01. When the Changewinds Blow (30 page)

Sam listened, feeling more ashamed than ever that she'd allowed herself to, well, vegetate was the right term, while Charley was figuring.

"After maybe three months," Charley continued, "I had lots of money, freedom of movement, and with a lot of concentration I picked up enough of the language to make my wants known. I don't speak it, really, but I can understand a lot of what's said if I really concentrate. I always was good at languages and I didn't have much else to do. Reading's different-they have like
thousands
of characters-but I know the most common ones, like which is the ladies' room and 'store,' 'restaurant,' and stuff like that. I bought different foods to try, got a bunch of nice other things, and after I spotted a couple of the goons who'd mugged us staking out this building I bought a knife and a blow gun. The blow gun's neat. But they never came in. I figured, though, that was why you never looked in. I didn't
dream
you were having such a bad time. When the time passed and there was a tenth little bottle-I kept careful count-I figured the heat was still on or maybe expenses were high. I really didn't care. This was the best time I had since getting sucked into this place." She paused, and added, in a slightly more distant tone, "It's the best time overall I ever had in my life."

She looked at Sam and then kissed her gently on the cheek. "Poor Sam! Well, your demon's right. I kind'a think that neither one of us come close to the descriptions. You know, I wonder what Boday could do with you as you are?"

"Huh? Charley-look at me!"

"I know, I know. I don't mean body painting, and I don't mean me, but maybe she can make the best of a bad situation. We have a ways to go."

Sam stared at her. "Charlie-you just finished soundin' to me like you don't wanna go, don't wanna give this up."

"I don't," she admitted, "but you need me. You don't
know
what this has done for me, Sam. But, anyway, a girl can't operate independently in this society, and you need Boday. Don't hate her too much for this, Sam. She did it for you, but she also was kind'a being a secret revolutionary. Women would control all the vice in this town, top to bottom. That's power, Sam. And influence, if you know the names of the ones who use it most. Come on-get out of that ridiculous set of tatters and tell Boday to go to sleep in the corner, then get some rest yourself. Order her to wake us up if she wakes up first. Once we're rested we can find out how much we're worth and go from there."

Sam stripped, which wasn't hard and gave great relief, but she didn't just sit Boday in a corner. She used the jewel.

"Boday--I wish that you would be totally obedient to my needs and wishes," she said. "I also wish that from this point on you will be incapable of lying to me or to Charley, of doing anything concerning me or Charley without telling me first, and that you will obey any order that either of us gives to you. I wish that from now on your sole interest in me will be satisfying my desires, not anticipating them."

Done!
said the demon, and there was a bit of satisfaction in its usual cold tone.

Boday was not exactly a changed woman when they awoke, and had no regrets, but now she wanted only to be cooperative and promised that she would never
think
of doing something like that again.

She had a perfect eye for figures, even bad ones, so they sent her out that afternoon to find out just how much money they had, to cancel her deals, and to buy some appropriate doming for Sam while Charley cooked breakfast. Sam did more than clean her plate. In fact, she ate most everything that was left in the kitchen.

Charley watched, fascinated in spite of herself. "How much
do
you weigh, anyway?"

"The demon says about two forty-five. Don't say it. I'm a walking bowling ball with two huge fingers and I know it. I'm gonna eat compulsively and I got to live with it. At least I don't hav'ta worry 'bout my figure."

Charley smiled, but she knew it was killing Sam. It was the perfect demonic punishment. Sam would get to Boolean or die now. Her friend just hoped that the near perfection that would accompany that journey would inspire rather than breed envy and resentment.

Charley had a couple of saris she'd bought in case she had to make a run for it. They were kind of pretty but her eyes and jewelry would mark her, of course, as one of
those
kind of women. She didn't care anymore. Boday returned with a cotton robe with hood that fit loosely and a pair of sandals and a lot of material. "Darling-much more in your size Boday will have to make," she said apologetically. Shari's costumes and few personal belongings were packed in two black bags. The bags were there anyway; Shari, after all, had been set to move. Where they moved was back to Boday's loft.

The account information was not bad, less than great. Between fees and tips Charley had earned in the year more than thirty thousand sarkis, and Boday, with her "art" for others, had brought in another ten thousand and still had two of her creations. Charley didn't like it, but it was too late to do much for them. They would bring perhaps two thousand five hundred more. That was forty-two hundred, and Charley had held out about a thousand, of which she had something like five hundred now. Forty-two five in sounded good. But almost six thousand had gone for Charley's support services, and their initial money had covered only the first and last month on Charley's apartment, and there went another six thousand. The loft had been renewed for another two thousand. Another eight had gone for Sam and Boday's food, clothing, living expenses, Boday's materials, and close to five for a deposit and decorating on the new place. The cash on hand actually amounted to a bit under fourteen thousand two hundred sarkis.

"I can't believe it!" Sam exclaimed. "One whole fucking year and we're still
short?
Not just short-
way
short! Can't we at least get the deposit back on the new place? That'd add another two thousand."

Boday shook her head. "Sorry, darling. Once the decoration and furnishings were done there was no way out."

"I could always take the two girls in there and run them with me in the new place for a little while," Charley suggested. "If we ran seven days and all got booked we'd have it in another month. After a year, what's another month?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, and so we take in eight grand and we spend three on expenses. That makes it two months. But in two months we owe two more grand in rent. Three months. My demon will have shit fits by then, and so will I."

More delay is unacceptable,
the demon agreed.
Money or not, you have enough to start. I will give you thirty days to do so. Every day you are in Tubikosa beyond that you will gain another kilogram. With your height, weight, and frame, another thirty kilograms and you will be unable to walk or get up on your awn.

She was close to tears. "But, damn it, we don't have enough! Besides, it's counterproductive. What does it gain
you
if Boday has to pull me in a rickshaw or whatever-if she could? Besides, I bet I eat fifty sarkis a day worth. That adds to the cost."

You eat whatever would otherwise be spoilage, but your weight will be maintained if you eat relatively normally. I will suppress hunger until necessary. You are giving up again. Giving up before you even try.

Sam tried to repeat the conversation but gave up and just broke down and sobbed. "I'm so
miserable!"
she cried. "I'd kill myself if they'd let me!"

Charley sat back and thought. Finally she said, "Look, we can probably scrounge up enough stuff by liquidating the new place's furnishings and what has value here. And we can't afford to be fussy about this navigator and these Pilots. We take what we can get for the money, that's all. Calm down and ask Boday what ways we can do this on the cheap."

The artist thought it over. "The old price was for our
own navigator and secure Pilots. If we just sign on with someone else's trip and take it as far as it is going, then found another and so on, and were not fussy about the company or the accommodations, it would be much cheaper."

"I understood her," Charley said, quieting Sam's translation. "I'm getting pretty good at it. Can't speak it worth a damn, though, except some single words and the Short Speech. I just play mute and communicate real fine. Okay, that's a lot, and we got your demon jewel to help out, too. If it's the one in the all-fired hurry, it should be ready and willing to help pull the weight. So will we, wherever we can. And if we get stuck and broke real close to the goal line, then we can find some kind of work or other. Hell, Boday's an alchemist and you could stomp grapes if you had to, and as for me, I kind'a think that if we're in human territory my special skills are universal. Maybe old Boolean will get antsy and break his tails and come get us or send help if he really wants you, particularly if we get close and no cigar. Cheer up. We may still be on the wanted list but ain't nobody gonna finger us as the ones, and after this long they probably wrote us
off."

Sam stared at her. "Yon make it sound so
easy."

"No. It's gonna be hard and nasty and probably real unpleasant, but if it wasn't possible Boolean wouldn't'a stuck you with that demon. Too bad we can't afford to go to that university, though. I bet they could figure out a thing or two and tell us what all this is about, too. I figure I just been to graduate school. I think maybe I want to see a little bit of this world and what's out there."

Sam sighed. "You're not only beautiful, you got the guts I wish I had and the brains to use 'em. God, I feel miserable."

"Hey! I'm scared shitless by this. That apartment-that was
safe
after one hell of a series of scares nobody should have to go through. But I grew up a whole lot this past year and I know you can't keep hiding and feeling miserable for yourself an the time and do anything worthwhile." She looked at both of mem. "Three women against a whole world. One fat broad, one lovesick painted loony, and one high-class call girl. It's the stuff of which legends are born. But, first things first. I looked at the material and at Boday's sewing stuff and I got an idea that'll help you a whole lot. I think it's about time somebody in this shitty burg invented the bra."

Boday was actually thunderstruck by the design and the concept. She was built so she'd never need one, and Charley had been designed never to need one, but it wasn't just Sam who did. Charley managed the basic sketch and, with gestures, pretty much described the thing and how it worked. It took some help from Sam, but once Boday got the idea her designer's mind was off in a tear. The first few tries didn't really work-not stiff enough, not enough support stitching- but after a while she got it. It wasn't Playtex or Maidenform, but it worked, relieving a lot of back stress and balance difficulties and revealing inevitable irritating chafing under Sam's pair.

Boday worked like she, too, had a demon pushing her, and after she explained they didn't stop her.

"But, darlings, don't you see? This is
revolutionary!
Think of the market for this in large women in Tubikosa alone! Tomorrow Sam and Boday go back into the shopping district again. She needs more stuff anyway. Only she wears
this
and we take these design sketches and patterns. We show these to the wear-at-home bosses and bluff that we have applied for a Royal Patent. If we can find one run by a big-breasted woman we are home free. Even if it is a man, he will buy it-if only to make certain his competitors do not. Strictly cash."

Sam was open-mouthed at that. Finally she asked, "What could we get for it, do you think? Five hundred?"

Boday laughed. "Boday intends to ask for ten thousand and perhaps get argued down to five or six."

"But-these courtesans are only going for a thousand! You mean the idea for a
bra
is worth more than
human beings?"

Boday smiled. "Girls are cheap and in good supply. Original ideas that fit a need are very rare. They will be robbing us blind at the price!"

"Wow!" said Charley. "I wonder what they'd pay for tampons?"

9

The Long Road to Boolean

Ideas turned our to be worth a fair amount at that. Because they insisted on cash or convertibles, they had to take a beating, but they still got more than five thousand sarkis for the bra idea even though it was hard bargaining and Sam for one didn't think anybody was really interested. They got a fair amount of material thrown in, including some nice, stiff, reinforced stuff and heavy-duty threads, and with that Boday, using her strange kind of manual sewing machine and with Charley's help, was able to come up with several pairs that would help Sam.

Sam had never paid a lot of attention to her clothes, even back home, but Charley, it appeared, was something of a would-be designer, although she had to defer in the end to Boday both to make proper patterns and to put them together correctly. The fact was, those super-long glamor nails made much that required manual dexterity not all that practical. That was okay, but it was hard to convince the artist to leave out her own outrageous embellishments.

What they came up with, over a period of a couple of weeks, was an ensemble of clothing not just for Sam but for them as well, since much of what could be gotten off the rack in Tubikosa was pretty dull stuff. The buyer of the bra idea even offered to loan them a couple of seamstresses at low cost and gave them some access to the small sewing sweatshop, an offer they accepted in spite of the fact that they knew the real motive of the generosity was probably to steal designs and ideas for nothing. That was all right with Charley; she thought this place could use a little flair.

They concentrated most on stretch fabrics that would protect but would breathe. The lack of the invention of the zipper hampered them somewhat, but since neither Sam nor Charley, when they thought about it, understood just how a zipper worked well enough to show how to make it, they forgot about it and concentrated on more solid fasteners. With this they were able to make Sam a series of fitted outfits that gave when she did but didn't pinch. Boday's talents were prodigious when doing a fitting; they had the look of one-piece outfits that exactly clung to the contours of the body. That was of little comfort to Sam, whose body definitely didn't need the clingy approach, but it was comfortable, it worked, and, somehow, dressed all in a black or brown outfit, it looked at least reasonable. Charley wasn't satisfied, though, and came up with the idea of a Mexican
serape-
basically a cape-like garment with a hole in the center through which you poked your head. The effect was about as good as you could do with Sam's figure.