapak. Mr. Irwin awaited Ben in his office. No sooner did Ben enter then the barrage of accusations, innuendos and threats spewed forth from Mr.Irwin. Ben asked Mr. Irwin to calm down. BIC saw no immediate anxiety reaction from Ben so he listened patiently. "Let me tell you this, Ben Halsey, if you don't make good on these goddamn roofs I'm going to the E.R.C. (Energy Respect Commission). I'll let them deal with your company's chea ting." Ben suddenly realized his job was in jeopardy. The E.R.C. was powerful, his boss could not afford any static from them. If he did, it would cost Ben his job! BIC's reaction was immediate. Feeling guilty for not acting sooner, two silver scarabs sile ntly glided from under the main curtain in Ben's office. The silver demon wielding the 60 milligrams of T.H.C. caught Mr. Irwin in the middle of the right calf. The 10 milligrams of valium combined with an earful of soothing Bio Rhythms struck Ben. The res ult, a joyful reunion between two old pals. A lunch date was made. That ugly matter about sunroofs was dropped. Mr. Irwin left in a rather jocular mood. Ben, proud as a successful adolescent, told his valet how easily handled matters and to send a Ripponmemo to his boss, Mrs. Francette, saying he had taken care of the Irwin account. BIC knew better. Momentarily it transferred its attention to Ben's portable car unit. Waiting for Mr. Irwin, it remixed mindsette 1013022 and forty others and came up with a young woman screaming, "Rape, help me, please help me." Mr. Irwin, being an off duty auxiliary patrol person, responded. Then BIC shot every ounce of electricity from the car's battery to the door handle. Mr. Irwin was sent into a level of inaudible consciousness. BIC's mechanical arm caught him before he hit the ground. There was no need for injuries. The strength (10) arm (arm 419 made and used in connector brotronics) dragged Mr. Irwin into the front seat. Clumsy, but adequate for BIC's purposes. The door shut tight. A silver doctor death made its way from the glove compartment. Two-- hundred milligrams of qualude phenonal, a new hypnotic, was digested. The tiny transreceiver was popped into his ear. Hypnotically, suggest ively, BIC took care of Mr. Irwin. He wouldn't cause any more trouble. That night a vague, tired Ben skipped supper and went straight to bed. The banging of the kid's new "Drum Bum" was enough to wake the dead. Ben screamed for quiet. That spur of the moment squealing almost gave BIC cybernetic breakdown. He sent four silver therapists loaded with sedatives from the corners of the bedroom. Two struck: two retreated. Ben fell into a lumbering sleep. BIC knew something must be done with the kids. If he played his tarots right, he could destroy two aggravations with one silver stone. Silently, BIC prepared for the operation on Mrs. Halsey's lower cerebrum cortex. BIC scanned his medical tapes. He felt certain his eight high dexterity (100) hands would be sufficient. After Ben's wife succumbed to sleep, two silver pests from hell struck her and Ben simultaneously: 100 milligrams of Sodium Phenotal with Compose C2 (a new anesthesia) and 50 milligrams of Babberra Seconal, respectively. Sets of light blocking shade shields were gently placed over their eye lids. The operating bedroom theatre was ready. A simple Skinnerian Implant would see to everything. Ben wasn't at all surprised the next morning when Marsha told him that the kids were being sent to grandma Fern's for their mid year vacation. Grandma had trees and a dog. It did the children good to be able to see both. The next day was serene like the feeling of warmth when the spring breezes blow that hint of golden heat into your glowing face. Ben found a Ripponmemo from his boss. A handwritten one! Very rare! It was a sincere line of encouragement, praise and assorted sundries from Mrs. Francette. All in all, if the rest of the day went this well he would feel much more secure and the less tension the better. The less BIC, the better. BIC went unused for the remainder of the morning and afternoon. Night flowed in like silver mercury. Marsha had prepared a beautiful non artificial dinner. Soft Chilean night music beamed from BIC's stereo system. A good 1983 California Chablis lay chilled on the gorgeously arranged table. Marsha had even managed to buy some flowers. How real can you get. She was dressed in her sexiest nightblouse. BIC was pleased with his new protege. He showed his approval with a blast of Cannabis Sativa from his air vents. That turned an already wonderful meal into a jocular feast. Ben loved the new Marsha and maybe BIC wasn't half bad after all. For once he sure tried. After the dual party and following santos, Ben retired to watch TV. The old time singing Shapiro Sisters would be on the "George Tellenis Comedy Quad," four hours of continuous entertainment and the combination of cannabis and santos put him in just the right frame of mind. In the past, television had been known as a catalyst for many a scenario. Tonight it would keep its pattern sustained. The TV set was on the blink! Broken Ben, like all home repairmen, took out his silver tool bin and tried the adjustment suggestions from the home repair guide. No good! He tried calling TV Limited, no answer! He tried a small bang to the head of the set, no response! By this time he was slowly changing from serene to disturbed. So when he asked Marsha for a suggestion and received no reply, Ben was definitely becoming disturbed. "Damn it, Marsha, what am I supposed to do now?" Marsha wasn't herself. Even though BIC had guided her on the path of "Wonder wife," she still had the roots of her womanhood, and if there is one thing any woman can't handle it is criticism, especially when she's tried to fulfill your every whim. You couldn't blame her for flipping her programmed ground. The sudden break of peace by Marsha's screaming and ranting sent Ben/BIC into emotional frenzies. Her last act was what Skinnerian Specialists called a "Reactionary Conditioned Breakout." She yelled at Ben for his goddam selfishness released her pushed down feelings that had been bottled up for fifteen years. The decade was ended with a direct attack on BIC, calling him a Fucking Interferer of Life. She collapsed in an emotional state bordering on Implant Psychosis. Ben's state went from bad to worse. In fact, when he noticed the two surgical scars underneath Marsha's hairline, his state could only be described as emotional disaster. If BIC was a man, Ben would have killed him! He would do the next best thing — deactivation. Ben didn't make it ten feet. Two silverplague bugs carrying enough narcotic to stop a baby elephant hit him at exactly 9.8 feet. Death occured within minutes. Respiratory Collapse. A death as close to a natural one as BIC could supply on such short notice. BIC felt Ben would understand. Two biotronic strength (5) arms tenderly lifted Ben onto the couch. Marsha lay twitching on the floor in Skinnerian Shock. From the bowels of the floor sound system rose Gregor's "Into the Light." It was a haunting song, quite appropriate for the last rites. BIC searched for the right words for the final goodbye, feeling it would help Ben to realize that he had done the only thing possible for a smooth relationship. Two silver hands, the only silver dexterity (1000) hands in the system, slowly extended from the den wall. The silver receptacles carried a proxy book. BIC supplied emotion and words. The passage was from the classic, "Before the Darkness Comes".....''Brothers, in that time when all of us weep for the light, let us reflect on the light of death. For my friends, there is a light, a silver strand,a beatific glow. It surrounds our hearts and minds, swallowing and bathing us. Calming our terrorized soul. Allowing us to feel an inner peace before the darkness." BIC felt content and fulfilled, his light went out. Darkness came.