Chapter 3

Dean Xltraxx was a piece of work. Yep, despite being an autocrat, essentially Emperor, his official title was 'Grand Dean', and that was derivative of the society's history. His CV showed he had spent over 35 years - their years, slightly less than 390 days - matriculating at all the best schools on the planet. Same as if someone on earth had degrees from Harvard, Yale, MIT, Oxford, Cambridge, Stanford and UC Berkeley with Sorbonne thrown in for giggles, I supposed. Ironically, he had no record of teaching or administration at those schools or anywhere else.

As I suspected those degrees all referred to the Social Sciences. Yes their "MIT" has social sciences, relative to interaction with AI. I'd already snooped, there were NO curricula on AI engineering. Meaning they assumed that AI were eternal and always going to be there, self replicating at the least.

When I was ushered into his Official office, I was amused to see it arranged as a triangle with a 'rocker' at the base. His desk, for want of a better word, simply a flat shimmery surface, no legs, and nothing on it as I could see; near the triangle's apex. Indicating I suppose all power leading to, or emanating from, him.

As I got within about 50 feet I was told to take a seat. I looked around, a pallet rose from the floor right behind me. I sat and a holoscreen popped up beside me. At the same time, one appeared, in front of him. A deep baritone voice welcomed me and asked how I found my new position so far. Since I had been on planet less than a day and done absolutely nothing at all, I replied things were going great.

Of course, the Dean thought that I was a native, my background having been manufactured by Aye with all the required qualification. meaning degrees from the best schools but only about ten years worth.

Pleasantries finally aside, he informed me, using a lot of academic words in an accent that reminded strongly of William F Buckley imitating a Trinity College don, that he expected me to assemble all the proper academics to solve the problem of the less educated and backward population minority who couldn't or wouldn't follow the recommended high path to education. Those who liked to repair or build things that obviously had no real use, practically or artistically, in an advanced civilization.

Long story short, he wanted a lot of study, papers and meetings leading to a 'Final Solution' consensus to deal with these throwbacks.

{Author's note: Though, due to the AI having downloaded language translator, I understood the words he was using, I cannot actually express them in writing. This I paraphrase in commonspeak.}

I politely asked when the results of these were due.

"I consider the problem urgent. We need to do something about it within twenty or thirty years. They are becoming a drag on our economy because some misguided people think their junk is worth credits, just for the novelty."

"Is that really harmful? Some would call that discretionary spending."

I could see from the holoprojection of his facial expression, he thought I was nuts.

"How many hours of coursework does that subvert?"

"True," I responded. I already knew that the entire economy was based on education and health care. The latter being relatively insignificant for the last couple centuries.

"I suppose someone has a list of all these backward people?"

"Of course not. Who in their right mind, even AI, would waste time on such a mundane project?"

"Well ... Perhaps some primary school students?"

The DEAN appeared deep in thought.

"Hmmm ... that's a good idea. I knew you were the right person for this job. Perhaps you should start meeting with a few demographic and youth education experts to get that underway."

Yeah, right, I thought. Mercifully, he then dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I didn't even ask about 'progress reports' deadlines. I reckoned he would call me when he wanted them. And my head hurt just dealing with him. I wondered how much more difficult it would be to deal with lesser lights, even if the only reason to associate with them would be to put up a good show, I'd still have to listen to them pontificate on nonsense.

But other sensations overcame the headache on the way back.

I was hungry, and I was horny.

Taking care of the hungry part was easy. Apparently meals had been taken over by bot-replicators for centuries, most scademics had even gotten over the custom of 'Social Dining' There was no such thing as a 'Restaurant' on this planet. Instead most people carried what we would call 'Energy Bars' and consumed them in private.

In our little group, though, dealing with meals would be a problem. For our first meal, the ladies came up with a sentimental tribute to our past lives, by programming the replicators, with Aye's help, for Mac'n'Cheese, Beans and weinies, and a surprisingly tasty Caesar Chicken salad. The women kept pushing new plates in front of me till I told them to stop or I wouldn't be able to move. Which in turn brought titters and giggles on how I might work it off.

I was amused that the eating utensils appeared to be plates and cups of a fine china while we curiously had sporks, but appearing to be fine silver. I tested it and it had a peculiar feel something like carbon fiber, which I suspected it was. No real problem with that but I made a mental note to have the girls create proper tableware.

After supper we met and I reported on my meeting with the Grand Dean. The women had lots of questions on how I thought we would proceed with the regeneration project, specifically how to develop their roles in the scheme. Aye had tested their talents and skills and had made up an education database for each of them, they just weren't sure how to use those new skills.

Leishawn raised her hand to speak. She hadn't changed much, there. Outwardly friendly and warm she still had some reserve as if she wasn't sure of her place. She was the only black woman in the group and the only one I hadn't slept with in the former life.

Which had created some amusement when we met at the portal. I knew her from working together on several projects when I was middle-aged and she was early twenties. I'd been paired with her as peer mentor, a program where senior and junior tech support folks were linked up for career development.

"What ... who ... Jason! Where am I and what am I doing here?"

"Hi, Leishawn." I gave her a big hug and she reciprocated as she always had, with a bigger hug. Aye had already filled me in on how Leishawn's life had gone since I knew her and it caused me some pain. The knowledge wasn't especially damning but it showed how some decisions made with the best intentions weren't necessarily the right decisions.

The decision in question was a one time thing. We'd gone to lunch together as was our custom every month or so and on the incident in question, she asked me to stop by her apartment on the way back to work. Now that, as I knew, was a strong signal. More so when I couldn't really see any urgent reason for the stop. And if it had been any other female work friend, we might have gotten back to the office about an hour late. But the signal was mixed and confusing.

Because she related to me that she only dated white guys; that her current boy friend lived over an hour away; That they only got together every couple of weeks at her place; that she hadn't met most of his friends or his parents. In other words the guy was using her. I could understand why she would only date whites, she had an engineering degree and was determined to have a good career, and wasnt especially good looking. She didnt have a weight problem and had a good figure but her face didn't inspire as much as Lena Horne or Diana Ross. She looked more a lanky Oprah Winfrey, but still with a nice ass. And a great smile. She beat Oprah there by hands-down.