I examined the hologram in silence. Stephen appeared to be correct. We’d completely missed the fact that the impellers were pointing in two opposite directions. “I guess it makes sense. There’s no logical reason to give one direction priority over the other. This way you can go downstream in either direction, by just switching river systems.”
Stephen examined the hologram for several more full seconds, then pointed to the radiators on the dark side of the strand. “Heat dispersal is of course a problem. The topopolis, by its nature, is a mostly closed system. And the artificial sun simply dumps more heat into the habitat. They've designed things to extract heat through an exchange system with the outer shell that actually generates electricity from the gradient. Brilliant! Then it's transferred to the cooling fins on the outer shell to be radiated into space. I imagine the heat signature would be significant.”
“Significant enough to be seen from light-years away,” I said, smiling. Stephen was hitting it out of the park.
He continued to examine the document, but appeared to have extracted all the revelations he could. He finally sighed, sat back, and gestured at the image. “Can I get a copy of this? Could I use it in my lectures?”
“I don’t see why not, it's not a secret. Although there is some controversy in the Bobiverse about whether we should even be getting involved.”
Stephen snorted. “You’d think being dead would free you from the dictates of politics, but apparently it's even more inevitable than death or taxes. Do you know that I endure protests regularly?”
My eyebrows went up in surprise. “Protests? At the university?”
“Yes. There is some sentiment that I shouldn't be taking up a position that could be filled by a living human being.”
“Unbelievable.” I shook my head. “And the university's position?”
“They take the stance that they will consider replacing me when a replacement candidate is found with my qualifications.”
“Eminently logical. Probably drive the protesters crazy.”
Stephen smiled. “Which is why I am so hopeful that your brother Howard's human-android-interface project will show some early success.”
“I… what?” Apparently, Howard had his fingers in more pies than I knew. “I'm visiting him after a leave here, I'll certainly ask him about that.” I shifted forward in my chair. “Thank you very much, Professor Gilligan. You've been a great help.”
Stephen waved off the complement. “It is my job, after all. But you don't have to leave just yet, do you? I’d love to learn more about the Bobiverse, as you call it.”
“Not at all. What would you like to know?” I wasn't in a big hurry, and little quid pro quo wasn't unreasonable.
The conversation with Prof. Gilligan had been fascinating, and he had extracted a promise from me to keep them updated and possibly even invite them into the group. I would have to discuss that with the others, but the professor had a large knowledge set, and in my opinion would be an asset.
Meanwhile Howard was next on my list. I wanted to talk with one of the other Bobs about some personal issues, and Howard seem like the best idea, since he lived in human society full-time. The conversation with Professor Gilligan just added more fuel.
I pinged Howard and received an invitation and a Manny address. I entered the Manny, and in seconds I was stepping out of the pod in Howard and Bridget's apartment. Bridget waved at me from her seat and went back to what she was doing. She appeared to be working on a computer, but the monitor was virtual, floating in the air in front of her. Parts of the image were typical 2D info, but other parts were 3D and appeared to pop out from the image. It was not only holographic, but also touch sensitive. I checked my libraries and realized this was a breed of computer called a Canvas. Quite neat. Almost as good as the metaphors we used in virt.
“Hey Will,” Howard said, motioning me to the couch. “What’s cooking?” I sat, glanced down at my hands, and realized I was in a generic Manny. I wasn't sure why, but I'd been expecting to find myself in a Bob model.
I held up my hands. “Uh…”
“Sorry, Bud. If you wanted a Bob Manny, you’d have to pick one up from the public storage pods. We've got a couple-”
“Public storage pods?”
“Generic and custom Mannies stored for individuals and organizations, according to need or available for rental. Just vehicles. We, by which I mean the Bobiverse, maintain a couple of Bob Mannies in all major cities in human space. The monthly storage cost is trivial.”
“Paid and what?” I said, then held up my hand before Howard could answer. “Sorry. I came to ask you a couple of questions, and the questions are multiplying faster than I can even articulate them. I’ve been pretty much sidelined on Valhalla for a couple of decades now, Howard, and I feel like a hermit who is just hiked back down to civilization to discover cell phones.”
Howard granted my discomfiture. Even Brigid smiled briefly without turning around, listening with at least one ear apparently.
“Okay, well to answer the last question first: Pams. They’re a unit of currency that have been adopted across human space. Stands for Printer Autofactory Minutes. Basically, it's the value of one minute of auto factory time.”
“But that’s ridiculous, you can just print more auto factories, and you'll have…”
“More available autofactory minutes, but with reduced value due to inflation. Like a government back on Earth, printing more currency. In fact, very much the same type of feedback systems. An economist from the 21st century would get it right away. The threat of reducing the value of a Pam demotivates companies from making too many autofactories.”
I waved it away. “Okay, it makes sense, I guess. But I want to ask about something Professor Gilligan said. Something about baseline humans being able to wear a Manny?
