Yes, I said “non-writing.” As in, I’m not going to talk about Scrivener or yWriter or Shelfari. You probably already know about those. If not, there are many, many, many people talking about tools for writers as writers. They’re well worth a read.
So. With that well-covered, I thought I’d throw in my hat on the non-writing space. Specifically, marketing-oriented apps that you may not know about (or, if you do, may be worth more serious consideration.) This list is actually based on using every single one of these tools, and no, I’m not getting paid to recommend them.
By the way, if you’re not on the marketing frequency, please move along. Nothing to see here.
Onto the tools:
Animoto. Want to do a book trailer, but don’t want to spend your time learning Final Cut Pro? Try Animoto. Upload some photos (or point it at your Flickr account), pick and place, add text and highlights, and Animoto produces short videos with music and nice effects for free, or longer ones for $30 a year all you can eat. No, it ain’t gonna be as sexy as a professional production, but you also don’t have to start a second career as a video editor.
PollDaddy. Not quite as sexy, huh? Not so fast. PollDaddy lets you create quick, embeddable polls you can throw up on Facebook, MySpace, your blog, or any other presence. Ask your readers what they think should happen. Or what you should write about next. Or whatever. An easy, simple way to engage people.
SproutBuilder. Want more full-featured widgets? This simple online interface lets you bring in video, music, RSS feeds, animation, and as many pages of content as you’d like–and share it with all your fans on Facebook, MySpace, and more. Astoundingly powerful, and, for a small number of projects, completely free. Use it to promote your books, take donations for your favorite cause, and much more.
Wildfire. Okay. You’re moving up in the world. You have a book you’d like to give away. A limited edition. Or maybe you’ve won the publishing lotto and you want to do a cash prize or other themed prize. Wildfire is a great way to create contests or sweepstakes and spread them in the social spaces via Facebook apps and widgets. And if you haven’t seen the viral power of a contest, you haven’t seen anything. It’s quite literally the most powerful force in marketing. And yeah, they’re terrible and capitalist and self-serving and evil, and yeah, this is the world we live in.
Facebook Ads. You have some money and want to reach every Twilight fan on the planet to let them know how much better your new book is? Or every Star Trek fan? It’s as easy as running some Facebook ads–which can be targeted at stuff that shows up in a person’s online profile, including favorite books, authors, movies, and TV shows. You can literally be seen by tens of thousands of people for a few dollars. What they do, of course, is entirely up to you and your ad. But this is a great way to get fans–and to get clickthroughs to Amazon. MySpace has a similar ad program, but it’s much less developed, and cannot target as granularly as Facebook.
Google Adwords. Yeah. You got cash. Now you want to move books. Or a lecture series. It’s time to explore the power of Google Adwords, which recently got much better in terms of segmentation and management tools. Specify exactly which writer-focused blogs you want your ads to appear on–or, if you’re feeling adventurous, upload a 30 second book trailer and run it on television, or an audio file and run it on radio. Yes. Google is now in the conventional media business. And you might be surprised what kind of results a late-night TV ad run can get.
SpyFu. If you’re gonna be spending on Google Adwords, you might want to see who else is spending on the same keywords–or what your big writer-friends are doing. Type in keywords or URLs to SpyFu to see exactly what they’re spending, and what they’re spending it on.
Quantcast. Want to find out what other sites BoingBoing or i09 visitors prefer–and if they’re related to literature or science fiction? It’s easy to slice and dice the results in Quantcast. Sign up for a free media planner account, and start discovering where your potential audience really hangs out.
CampaignMonitor. Yes. Email. Fact is, the people who have bought your stuff (or stolen it online) are the best prospects to sell your next books to. Do you have a regular enewsletter letting people know what you’re up to, and what books are coming out? If not, why not? Sites like CampaignMonitor make creating and managing an email program simple.
WordPress. “Oh, hell, I know about that one,” you’re saying. But do you really? First of all, if you’re on any other blogging platform, it’s time to look at getting off. Yes. I just said that. Blogger and Moveable Type can bite me. But, fact is, WordPress is the most full-featured, configurable, extensible blogging and general content management platform on the planet. And it’s 100% free. I literally can’t tell you the number of enterprise-class websites we’ve built on the platform. Yes, websites. Not just blogs. Plus, with one-click install on a host like Dreamhost–which allows you to host an unlimited number of domains . . . very helpful if you’re getting into the alternate-reality space–Wordpress is simple and cheap. You can even have a Photoshop design converted into a WordPress template inexpensively (a few hundred dollars), or, if you want to do some DIY, PSD2CSS does the basics for free.
“What?” you say. “That’s it? No Twitter, no iPhone, no Facebook, no Second Life, none of that?”
Well, sure. If you have the time. But what would you really rather be doing: Twittering about what you had for breakfast, installing a new iPhone game that’ll waste seventeen hours of your time . . . or selling some books?
Happy marketing!
June 29th, 2009 / 1,542 Comments »
They made Han’s introduction to the Shrill ambassador a formal thing, held in the big Walton room set in the basement of the Winfinity Hilton Extravagance. Two of the walls were fronted in diamondoid, filtering water-blue artificial light from the man-made lake that surrounded the hotel and conference center. Parti-colored fish swam mechanically back and forth in front of the walls, pausing to smooch at the transparency. Their fish-faces were comical masks of confusion, as if they were wondering why they couldn’t swim into the brightly-lit room where the humans were.
It was a big room for only five people, so they holoed up a crowd and dancefloor. Tiphani set the volume comfortably low, so they wouldn’t have to shout to make themselves heard. She had little tolerance for that as she was edging into her fifth decade. Little tolerance for drinking and diplomacy, either.
Now they waited, Tiphani and Jimson and the Shrill, at the far end of a false aisle the laser-drawn forms of the dancers avoided. At the far end, Honored Maplethorpe and Honored Yin were still talking, heads down, with the Four Hands representative. She wondered what they were talking about. The enhancement functions of her external optilink sensors had been damped, so there was no chance of grabbing the conversation.
Were they talking about the Shrill? If so, what were they telling him? Would it have any bearing on reality?
“Nice place,” Jimson said.
“It’s underground,” Tiphani said.
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head. No reason for him to know.
Of course, no reason for her to know either. They could have already found the satellite and knocked it out of orbit. Honored Yin and Honored Maplethorpe could be explaining to Han Fleming that the terms of the deal had changed.
But seeing their expressions, she doubted it.
“Tiphani?” Jimson said.
“Shh!” The group of three started to walk their way. Tiphani waited, standing silent and straight, hoping Jimson picked up the seriousness of her vibe.
Honored Maplethorpe, Honored Yin, and Han Fleming stopped about five feet from the Shrill’s cage. It bumped up against the side nearest them, softly, almost rhythmically. Then it hit the wall with a sharp slam, showing its underfangs. Honored Maplethorpe and Honored Yin flinched back, their hands rising instinctively to protect their faces.
Han Fleming just smiled. He walked forward and knelt in front of the cage, putting his face inches from the glass. The Shrill’s underfangs scrabbled violently at the transparent barrier, making a singing noise against the diamondoid.
Han Fleming turned back to look at the group. “I can see how they went through our ship so effectively.”
“Effective highly (living) yes,” the Shrill said. Han jumped a little bit, drew back towards Honored Maplethorpe and Honored Yin, and whispered:
“It hears everything we say?”
“I believe that is a question for Chief Mirate and S. Ogilvy,” Honored Maplethorpe said, allowing himself a fraction of a smile. “S. Ogilvy is Chief Mirate’s assistant.
Han Fleming’s heavy eyes swiveled to focus on Tiphani. She gave him a quick nod. “Mr. Fleming.”
“Ms. Mirate.”
“I’m surprised you have someone so junior on your staff,” Han said, smiling wider.
“He is –“
“I was just going to comment that he must display exceptional insight and resolve.”
“He is highly qualified for this position,” Tiphani said.
Han nodded and turned back to the Shrill ambassador. “Hello, Shrill Ambassador. I have come to extend greetings from the Four Hands Coalition, a group of leading corporations that will be working in concert with Winfinity to assure you a mutually beneficial transaction that reaches the greatest majority of humanity.”
“Parse (parse) error input,” the Shrill said. “Parse out nonsequiturs. Was told you are (competitor) not ally (competitor).”
Tiphani smiled. They’d learned, early on, that the Shrill ambassador had difficulty with multiple concepts delivered in a single statement.
“Han Fleming represents four of our competitors,” Tiphani said, addressing the Shrill.
“Competitor or ally (competitor)? Refine definition.”
“Temporary ally,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
“For this time only? Then return to competitive state?”
“That is correct,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
The Shrill went still and silent. Tiphani imagined the furious communication that was taking place between this tiny piece of the greater Shrill and the shared mind many light-years away. If it had trouble with humanity competing amongst itself, what would it think of this?
The Shrill stirred. “Cooperation not permanent change (alteration)?”
“No,” Tiphani said. “We can take allies for short periods of time.”
“Fight, then cooperate, then fight?”
“We do not fight, as much as compete on an economic level,” Han Fleming said. Honored Yin and Honored
Maplethorpe shared an eyebrows-raised glance at the statement.
“Fight (compete) nonsequitur same struggle change.”
“We do compete,” Tiphani said. “Sometimes we fight. Now we are cooperating.”
“What is nonsequitur (economics)?”
Tiphani and Honored Yin exchanged glances. Yin answered. “Economics is the control of the redistribution of goods and services.”
The Shrill paused, then bumped the glass, almost thoughtfully. “You are defined as economic?”
“Winfinity is an interstellar economic entity. Four Hands is a coalition of four other interstellar economic entities.”
“Economic (economy) is war.”
“No, economy is voluntary exchange of goods and services based on fair market principles.”
“What is nonsequitur (market)?”
Honored Yin smiled. “I can see why you have no concept of market, being a cooperative intelligence. Humans do not cooperate except out of self-interest. A market is an exchange of goods and services. The value of the goods and services is determined by the supply of the goods and services and the demand for them. The lower the supply and higher the demand, the higher the price.”
“Economics (economy) just defined as control goods and services.”
“Correct.”
“Control not fair (unbiased)?”
Honored Yin stopped dead. Han Fleming smiled and continued. “Every corporation seeks to control by providing goods and services that are superior to other corporations. The consumer is the ultimate arbiter of the value of the products.”
“Unless made scarce (falsely.)”
That stopped even Han.
“Ambassador, we cannot artificially make something scarce,” Jimson said. “Another corporation will produce it and take the market from us.”
All four heads swiveled towards Jimson, and he blushed bright red.
“Unless temporary or (permanent) cooperation (war) in place,” the Shrill ambassador said, running in tight circles in the center of its cage. “Humans expand definition (concept) of cooperation (war) (vanquish) (nonpermanent nonsequitur exempt state).”
“Ambassador, we’re sorry if we have confused you,” Honored Yin said. “I’m certain that we can clarify certain points if you have questions.”
“Clarification (confusion) not possible if stated rules (songs of vanquish impermanent) not-conflicting (true). If conflicting (not-true) again not clarification possible. Nonsequitur nonsequitur nonsequitur. Analysis now.”
The Shrill fell silent and still in the middle of its cage.
“We confused it again,” Tiphani said.
Honored Maplethorpe made a shushing noise and shook his head.
Tiphani shook her head. “I would guess it’s gone for a while.”
Honored Maplethorpe drew the group away from the Shrill’s cage, until the sounds of the ghostly dancers could drown their voices. Brightly-dressed shades gyrated around them, automatically avoiding their path.
“How do you know it doesn’t analyze what we’re talking about when it’s still?” Maplethorpe said. “Your instructions were to be discreet.”
“I haven’t said anything that would compromise us,” Tiphani said. “The Shrill seems to have a very, um, linear understanding of conflict and negotiation. If you have reviewed our records from Old California, you’ll note that it did not understand what our competitors were. Now, it’s having trouble assimilating how we interact with real competitors.”
“It’s terrified that we’ll double-cross it,” Jimson said, softly.
“Where do you get that, Staffer?” Han Fleming said.
Jimson looked at the Four Hands representative, then turned and addressed his answer to Honored Maplethorpe and Honored Yin.
“It’s just heard we form alliances and dissolve them.”
“So?” Honored Maplethorpe said.
“If you were negotiating with an alien race – one that has some real technological advantages, like FTL travel – and you heard they have a history of screwing their business partners over, what would you think?”
“We hardly, uh, screw over our business partners,” Honored Maplethorpe said, his eyebrows drawn down into a stern frown.
“I think you can see how the Shrill might have come away with that impression.”
“I fail to see . . .” Honored Maplethorpe trailed off. His eyes went glassy and faraway in optilink-stupor, and he shook his head. Tiphani’s own optilink flashed to life, redflagging elements of their conversation, just minutes before.
“It is a groupmind,” Tiphani said. “It may not be able to assimilate the concept of honest competition very well.”
“Yes,” Honored Maplethorpe said. “In review, I believe young Ogilvy is correct.”
Jimson darted a glance at Han Fleming. “We have given a lot away,” he said. “If you review our conversation, we could have been more discreet. We could have steered the Shrill to positive examples of long-term cooperation. I tried to provide perspective, but I am afraid I don’t know when it is relevant to speak.”
Glassy eyes reviewed Jimson’s only contribution to the conversation. Heads nodded.
“Ogilvy is right,” Honored Yin said. “We have made the error of presuming to know our opponent. We have given too much. I’m afraid we may have delayed any meaningful dialogue. We may need to set ground rules for conversation in the future.”
“Minimize the group,” Jimson said. “More people have more opportunities to make an error.”
You little shit, Tiphani thought. Are you trying to cut me out?
For long moments, there was no sound other than the low music and the muted scuffling of the ghost-dancers. Honored Yin and Honored Maplethorpe looked from Jimson to Tiphani, waiting to see if he would make a suggestion.
He’s too smart for that, Tiphani thought.
He stayed quiet.
“That is honest wisdom,” Honored Maplethorpe said. “Here is my own. We will agree to ground rules on communication. They will be displayed in the group’s network windows, and conversation will be monitored. The group itself will remain at three. Jimson has proved his value. Mr. Fleming will remain as the Four Hands representative. Chief Mirate will remain as Mr. Fleming’s same-echelon counterpart.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to withdraw, in that case,” Jimson said.
“Why?” Yin and Maplethorpe said at the same time.
“I only have a datover. I’m afraid I might miss the rules or real-time correction that is displayed in the network window. I would not want to cause breakdown of negotiations because of this limitation.”
“You have shown wisdom beyond the need for mechanical assistance,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
“Nevertheless, I must withdraw.”
Honored Yin and Honored Maplethorpe dropped into glassy-eyed mode for a moment. Just long enough for Tiphani to think, wow, he’s going for it. Smart, smart kid.
“Honored Yin and I have conferred,” Honored Maplethorpe said. “We have decided to make your provisional promotion permanent. Congratulations, Manager Ogilvy. Please report tomorrow morning for the installation of your datover.”
Honored Yin smiled. “And congratulations on being the fastest Staff-to-Manager transition in the history of Winfinity.” She turned to Han Fleming and smiled, as if to say, This is how we do things at Winfinity. This is why we’re the biggest and the best.
Han Fleming looked back at her, mildly. “I regret that we will not have your company, Honored Yin and Maplethorpe.”
“Stop it,” Maplethorpe said.
“I’m hurt.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
“Now, lets get down to setting the rules for future conversation. Is the Shrill still, uh, inactive?”
Tiphani looked over the crowd. The Shrill was still umoving.
“It’s down,” Tiphani said. “Probably for a while.”
Jimson smiled at her and gave her a wink.
She tried to smile back.
June 27th, 2009 / 296 Comments »
And no, this time it’s not me. Jetse de Vries, editor of the upcoming anthology of positive science fiction Shine, has now had enough experience with authors to create a taxonomy of excuses as to why we can’t write positive SF (among other things; the post is quite substantive, and well worth reading in its entirety.)
Now, for my two cents:
I think one of the problems with science fiction is that many of us have lost sight of a simple principle: the first step to solving a problem is saying that you can.
Let me repeat that: The first step to solving a problem is saying that you can.
Saying. Not doing.
People who work in industry, especially in jobs like engineering or science, know this is true. Entrepreneurs know it’s true. They know it even more if they’ve ever taken a job where they weren’t sure they could do it, but took it anyway. And delivered. Saying “yes, we can do that,” in the face of everyone saying, “you can’t do that!” and then doing it, is how most significant things get done.
Consider:
We didn’t know how to send people to the moon at the beginning of the Apollo program, but we did it.
Steve Jobs didn’t read the computer journals of the time and think, “Well, this whole home computer thing ain’t gonna amount to anything, because that’s what the top guys at DEC and IBM say,” and do nothing. And he went and did it.
Hell, I’m sure Bill Gates didn’t say, “You know, I can’t do that,” when IBM came to him for DOS. I’m sure he said something like “Yeah, we can deliver that.” And then spent every day and night from that moment on making it happen on time. Because if he’d said, “I don’t know,” he would have never gotten the job. And history would be fundamentally different. Maybe better. Maybe worse. I’m not gonna speculate on that.
And, you know what, all the people working in genomics and robotics today, the ones who are doing impossible things like growing tracheas and bladders from stem cells, who are turning skin into stem cells, who are unlocking the secrets of how animals get around and developing models from that, models that work, are surely not starting out by saying, “No, you know, we really can’t do that.” They’re saying something like, “Yes, we can.” Or at the very least, “What the hell, we’ll give it a shot.”
So yeah. We’re looking at some pretty scary things coming down the pike. And we’re also looking at some pretty amazing things–a lot of which can’t be charted or predicted by simple linear models. I’m willing to bet that we’re going to be surprised by the power of the amazing things. I could be wrong. But, you know what? I’m going to say, today, June 2009, We can overcome our problems.
Say it with me. We can overcome our problems.
Now take a look at the amazing things happening at TED. And see if that doesn’t make you think, just for a moment, that everything will work out. That we might be heading for a future that is fundamentally different. Perhaps even strange. But not a dystopia. Not a compromise.
Hell, it may even be strange . . . and happy.
June 19th, 2009 / 860 Comments »
Jimson scrolled through the icons and textbits on his datover, but it gave him no clue when Tiphani would come back. He wished he had her access codes. With those, he could trawl through some of the less-censored data on the higher channels. He almost asked for them last night, but he knew it wasn’t time.
Not quite yet. Soon, but not now.
He paced the plush confines of Tiphani’s suite as the sun crawled overtop the city, turning it into a blue, black, and chrome portrait in ultramodern tropes. The Shrill scrabbled and occasionally muttered in the other room, but Jimson forced himself to ignore it.
He could piece the scenario together. The shit had hit the fan, as they used to say. Clearly the competition was less than thrilled about Winfinity’s negotiations with the Shrill. They were probably all gathered together, complaining in the way a small dog might beg for scraps from the table. Jimson was thankful he’d cast his lot with Winfinity. Being part of the most powerful corporation in interstellat space had its advantages.
But why had Yin seemed so nervous? And why did they need Tiphani?
Probably just too long since she’d seen any real competition. Yin and Tiphani were both earth-native, he knew. And earth was almost entirely owned by Winfinity. They’d grown up comfortable and insulated at the center of the corporate universe. None of them had lived through Disney’s infamous Mousketeer Raids, or the Microcon Beta-Tests. None of them know what raw competition really was.
Yes, that made sense.
The door banged open and a white-suited man lugging a bright blue plastic container struggled through the door. The container bore the Winfinity logo, as well as the corporate ID for the Sentience Division, a holographic light-bulb, brightly illuminated. Beneath it was another ID, one signifying Research, Applied Science division.
“Who are you?” Jimson said, as the door slammed shut.
“Shrill care and feeding,” the man said, in a tone of voice that would be the audiobook definition of a sardonic drawl. His face was round and soft, and stereoptic datovers obscured his murky brown eyes. The telltale metallic tatoo of an early-style optilink encircled his neck.
Complete geek, Jimson thought.
He gave Jimson a half-hearted smile and Jimson’s datover exploded with information: Dr. Jeremy Gomez, Distinguished Scientist First Class, Sentience Research and Applied Science Division.
“Oh,” Jimson said, frowning. Back on the ship, the servicing had always been done by third-class technicians, not by anyone with a title of Distinguished Scientist. “A0ren’t you a bit high-rank to be swabbing out the cage?”
“It’s not swabbing out the cage,” Dr. Gomez said. “I need to run in-place diagnostics on the power systems, check the integrity of the system visually, make several measurements of the Shrill, and replenish its food supply.”
“Ah.”
“But yes, since you asked, it is beneath my capabilities,” Dr. Gomez said.
“So why you?”
Dr. Gomez, who had been in the process of picking up his big blue plastic carrying case, let it thump down on the floor again.
“Because everyone here is too over-ranked to do it!” he said, shaking his head. “Hey, wait a minute, you’re the kid who did the unauthorized Shrill study.”
Jimson held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I thought it was . . .”
“Don’t apologize! Without you, we wouldn’t have the data we have now.”
“Like what?” Jimson said.
“Things I shouldn’t be talking about,” Dr. Gomez said, picking up the blue case.
Jimson followed him into the Shrill room. It was in one of its silent modes, completely still in the center of its cage. It must have eaten recently, because a fresh film of blood was drying on the glass.
“Tell me something,” Jimson said.
“No.”
“Come on! You just thanked me bringing in the data!”
Dr. Gomez opened his case, but said nothing.
“Let me guess. You already found the secret of immortality.”
A head-shake. “No,” Dr. Gomez said. “Not that. Maybe not ever that.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re terrified,” he said. “The Chief Scientists. They’re scared we’ll cut the thing open and find absolutely no difference between its telomeric structure and our own.”
“Why?”
Dr. Gomez squatted over his case and looked up at Jimson. Data scrolled in both his datovers, obscuring his eyes. Jimson might as well have been looking at two old-time video screens. “Because rejuvenation should work.”
“It does!”
“No. I mean, as long as we want it to. There’s no reason someone shouldn’t be able to be rejuvenated a hundred times. But they can’t. Just a couple or three. Which is why we only live two or three hundred years. There’s lots of talk about how the Shrill may not have telomeric triggers, or something that constantly rebuilds . . . hey, wait a minute, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“The Shrill are DNA-based, like us?”
“They’re a lot more like us than they should be,” Dr. Gomez said, flipping up one of his datovers to see better.
“Might as well tell you. Might help the negotiations,” he said, looking towards the ceiling as if playing for unseen cameras. “Yeah, they appear to use some of the same basic structures as us. RNA, anyway. And if the samples of excreta are correct, they may be even closer. Way closer than the mats, the Floaters, anyway. Closer than most of the nonsentient native forms. But we knew that before you. Which is why we started the negotiations.”
“What did you learn from me?”
“From you, nothing,” Dr. omez said. “From the cutie from the U, some interesting things. First, they see by radar. Should’ve known that. Their fractal-tree shells are covered with millions of little transmitting and receiving antenna. Extremely short-wave. Kinda abandoned tech here, since the Spindle Drive and the glink and the Quantum See, but serviceable. And the shells are plenty strange themselves. They have a cellular structure and nervous system of their own. I don’t think they’re manufactured. They’re grown.”
“So? Lots of nanotech is grown.”
“This doesn’t have that signature-of-design. It has a signature-of-life. Like it evolved by itself.”
“But it’s silicon carbide!”
“Sure, why not, got things like that on Jetta.”
Unbidden, images of the grim, dry world of Jetta showed in his datover. Grey, shiny, multi-segmented worms crawled over rocks, leaving shiny tracks. A textbit explained that these were silicon-based lifeforms, and gave lots of data on silicon carbide, life cycles, habitat and more. Another textbit indicated that the study was abandoned when no commercial application could be found, and the first colony put on the world fell to drought and disease within a decade.
“Oh,” Jimson said. He had a sudden vision of them carting the Shrill from world to world, looking for competitors for it to talk to, never finding the secret of true immortality. Tiphani and him growing old, never making perpetual, spending their life for this bizarre alien.
“There are no guarantees,” Dr. Gomez said. “None. You could finish your negotiations, we could get the help of the Shrill, and still never have true life unending.”
“It might be enough to just have rejuvenation cheap enough to be enjoyed by everyone.”
Dr. Gomez snorted. “Hell, I’ve heard that some of the Independents are doing it to everyone . . .” he trailed off and turned his attention back to the blue case, pulling out a stack of frozen steaks.
“But it’s too expensive to do it to . . .” Jimson trailed off. What if it wasn’t expensive? What if that was just what they said?
Was it possible that Winfinity was keeping rejuvenation for Perpetuals only for the sake of privilege, rather than economics?
Jimson smiled. If it was, all that meant was that he had to make Perpetual. He would have to stand on the mountain and look down.
No matter what it took.
It might be time for him to be very, very charming. To ask Tiphani for a very, very special favor.
He watched Dr. Gomez as he worked, sweating, not speaking again. It was good to know what the rules of the game were.
Even if the rules were bent.
June 19th, 2009 / 1,465 Comments »
CHAPTER NINE
Knock, knock!
The sound of knuckles on the thick wood door of Tiphani’s Winfinity High-Lux apartment cut through the still morning like large-caliber gunshots. Tiphani opened one eye, slowly, trying to sort her thoughts into order. Outside the big picture-window the chrome towers of Winfinity City were painted in cool blues, edged only faintly with orange. The clock in her optilink told Tiphani it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.
Knock, knock, knock!
Tiphani groaned and sat up in bed, looking back over her shoulder. The puddle of sheets that Jimson had wrapped himself with were there, but Jimson wasn’t. She reached over and felt the bed. Cold.
“There’s someone outside,” Jimson said, sticking his head in through the suite’s bedroom door.
“Where were you?”
Jimson went silently red. Sleeping in front of the Shrill cage again, probably. She really had to query records about what they were talking about.
Tiphani shook her head and sighed. “Never mind.”
“I think it’s Yin.”
“Honored Yin.”
“Honored Y . . .”
Knock, knock, knock, knock! Louder. More insistent.
Tiphani scrolled through the to-dos on her optilink, but they provided no enlightenment. She wrapped a robe around herself and went to the front door, telling Jimson to disappear.
She opened the door. Honored Yin’s face was red, shiny, and even less human than Tiphani remembered. Something was very wrong with the way the flesh was gathered at her ears and neck, like nightmare photos of ancient cosmetic surgery. Her colorful scarf was carelessly knotted, and the lapels of her suit hung open, ruining its geometric perfection.
“What happened?” Tiphani said, feeling the first acid touch of fear.
“Delay,” Honored Yin said. “Meeting. In-person. Seven-thirty. With Honored Maplethorpe and other guests.”
“What does this do to our tour with the Shrill?”
“Fuck the Shrill.”
Tiphani gasped. What monumental thing just changed all the rules? She scrolled through data on the optilink. Nothing. Nothing at all.
“The ambassador won’t be happy, Honored Yin,” Tiphani said. “It seems to feel some sense of urgency, for whatever reason.”
“The ambassador can go pound sand!” Honored Yin said, her face going from crimson to an almost-beet-like color. Then, gasping, she held up a hand. “Sorry. Not to be so harsh. But there are more important things. The ambassador will have to wait.”
“What do I tell it, Honored Yin?”
“Tell it you need to wait another day. Or two.”
“No reason?”
“Make something up.”
Tiphani frowned. Yeah, and end up holding the bag if the thing decides to sign off once and for all. No, thank you. “Honored Yin, I must respectfully ask for some reason that I can provide to the ambassador, or I feel I will be remiss in my duties.”
Honored Yin smirked. “No need to be formal for the microphones. Here’s your CYA. Tell the ambassador he’ll be getting a chance to meet some of our current competitors.”
“Our . . . Winfinity’s competitors?” Tiphani said.
The smirk bloomed into an ironic smile. “You’re getting the picture now,” Honored Yin said, and walked swiftly away.
Tiphani caught Jimson scampering to the safety of the Shrill room when she re-entered the suite.
“How much did you hear?” Tiphani said.
“Not much . . . I wasn’t . . .”
“Don’t lie. If you missed one word, you’ve probably rigged your datover sensors to augment and interpolate.”
Jimson shrugged, stood a little taller. “I heard it. Our competition has come to pay a visit.”
“Listen to me,” Tiphani said, walking up to him so their faces were separated by mere inches. “You will not tell the Shrill a word of this. I don’t know what you talk to it about at night – not yet – but this isn’t going to go past this room.”
“I would never . . .”
“Shut up. This is a direct order. I’m recording this. You will not talk to the Shrill when I am out, no matter what it does. You can alert me, but that is all.”
“I’m not coming to the meeting?”
“No way in hell, dearest Jimson.”
The boy was smart. He didn’t argue further. He just followed Tiphani into the Shrill room and waited silently. She told the Shrill that their meeting with the Original Sam would be postponed by at least one day and possibly more.
The Shrill slammed itself against the side of the cage, its underfangs a blur of frantic motion. “Contract made not interested delay (not acceptable) diversionary wanting trade meeting possible no no not now,” it said.
“We apologize sincerely, but it is not possible for you to meet the Original Sam now.”
“Meet leader (consume) wanting now!”
“It is simply not possible.”
The Shrill raced around the inside of its cage and slammed back and forth a few times. Jimson leaned near her and shrugged, his eyes looking a question.
Tiphani knew exactly what he was asking. Why not offer the other competitors now? Why are you risking it? For a moment, it was as if Tiphani was hooked to the most powerful inference algorithms Winfinity had. She could look through and see black burning ball of his concern. And she knew why he was thinking, he was worried about his own career. It was as if the jolt of fear she’d felt upon seeing a disheveled Yin had kicked her into a higher state of awareness, where everything was revealed.
She shook her head at Jimson and mouthed, No. Never put all your cards on the table. Not yet. Let the disappointment sink in, then apply the salve of compromise.
“Completely unreasonable state,” the Shrill said. “Unreasonable, unresponsive, boredom, want to resolve.”
Tiphani let it slam itself against the cage walls a while longer. Jimson watched, open-mouthed, sweat beading on his brow.
“We can possibly arrange an alternate tour,” Tiphani said.
“Alternate not acceptable not interested (anger) fear now not interested.”
“What if you could meet some of our current competitors?”
Movement ceased. The Shrill crawled over to the side nearest them and pressed itself up against the diamondoid. “Current living competitors?”
“Yes.”
“Forms like yourself, sentient (intelligent)?”
“Yes.”
“Forms not yet sung (assimilated)?”
“Yes.”
A long pause. “That is an acceptable compromise (satisfaction.)”
“Thank you, ambassador,” Tiphani said, and dragged Jimson out of the room. She had only a few minutes to throw on a suit and run an autostyler through her hair.
“Remember, no talking,” she told Jimson as she headed out the door.
One minute before seven-thirty, she entered the VIP suite. Standing stiffly near the white leather couches, were two familiar figures and one she didn’t know. Honored Maplethorpe and Honored Yin – both now thankfully well-presented, thank the Holy Franchise – looked up when she entered, a complex mix of relief and annoyance playing beneath their carefully pokerfaced exteriors.
The third also looked up at her, smiling a smile so genuine it had to be calculated and fake. Tall and wide, he wore a severe black suit and a bright-red power tie, in the old fashion that had come back on some of the Disney worlds recently. He wore a brilliant diamond-and-gold Disney pin, the instantly recognizable mouse-ears, below a larger, multicolored pin showing four hands grasping wrists to form an interlinked diamond.
Tiphani frowned. She didn’t recognize that pin.
The man stepped forward and offered his hand. “Han Fleming,” he said. “Four Hands Coalition and Disney. Pleased to meet you, Ms. . . .”
“Chief Mirate,” Honored Maplethorpe said, offering a grim frown. “Chief Sentience Officer. Our liason with the Shrill ambassador.”
“Pleased to meet you, Chief Mirate,” Han Fleming said. “I am General Manager, Extraterrestrial Relations Division. My title approximates yours. I would be pleased to speak to you as an equal.”
“Mr. Fleming, I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the Four Hands Coalition.”
“Disney, Microcon, Diamond, and Mann-Westinghouse have joined in the largest cooperative venture in the history of mankind.”
“Larger than the Great Merger?” Tiphani asked.
“Yes,” Honored Yin said, tightly.
“Four Hands wishes to ensure that the secrets obtained by Winfinity are equally spread among all members of humankind’s community,” Han Fleming said.
Sudden illumination came. The other corporations were terrified of Winfinity getting the true secret of immortality. Nightmares of a Winfinity monopoly had finally driven them to band together. They’d talked about mergers and joint ventures before, but nothing had taken . . . until now.
She did the mental arithmetic. Disney, the entertainment powerhouse, Microcon, the software empire, and the twin manufacturing and land development concerns of Diamond and Mann-Westinghouse were, combined, roughly equal in size to Winfinity, if not a little larger.
And here they were, confident enough to send a single representative rather than four. That was power. That was unity. No wonder Winfinity was scared.
“A noble idea, Mr. Fleming,” Tiphani said.
“We believe it is, Chief Mirate,” Han said.
“I see one minor flaw.”
A polite tilt of the head. “And that is?”
“We have no secrets. Our diplomatic engagement with the Shrill has just begun; we are still in the show-and-tell phase.”
“Perhaps the considerable resources of the Four Hands Coalition could help you achieve your goals.”
“That is a generous offer, but I wouldn’t presume to speak for Winfinity.”
“I would,” Honored Maplethorpe said. “And I believe that Winfinity would invite you to make your own deals with the Shrill. We paid the price to acquire our Ambassador.”
“It is very difficult to open negotiations with the Shrill when you have blocked access to their home system and inhabited sphere with your corporate fleet.”
“The Shrill are dangerous,” Honored Maplethorpe said. “We consider it our duty to protect the general welfare of humanity.”
“Still, you would concede that it does pose a barrier to opening negotiations.”
“We would be more than happy to discuss terms for information-sharing once our negotiations with the Shrill ambassador are complete,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
“I’m sure you would,” Han said, offering another one of his too-genuine smiles. “Nevertheless, we must offer again the help of Four Hands in your current negotiations.”
“And we must respectfully decline, even given your earlier demonstration of most sincere earnestness.”
The smile froze. “You must admit the implicit right that Disney earned following first contact with our cruise ship Minnie II.”
“It was your golden opportunity. It is a pity you didn’t exercise it,” Honored Yin said.
“You cut us off!” Han said, wearing a momentary mask of rage. Han shook his head and composed himself. “It is regrettable, yes. But I hope you are not going to make an even more regrettable decision.”
Tiphani shivered, remembering stories of worlds lost on the edge of the Web, and tales of fragmented Mars. She ran the figures in her optilink and felt a thrill of fear. The Four Hands Coalition owned more of Mars than Winfinity, seventy percent of the developed asteroids, and virtually all the activity in the Jovian sphere. They had resources. They could bring a lot of pressure to bear.
“He was only a figurehead,” Honored Yin said.
“Who?” Tiphani said.
“The Original Sam,” Honored Maplethorpe said.
Meaning suddenly coalesced. Tiphani’s mouth dropped open.
Honored Yin nodded grimly. Images appeared on Tiphani’s optilink, overlaying reality with shades of plaid and red. The Original Sam, in his Original House, laying down for a night of forgetful slumber, wearing his original red-and-white-striped pajamas. A flash of light and a sudden crack, like the report of a gun. Blood and smoke geysered from Sam’s head, leaking from his eyes, curling from his ears. Moments later, smoke cleared to reveal a clean cauterized hole in his forehead, spattered grey with boiled brains.
One of the old weapons, we think, Honored Yin whispered through the optilink. Saved up by one of the Four Hands for a desperate time. Probably one-time use.
I see why we have to divert the Shrill, Tiphani subvocalized.
Yin transmitted the shrugged-shoulders icon of indifference. We’ll have a new Sam installed later today.
“We are very earnest in our request to work with you,” Han said.
“And we are very secure in our refusal.”
Han Fleming tilted his head to one side and smiled. A thin smile, a real smile. Combined with the leaden look of power in his eyes, a terrifying smile.
“I think you’ll agree you are not a figurehead,” he said to Honored Maplethorpe.
Before anyone could move, the room exploded in a booming crack. Flaming bits of composite ceiling rained down on the perfect white couches, and a patch of carpet directly in front of
Honored Maplethorpe flared to incandescence and disappeared into a smoking hole.
Honored Maplethorpe jumped back, losing his balance and falling to the floor. He pushed himself backwards with feet and hands, scrambling like an inverted spider, until he banged his head on the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city.
“That could just have easily cut you in two,” Han said, smiling his wide fake smile again.
Correction, Honored Yin sent through the optilink. It is probably a multiuse weapon.
Tiphani felt as if the room was receding from her. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. Crying. Something.
“I think . . . we can . . . work out a mutually beneficial agreement,” Honored Maplethorpe said, still pressed against the window.
Han Fleming smiled. “I said you’d agree I was a persuasive negotiator.”
“You are a complete ass,” Honored Yin said, extending a hand. “Welcome to the team.”
Han Fleming took her hand. Smiling.
June 14th, 2009 / 1,247 Comments »