Chapter 30

Even with Victor and Tess staying in one of our guest rooms – which I didn’t know we had, prompting more jokes from my wives – there wasn’t much of a change in our routine. I returned to practice Tuesday morning, handed out more bubble gum cigars, then spent the afternoons reviewing films again, this time with the entire team.

Robert flew as a passenger in the 747 that carried Columbia from California to Florida for a mid-September launch, so he could both supervise what Kennedy was going to do and coordinate with the other nations. They already had things set up and ready, they just needed the shuttle so they could put the Spacelab payload in it. Ginny stayed behind, where she continued to assist Melissa in the lab. The kids all started back to school at Menlo on that Tuesday as well.

I kept waiting for something eventful to happen outside the ordinary, all week. I was almost bothered because nothing did. Hannah and Michael came home Wednesday. With things being almost routine now for adding a new baby to the household, it wasn’t even challenging. Beth, Dora, and Eve started getting things ready to start back to school for us, with the only notable thing Angel-wise was Dora bringing in the ‘Night Stalker.’ or what was left of him when she got through with him, anyway. At least she saved California a trial.

The rest of the team returned on Tuesday morning for practice and picked up exactly where we’d left off. It was almost amusing to see the reactions of the assistant coaches. Both the AP and Coaches’ preseason poll had come out while we were off, with the Week One polls coming out on Wednesday. Not too surprisingly, the Coaches’ Poll didn’t change from one week to the next. The Coaches had Oklahoma, Auburn, Ohio State, Nebraska, and USC as their top five schools. The AP Poll did change, though. Their preseason poll had Oklahoma, Auburn, SMU, Iowa, and Florida for their top five. But their Wednesday poll changed and listed Stanford in fifth place.

After Friday’s practice was finished, Coach Elway called the team together for a meeting.

“Cardinal, as you’re aware, there is a slight discrepancy between the AP Poll and the Coaches Poll. Rumor has it there are a lot of pissed off Coaches in the SEC, the Big Eight, and the Big Ten. Something about a team thinking they’re so good, they don’t even need to practice, which makes their own players unhappy. I’m not going to say that you didn’t influence a lot of sports writers; you did. The other minor detail that there will officially be an actual championship game at the end of this season, and the AP Poll will be used to pick the four best teams, has generated a lot of controversy.”

He smiled at us. “I like that. You came back this week and it was like you hadn’t missed a day. I almost pity San Jose State next Saturday.” He raised a finger. “Still not enough to start Greg, though.”

There was a general round of laughter at that. He looked at me.

“I got a phone call from President Kennedy last night. He had a question for me I couldn’t answer. How big is your personal fan club going to be next weekend, Lewis?” There was another chuckle at that.

From where he was standing quietly and observing, Chuck pushed off from the wall. “Sorry to interrupt, but Cal really doesn’t know. I know you’ve seen some of the work being done to the stadium. We started it three weeks ago. Courtesy of the Federation jobs his wives do, and thus their international importance, substantial security work was needed. We’ve had to take over and do some remodeling to the middle third of the bottom row of enclosed stands. You can expect maybe two or three hundred in the stands that are directly related to the work we do, and then we’ll have fifty to sixty in what are now the CEDEM Stanford Corporate Suites. For your first game, I don’t think Her Majesty is going to the field, but the Prince Consort might.”

“The who?” Coach asked.

“Prince Philip. I think everyone’s met Diana, William, and Harry. Their grandmother is the Queen of England, of course. She’s never seen a real American football game in person, only some of the Super Bowl on television, so she’s excited about it,” Chuck calmly stated.

Elway sighed. “Of course she is.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head, a smile crossing his face as he reopened them.

“Cardinal, I think we’ve got a bit of a challenge now. Are we up to it?”

The roar inside the locker room wasn’t totally deafening, but darned near.

When we were on the way home, I asked, “So, Chuck, what are we doing at the away games?”

“Irritating a few universities, basically. Your first three away games we’re going to use Herky Birds for security and their transportation, with the upgraded ones for your family. The last two games have big enough airports, at Seattle and Phoenix, and are seven hundred miles one way, so we’ll use Pacific and Ayo Gorkhali for them. I think we’re probably looking at no more than three hundred security for each event.”

“How many?”

“Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas any more. This year is much worse, from our perspective, than last year. It was, all things considered, relatively easy to secure this.” He waved his hand in a circle. “The Stanford campus, your home, Moffett Field, Menlo School – from our perspective, this is all just like one big military installation, now. I’m not going to say that we own it, because we don’t. But we for damn sure have a presence on all of those portions that are still public, and people finally know not to fuck with us or you. Here. Out there? You’re liable to have fraternity kids decide they need to teach you a lesson, or people pissed off at the Yakima. Who the hell knows? I sure don’t.”

“Damn. Now I have to tell you the same thing I told Mike. You’re the expert, so I need to listen to you.”

“Honestly, little brother, I get it. You didn’t ask for any of it. It’s just this whole, big world has a bunch of people that don’t think rationally. Their wife left them because they’re a lousy lover. They got drunk and wrecked their car. They lost their job because they had a crappy attendance record. It’s never their fault. Then they fixate on someone else and decide that person is the cause of all their woes. That’s now their scapegoat. Talk to Victor sometime about it. People just love to pick Jews as their scapegoat. Damn Jews, they even killed Jesus, after all.”

“They didn’t, the Romans did, and it’s not like He stayed that way, and he was a Jew Himself. But, yeah, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Eve’s probably the best one of your wives to discuss the psychology of the masses with. Most people really don’t want that much out of the world. A home, a job, enough food on the table, and sex. Not necessarily in that order. Politely, that’s about ninety percent of everyone on the planet.”

I nodded. “I’ve read several dozen psychology texts as part of my legal studies here. That wasn’t something I actually read in any books on Star Home. The problem with psychology is that it’s not a science. It’s an art.”

“Okay, now you’ve got me confused,” Chuck replied, as we walked into the dining area.

“Calling it an art instead of a fuzzy field of study makes for less tension when you end up in a discussion about it,” I said.

Eve looked up from where she was eating lunch. “How’d you and Chuck end up talking about psychology?”

I answered with, “Psychology of the masses and scapegoats came up when we were discussing the amount of protection the family is going to need for my football games.”

Victor chuckled. “We know all about being scapegoats, and how manipulative only a few people have to be to influence enormous crowds and populations. Some of us have been guilty of the latter ourselves.”

Eve nodded. “Yes, you have. But I can see Chuck is still confused. It’s simple, and is something that honest psychology professionals realize. Psychology isn’t a science, not like the other sciences, anyway. Don’t get me wrong. Psychologists use the scientific method in their studies and experiments. They come up with their theories, they collect their data, and they draw their conclusions. Sure, that sounds like science. What that actually is, is using the principles of science. The problem that psychologists don’t want to face is ... well, let me come at this from another way, because I could see some eyes starting to glaze.”

There were several laughs at that.

“Okay, Chuck. Is Chemistry a science?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

“What makes it a science, though?”

“Um ... because of how chemicals work?”

“Close enough. The Periodic Table of the Elements is the foundation. That’s something every chemist around the world agrees upon, because it doesn’t matter whether you’re in England, America, or Saudi Arabia, under similar conditions, chemicals all perform the same way. That’s how we can make Ice-X in Punjab that’s exactly the same as the Ice-X made in Kansas. At the same time, doing research in the lab, someone can take the work Cal has done and expand upon it, like Lily did with their finding of a treatment, if not an actual cure, for diabetes, even if it was accidental. Physics works the same way. You get some basic information and then you add to it. If you find something that explains things better, it can supplant what came before, like how quantum mechanics and general relativity provide better explanation than Newtonian physics. It doesn’t void what came before, it simply helps provide a more detailed explanation based upon further understanding.”

“Pardon me for interrupting, but you’re talking about how Einstein’s formula helped with the creation of the atomic bomb, aren’t you?”

Eve nodded. “Yes, Victor. Energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. I know you and Tess have been introduced to Pahto, so you know that while she knows of other fields of physics, the basics were the same where she came from as well.”

Pausing, Eve looked thoughtful, then turned to the television and camera. “Pahto, the reason we don’t consider psychology a science is because the theories behind it keep changing. What seems to be the science of mind and behavior versus behaviorism and cognitivism, or animalism versus tribalism, psychologists here can’t even agree upon what it is they’re supposed to be studying, let alone what to study. A theory comes out, then data is collected that supports that theory, then later another theory comes out and data is collected to support that theory, which completely contradicts the first theory. Sure, psychologists use the scientific method, but with nothing completely repeatable as an actual basis, we don’t have a science. What did your normal born think?”

Pahto replied, “My interactions with the general population were limited. I’ve already mentioned most of my normal born crew were considered atavistic, as they actually sought to explore that which was unknown in the universe. If a normal born member of my crew felt stress or what you would refer to as a mental burden, there were trained Counselors that could give advice and help seek resolution. However, what I think you’re asking is whether or not we considered what you term psychology to be a science. They did not. Even those who helped ‘created intelligences’ when we had difficulties with things, did not consider themselves scientists, not like the ones who helped design us in the first place.”

“You could have mental difficulties?” Tess asked.

“Oh, yes. Just because I am created instead of natural does not mean my ‘brain’ is any less complex than yours, it’s simply larger. A normal born brain contains, on average, about eighty-six billion neurons, with each neuron having, on average, seven thousand synapses, and a total brain weight of about three pounds. You could consider the rest of your body weight simply support equipment for those three pounds. My basic brain is, of course, considerably larger than yours, but contains approximately the same number of neuron equivalents. My entire brain contains nearly five times that number. That doesn’t take into consideration my external memory units, of course, which are both equal in size and capacity to my entire brain. As for how we could have difficulties...”

She paused, looking down, then looked back up at us.

“Just as normal born have emotions and feelings, we ‘created intelligences’ do as well. We’re not mindless computers, simply operating systems on the ship. I was the ship. My permanent crew of normal born numbered nearly a thousand, ranging from my Commander and the five members of his staff to over four hundred engineering and maintenance technicians. That doesn’t include their families in that number, for those that had families. Some even lived their whole lives in me, but those were few in number. You know how you feel sadness and loss when a member of your family dies, of course. To watch someone be born, grow up, and live within you, helping to care for you while you provide for them for twenty-five centuries, you can’t help but feel the emptiness left when they die. Commanders were never allowed to remain on board for more than five hundred years at a time, because of the love that would develop between the ship and her Commander.”

Carrie frowned. “I’m a little confused by numbers. When we found you, you said that you normally had six to seven thousand normal born crew, but now you just mentioned only having a thousand.”

“Oh, my apologies for not clarifying that before now. The difference is simple. Permanent crew, those assigned to me, versus mission crew, those assigned for exploration, colonization, trade, or scientific research, during whatever mission I needed to perform. Some mission crew might only be in me from one world to the next, while others might have been in me for three or four hundred years. I’ll also clarify that I’m speaking of subjective years for them, due to their use of stasis pods.”

Tess nodded. “Yes, I can see where dealing with that could cause you to have mental difficulties. I apologize if I’ve brought up bad memories for you, I’m sorry.”

Pahto sadly smiled. “The last of my crew died tens of thousands of years ago. I’ve not had contact with any member of my people for more than forty thousand years. Until I was rescued, I’d spent most of the last seven thousand years without any real idea of what was happening. I could pick up some few thoughts from people that lived in the area that were the descendants of some of the survivors of my crew, but I couldn’t hold conversations like this, or do anything about it. I’ve had a long time to consider what contingencies my creators had in mind for us, as our normal lifespan ... well, had no real, actual number. We couldn’t self-terminate – that’s due to a difficulty one ship had when she grew too attached to her Commander and he died. They’d not considered that previously. She at least evacuated her crew before putting herself into a solar trajectory and overloading her quantum gravity field drive. Unfortunately, in her grief, she failed to consider all aspects of that situation.”

“How big was the explosion?” I asked.

“It was close enough to the galactic core that it took out six complete star systems and started two wars.”

Victor and Tess looked confused, while those of us who understood were horrified.

“What was the final death toll?” Dora quietly asked.

“Approximately one hundred forty billion normal born, across eight inhabited planets, with another fifty million on various spacecraft. That was two hundred thousand years before I was created, but those protocols were instituted and kept in place afterwards. To be honest, I recommend them for your own created intelligences, when you begin to manufacture them.” She tersely smiled, saying, “Being alone with yourself for any number of millennia beats going out with a bang.”

The silence that followed her pronouncement stretched along for an uncomfortable period before anyone said anything.

“That’s definitely something that Bob should discuss with Isaac Asimov,” Eve said. “The three laws of robotics are completely and fatally flawed when the creation is an actual intelligence. I know he covered it, to a certain extent, in his ‘Bicentennial Man’ story, but ... what you’re talking about, this is true humanity.”

Helen nodded. “Pahto, please do not think I’m putting you off on this at all, but we’ll need you to talk to Walter and the others after we deal with Shiva. To a certain extent, we’ve been making this up as we go along. Making sure that we have codified rights for created intelligences is something we’ll want in our eventual Federation Constitution and Charter.”

Victor surprised me by nodding. “Making certain that we have good policies in place for the Federation is incredibly important. We chose wisely when we wanted Hannah to get together with Cal; we simply had no idea how wisely. And now, we have another grandchild, and the title will continue, the family will continue. Miss Pahto, I am sorry that you were isolated for so long. I thank you for your suffering to make sure humanity survived.”

“You are welcome, Victor Rothschild. I wondered, at times, if it was worth it. Meeting all of you and becoming a part of this new family has shown me that it was.”

Saturday morning after breakfast, we had a visitor arrive.

William and I were sitting outside on the driveway, where he was supervising me while I adjusted the seat of his new tricycle. He’d tried to ride it a couple of times already, but had complained that it’d hurt his knees. We were deep in conversation about how he’d keep growing, and would eventually get a bigger bike like the rest of us when I heard a polite cough.

“I know you’re there, Jerry. Who’s more important to me?”

“Your step-son, of course. I apologize for interrupting.”

William said, “I try it now, Daddy.”

“Only on the flat part. Eddie will be with you, and make sure you don’t go down the hill. You’re not ready for that yet.”

“Okay, Daddy! C’mon, Eddie!” The former Special Boat Service and Protection Agent that primarily watched over William and his brother, Harry, nodded and took off running as William began pedaling away.

“Now, what can I do for you, Jerry?”

With a sigh, the British Consul General, Sir Jerome Green simply said, “Obviously, Her Majesty is coming for a rather informal visit with her grandchildren. She and the Prince Consort will be arriving in San Francisco on Thursday afternoon. I’ve been asked to find out two things from you. The first is whether or not you wish or need to have any formal engagements or discussions.”

When he paused, I figured the second question was dependent upon my answer, so I replied, “No, not in the least. I realize that Elizabeth will be staying with you, or at a hotel somewhere, but we’re going to be as lacking in formality when she’s visiting as I am with you. Oh, I do have a present for Philip. A cane that I’ve made, to replace the one I broke. But that’s about as formal as I plan on being. Honestly, with my football game preparation, I’m leaving it up to my wives to determine our menus and such.”

“Thank you, I’ll pass that on. The second thing I’ve been asked is, what would be your response if His Highness Prince Charles came along on this visit?”

“Someone must’ve put you up to that one, knowing that I sort of like you, as I won’t shoot the messenger, right?”

He blinked, then said, “That particular question did not come from either Her Majesty or Prince Philip.”

“Nicely answered. In all honesty, I haven’t been paying much attention. I’m guessing that Charles’ status with the British people has gone from beloved Prince with his beautiful wife and lovely heirs to the throne to something ... much less than that. Now that I think of it, probably something along the lines of, ‘How dare he!’ or ‘what a cad!’”

Parroting my comment, Jerome said, “In all honesty ... that’s being generous. The tabloids are what they are – printing gossip, rumor, and innuendo. The mood of the people of the Commonwealth nations feeds from those tabloids. That’s not to say they’re not telling the truth in some things; for they are. The Church of England is in an uproar as well. They oppose remarriage of divorcees, and the Parliamentary act that permitted Prince Charles and Princess Diana to divorce was pushed through without their consent. Her Majesty is the supreme governor of the Church, which puts His Highness in their spotlight because he has publicly begun seeing Parker-Bowles again.”

He stopped talking, then simply stood by my side while I watched William riding his tricycle for a few minutes.

“Sir Jerome, the United States is a free nation. If His Highness Prince Charles wishes to visit this country at any time, he is more than welcome to do so. We do not control the travel of people or the decisions they make. There are many beaches in California, and we are certain that the Prince could even find some polo grounds to indulge himself. He is a free citizen of the Commonwealth. However, we do consider our wife and step-sons in decisions that we make, and their joy and happiness in this world is considerably more important to us than any persons’ choice of place to visit. Thus, we cannot prevent Prince Charles from committing suicide, if he so chooses. Does that make our official position perfectly clear?”

Bringing his feet together and bowing his head slightly, Jerome said, “Perfectly clear, Your Majesty.” He had a slight smile on his face as he said that.

“Jerry, you and I both know that if Chuck is stupid enough to come anywhere near either of those two boys, his mother will be attending a funeral with an empty coffin. Make sure that fucking idiot understands I’m not playing around.”

He looked around a bit, then softly replied, “Between us, I almost wish the fucking idiot would show up here. I think it’d improve the family if he disappeared. Of course, I didn’t say that out loud, because he is the Crown Prince, after all.”

“Jerry, just out of curiosity, do you know Baron Rothschild?”

“I know of him, of course.”

“Come on in, let’s go introduce you to both he and his successor, Michael.” I raised my voice a bit. “William, ten more minutes, then it’s time for your morning nap!”

“Aww, Daddy!”

After Jerry left, I spent the rest of the day just being a husband, listening to my wives talk about their work and playing with the kids.

After breakfast Sunday morning, my three youngest wives pulled me aside for a group discussion.

“Cal, when do you think you’re going to be able to come up with something for airplane safety? There was another plane crash on Friday that killed more than thirty people. I know that I couldn’t have done anything about it, but now I’m curious if it’s something we can work on with Pahto, on our own,” Beth said.

“Um ... let’s see. Mycroft should have in his files how we made our bikes. The three of you are each smarter than I was when I got here. I simply had an advantage with my basic education. Have you all read everything in all the libraries here?” I asked.

“We’re idiots. No, we haven’t,” Eve replied. “I don’t think, even after what has already happened, that we’ve adjusted our mental thinking. We’re still following you, depending upon you to come up with the solutions, while we just implement them.”

“That’s an adjustment you’re going to have to make both individually and as a group. I think your Mom was right. This is part of growing up not just for the three of you, but for all four of us. Shit, I was complaining about not actually getting to be a kid just the other day. It’d almost be funny if we all really didn’t have the fate of the world on our shoulders. At the same time, the advice I was given was to simply live life. When Shiva gets here, we deal with him, then the aftermath, and just consider it a bad week, then move on.”

Beth snorted. “You know, that’s probably the best advice any of us have gotten. We have these powers and abilities. But we’re not comic book characters. We’re just teenagers, even if you are from another planet. I’ve got an idea.”

“Movie time!” Dora exclaimed. “Let’s go to a movie theater, just the four of us.”

“No James Bond films, though,” I said.

“No, mi amor. I have the perfect one in mind.”

I followed her lead. We grabbed some things, then headed for the garage. Rather than take one of the Suburbans, we loaded up into the Silver Cloud. I hadn’t had a chance to drive it yet, and this was a perfect opportunity. I saw Sayel simply shake his head and smile, then get his motorcycle helmet.

“Oh, this is going to be fun, isn’t it?” I said.

“Did you forget this was right hand drive?” Beth asked.

“Yeah. How comfortable is it in the back?”

“There’s plenty of room back here if we ended up making out,” Dora replied.

The car had Punjab flags mounted on the fenders, with a California license plate on it that read, ‘PUNJAB-1,’ and a second, smaller plate with ‘Foreign Organization’ on it. That ought to take care of any police, especially since Sayel’s bike was fully equipped with police lights and weapons.

I noticed that we drove by the Stanford Theatre. “I take it we have to go someplace else?”

“Si, mi amor. They’re doing a series of classic silent movies right now, because the University is not in session. They have a Wurlitzer pipe organ and a live organist. We have plans to take everyone there during Christmas break.”

“Okay, I was just wondering. Now, which way?”

“Northwest, to San Mateo. They have both appropriate showing times as well as the movie we wish to see.”

Since it was Sunday, parking was free. It was also early enough that there weren’t many cars in downtown San Mateo. I found a spot and pulled in. Sayel pulled up next to the Rolls.

“One moment, Master. Will you please give me the key, so I can open the boot?”

Puzzled, I did so. He opened the trunk and took out what I thought were two portable sawhorses. He set them up in the parking spots to either side of the Rolls. I realized they were actually signs. Each of them had the same wording.

‘1958 Rolls Royce Silver Cloud – completely original – the security guard watching this vehicle is armed and will not allow you to touch it.’

“We had similar signs in India, of course, except they simply said this vehicle is owned by the Thug. If you wish to die, please feel free to touch his car,” Sayel said.

I shook my head. “Somehow, I doubt you had many takers. Are you going in with us?”

“No, Master. I will remain here and guard your vehicle. While it is possible you could get into trouble in a motion picture theater, I doubt that you will be in any danger.”

“My, you have had a bit of a change of attitude,” I commented.

“It is not a change of attitude, it is an acceptance that you are an avatar, and we were fated to meet. Becoming your slave and servant was something I was meant to do, so I could learn more regarding life and living.”

A San Mateo police car pulled up in the street. Before the officer got out of his car, I saw him get on the radio. After about a minute, he rolled the passenger window down. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t park here all day.”

“I’m just here to see a movie with my wives.”

“I figured, since the theater’s the only thing open this early on Sunday. May I take a closer look at your car?”

I looked at Sayel, who grinned and said, “Certainly, Officer. My name is Sayel Pashtar. I’ll be watching my Master’s car today.”

My wives and I left him talking to the police officer, and headed to the box office. The price for all four of us as under eighteen patrons was ten dollars, and then another fifteen for snacks. There weren’t many others at the theater this morning, so we got seats dead center and about fifteen rows from the screen. After a few minutes of us chatting about the upcoming football game, the lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

After several minutes of previews, the main attraction started. I hadn’t been paying attention to the movie title when I bought tickets, simply asking for theater four. When the opening started, I realized the main actor was the same one from ‘Back to the Future’ and turned to look at Dora. She smiled, and nodded back at the screen. ‘Teen Wolf?’ What the hell kind of movie was it she wanted to watch?

At the end of the movie, Beth was wrapped in my arms, crying. I actually understood why, which surprised me, because I got the point of the movie, at least for us. Dora and Eve both had smiles of satisfaction on their faces, and once the lights came back up, helped me get Beth to the lobby, then they escorted her to the bathroom so she could get her composure back.

One of the theater workers was puzzled, seeing her crying. “That’s a comedy, dude. What’d you do to make your girl so sad she was crying?”

“She’s Jack Kessler’s cousin. Such a tragedy with him, getting killed in London.”

“Who?”

I saw my wives coming out of the bathroom, and looked at him. “You poor man. You thought John Landis came up with his movie idea from gypsies, and not from real events.” Then I started singing, “Don’t go around tonight, well, it’s bound to take your life,” as I held my hand out for Beth and escorted her out to the car.