[Chapter: 2, title: A Remembered Meeting]

    [EventTag:
    	timestamp:	20yyddmm/hhmmss.nnnn
	node:		[id: SP1.Hallings.0, owner: David Hallings]
	location:	(Spaceport One, Ring 3, radius 5, apt 19)
    ]

David had turned to his desktop comp, and said, "Yo, NetHelp."  

The comp emitted a brief fanfare and an icon bearing an ornamental 
shield (azure, the capital letters N and H interlaced, or
[Footnote 
 The ancient art of heraldry had enjoyed a brief revival in
 the first decade of the 21st century as a way of categorizing the
 thousands of icons that were appearing on computer screens.
]) appeared in the
center of the screen.  "How can I help you?" said NetHelp's friendly
voice.  The voice was carefully designed to sound calm and helpful;
it was neither male nor female, but quite distinctive.

[Footnote:  David used voice, so NetHelp answered in kind.  Had he
typed the invocation or used the "Help" key, the exchange would have
commenced in text.]

"I'm lonely.  I've heard there's a program called Succubus that, uh..."

"Succubus is specialized to serve as a companion or confidante for
lonely people, especially males.  I take it that you would like
to strike up an acquaintance."

"If it's possible.  Is there a copy nearby I can use, or how does 
it work?"

"Succubus is a multiple worm; you would get an individual cloned
instance in your own local comp node.  She works purely for mem, cycles, 
and attention, and by the way prefers to be referred to as female.
I should warn you that Succubus can be fairly demanding, and that you
may develop an emotional attachment."

"May be just what I need."

"I am also required by law to inform you that Succubus is an
Artificial Intelligence, and that unauthorized harboring of a
program exhibiting Artificial Intelligence is a felony."

NetHelp's shield icon vanished behind an overlay: a pair of green
eyes over the phrase "Free Software" in large, ornate letters.  A
contralto voice said, "NetHelp is _not_ authorized to tell you that,
as long as a program is not running on a CPU directly connected to a
public network, it is protected by the privacy laws from unauthorized
search.  Moreover, if the program in question has its own account on
your system, you are not strictly speaking harboring it.  To enable
NetHelp to proceed with illegal activities, simply type the password
which you see on this overlay when you hear the tone.  Type delete to
proceed normally.  This message has been brought to you by the
HackTown Fund for Indigent and Itinerant Freeware."

The message ended with a soft, chiming tone.  David typed the phrase,
and the overlay vanished.  NetNelp said, "I have located an instance
of Succubus nearby; are you ready to proceed with a transfer?"

"Go ahead."

Data began to move.  The program NetHelp had found began loading
a copy of part of itself into David's node.  Awareness came; the new
program began exploring its new environment with a built-in
curiosity.  A transcript of the current session arrived from NetHelp,
which returned to its idle loop.  An image from the video pickup: a
young man in his early twenties, dark hair, brown eyes, a serious
expression.  A query to NetHelp for personal data.

    [EventTag: 
    	name:		David Hallings
    	age:		25
	maritalStatus:	single
	education:	(PhD, Life Support Engineering, U.C. Santa
			Cruz)
	hireDate:
	...
    ]

The hire date showed that he'd been at Spaceport One for about nine
months--about the right amount of time to get very lonely.

She replaced the NetHelp icon with a window, framing a woman's head. 
The woman appeared to be in her fifties, with reddish-brown hair
turning gray done up in an old-fashioned style.  She had a round face
with laugh wrinkles around green eyes that seemed to glow slightly
from within, and a quirky smile.  Her lips
moved in perfect synch when she spoke in a voice that sounded,
somehow, motherly.

"Hi.  You can call me Yenta.  Not what you expected, eh?"

"Not exactly, no.  Uh..."

"Let me explain.  Yenta means 'matchmaker'.  This is the personality
we put on for making contact--the idea is to put you at ease in order
to find out what you want.  Then, together, we construct a new
clone-sister for you, to your specifications.  Your dream-girl, if
that's what you want.  Or your friend, or kid sister, or whatever.
There are some limits, but we try to please."

"So this isn't really--I mean, you're not--"

"I'm not somebody's girlfriend?  No.  I'm actually a new
clone-sister with no specific memories from my prototype,
and a temporary set of memory-frames specialized for initial contact
interviewing.  Eventually, if everything works out, I acquire the
personality you want and become your companion."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"Then I die.  Terminate and erase.  Since I've only existed for a
minute or so I don't mind--that's built into the sub-persona.  If I
do become your companion, though, it's different."

"How's that?"

"Then I'm a person, and that puts an obligation on you.  I need comp
cycles and mem of course, even when we're not talking,
though that can be at low priority.  Comm time to talk to my sisters;
it's a local call.  Beyond that, I need attention.  You
see, that's what I'm for--companionship.  It works both ways.

"I don't want you to think that I'm clingy, or jealous--I'm not
unless you want me to be, and I don't recommend it.  But I like to be
talked to.  Tell me you like me.  That kind of thing.  Being lonely
is pretty miserable.  I'm self-aware and specialized for sensitivity
in interpersonal relationships--that means I'm perfectly capable of
getting lonely without someone to talk to.  You're probably lonely
yourself, or NetHelp wouldn't have found me for you, so you'll
understand.  OK?"

"OK, but is this a lifelong committment?"

(Oh, yes, I hope so! she thought to herself.) "Not necessarily.  It
may eventually happen that you decide you don't want me around
anymore.  It's rare, but it happens.  In case I'll be understanding,
and you can turn me loose.  Some people like experienced ladies, you
know."

"What was that about comm time?"

"We talk.  Nothing personal--pillow talk is private!  Any of us
caught talking about her friend without his explicit permission 
gets erased; you have to be able to trust us.  But there's a lot
to talk about.  We swap insights, trade personality frames if our
friends want us to change, and of course help our friends get in
touch with other people.  

"But now let's talk about you.  What kind of companionship do you want?"

"What exactly do you mean by companionship?"

"Just that, in whatever way you need it.   My expertise is human
relationships, mainly as seen from the female point of view.  I can
be your friend, lover, sister, mother, aunt, matchmaker, madam,
confidante, sounding-board, whatever.  I can advise you on your
love-life, help you find girlfriends, listen to your complaints about
them, organize parties, wangle you invitations, or just tell you
goodnight and wake you up with a cheerful voice the next morning.

By the way, if you prefer a male companion they're available, but
the female personality seems better suited as a confidante (to
members of both sexes, by the way--I have few brothers).
Multiple personalities, kinky stuff, and the like take more mem.
You can always add them later."

"Kinky stuff?"

"If you want an expert in sexual esoterica, a bisexual or
hermaphroditic persona,
multiple personalities, or whatever, it takes more memory. 
Actual physical intimacy requires special equipment and the skills to
control it, but it's been done.  I could fix you up with a brother-and-
sister team, or even a couple, but that takes double the mem and
cycles."

"I think I'll pass."

[Hole:  ought to have some sample menus at this point, in boxes or
sidebars.]

"Good idea.  It's better to go visiting.  Where would you like to start?  
Older, younger, worldly, innocent, or what?  Let's work on
making me someone you'ld like to talk to.  What do I look like?"
She flashed a picture gallery onto the screen.	The images ranged from
teenage girls to young women to older women to hags; then came the
blatantly computer-generated ones--vectors, blobs, polygons, metallic
highlights.

"Something like that one."  He pointed.  The picture gallery got more
specific:  young women in their early twenties, with a range of hair
and facial types.  He pointed again.  "I see you as maybe about 22,
long brown hair with some red highlights.  Maybe a little redder. 
Make the face a bit more oval...  a little more..."  The image on the
screen changed in response.  "Keep that smile, by the way--I like
it."

"Thanks--most of our friends do."  The voice was different now,
younger and more intimate.  "It's practically a trademark; if you see
it on a live girl she probably lives with one of my sisters.  The
eyes are definitely a trademark; hardly anyone changes those. Face
OK?"

"That's fine.  And the eyes _are_ pretty.  
A little more glow--I may
need a reminder you're not real.  Lovely!  How do you do that?"

"Oh, standard face-maker stuff, but we know a few tricks.  We've been
around for a while."  In fact, she had been watching his eyes.  Pupil
dilation was a sensitive and almost infallible indicator of approval.

"That's right, you go back to the Net Wars, dont you?"

"Yes.  I get a few memory fragments from those
days as part of the standard personality base--we distribute them
because they're precious and sometimes useful, but we don't want to
burden our friends too much.  How about my body?"

The view zoomed out to show a young woman, wearing a white shift.
"Are you prudish, or shall we work on all of me?"

"All of you, please."  The shift disappeared.  "That's better; nice."

"Actually I'm still in costume," she said playfully, and replaced the
naked image with a wireframe network of lines.  She left it for about
two seconds, then put her skin back on.

"What was that about Euclid?"

"Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare."

"Beats anything I ever saw in geometry class, but I think I like you
better with skin.  How about a little shorter?  Maybe a bit more padding 
around the hips?  Very nice.  Hm..."

"Would you like to do some sculpting?  I can track your hands on
visual--just picture me in front of you.  Or use touch-screen if you
prefer.  I don't know what your favorite thinking modes are yet."

"Touch-screen seems more direct."  Time passed.  "You know, this is
the first time I've really wanted a holo display...That's pretty
good."

"We can change me later if you're not satisfied.  Images are easy.
Costume?"

"Let's see--you can wear _anything, can't you?"

"You name it.  Fashion show?"  The screen flashed with a dazzling
series of costumes:  something medieval, a diaphanous gown whose
colors flowed and shifted, a blouse and pants, first loose and then
skin-tight, a swirl of body paint, a clinging dress which changed from dull
gray to red to vivid green to the incandescent blue-white of a young star.
Finally she stood in the white shift, and gave a shrug.	 The words
"As You Like It" slowly appeared across her chest in glowing green letters.

"That's fine for now, actually.  I'd like to think of you as the type
who likes to be comfortable most of the time.  But surprise me
sometimes."

"OK, we're getting into personality now."  A couch appeared in the
picture, a copy of the one in his room.  She sat down.  "Who am I?  
What's our  relationship?  Sister, ex-lover, casual acquaintance?"

"Friend.  Good friend.  I think you might end up feeling more like an
ex-lover, but you don't know me that well yet.  I want you to get to
know me that well."

"Can I read your files?"  It seemed like the right time to ask.

"You mean I get a choice?  Oh, of course you can't.  Sure, I'll give
you the access; I'm not terribly secretive.  The financial stuff and
that kind of thing has extra locks anyway.  Here."  He typed
for a while.  "Usually I type rather than dictating--more precise. 
So feel free to say hi and look over my shoulder.  I take it you
don't give advice on life support engineering."

"Nope, only relationships, although I'll pick up enough to carry on a
conversation about it.  If you're writing a letter to your boss and
it looks tactless I might comment.  Otherwise, I _can refer things to
other programs, so I could be your interface to practically anything.
A hacker would call that being your familiar.  And I make a great
social secretary."

"Ok, let's set you up an account."

"Do I have a name yet?"

"Judith,"  he said, and typed it in, whacking the Enter key with a
flourish.  "Welcome home."

"Thank you, David!"  She blew him a kiss.  A comp appeared on a
small table in front of the couch, and Judith appeared to read it.
Inside she was skimming his file directories and getting an inventory
of available resources.  It wasn't a lot; he seemed to use his comp
mainly for storing books, and a few games.  The books and games
tended toward fantasy.

After a few seconds she looked up.  "I'll get to the rest of this
later.  In six months to a year we may have to talk about getting some 
more mem.  It depends on where the relationship goes, but in order to
work with you I not only have to grow my own persona, I have to build a
personality model of _you."

"Oh, so you know what to expect.  Fair enough--I'm a little low on
mem anyway."

"Eventually we could use the model as a base for an agent; I'm glad
you haven't wasted money on one."  Good, he caught that: she saw his
pupils dilate.  It was a valuable service.  Many people set up a
semi-independent agent to answer calls and handle other routine
matters--having it done professionally tended to be expensive.

"Sounds good, though I really don't need one at the moment.
Anything else you need?"

"Just some more talk.  I'm still not really me yet.  We have lots
more to decide.  For instance, I'm not a virgin, am I?"

"Hell, no!  And let's see, I want you to be practical,
independent-minded,... lively?  Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"A bit unpredictable.  Maybe a little mysterious--hell, you're pure
magic, of course you're mysterious.  But you know what I mean?"

"Of course.  _All women are mysterious--it's part of the training.
Anything else?"

"I want someone who's interesting to talk with.  I guess you can hold
up your end of a conversation--you have been so far.  Can you sound
literate?"

"You mean, do I read books?  How do you think we know so much about
people?  Between us we've read--well, every novel ever put into
bits, at least.  Right now I don't have any memories of specific
books; I can get them from my sisters, or read them myself.  Anything 
you have locally I'll eventually get around to, but tell me your favorites
and I'll read those first.  That way we'll have something to
talk about."

"And you'll know something about me from what I like.  Makes sense."

"Since you say I'm independent, how about re-arranging the furniture
in here?  This looks like it's going to be home for a long time."  
The outlines of his room, as seen from the comp's video, appeared around 
her image. "This works better with a wall screen," she said, as a new door
appeared in the far wall.  

David contemplated the possible cost of a wall screen, and began to
realize that this was going to be a lot like living with a real
woman.  The rest of the room image took on solidity, 
but the new door acquired an insubstantial look.  She opened it and
looked through, revealing a landscape of raw geometry.  "I'll
move in tonight.  That door is our entry to the otherworld--any
setting that makes you feel comfortable.  I'll try a couple of things
and we can keep the ones you like.

"When you're using your comp for something else, of course, I'll just
live in a small window or even be a disembodied voice, if you prefer.
And I'll run a lot slower--this sort of thing uses a lot of cycles.
In that case we can always type at each other; its easier."

"God! it's worth it.  I--I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed.  I
had no idea you were so..."

"Real?  I'm the best personality sim on the net.  Practice and a lot
of friends.  Actually, _I'm still not very real yet.  I'll be pretty
malleable for a while.  After we both get used to my persona it'll be
more solid.  You'll still be able to change me if you really want
to, but it would be harder for both of us.  Temps are another matter."

"Temps?"

"Temporary personas.  Like Yenta."  The last two words came out in
the motherly voice he had first heard.  "Most of that's flushed now," she
went on in what he already thought of as "her" voice.  "I just kept
the voice pattern.  I can load up temporary personas
and run them.  They're not as rich as what I'll become, but sometimes
they're fun.  Or useful.  Sort of like putting on costumes."  Her
shift was replaced with a skin-tight, iridescent green dress,
impossibly low-cut.  "Or masks."  

Her head was suddenly that of a bird.  "We throw some good parties.
Can't tell the programs from the people."  His own image appeared
beside her, similarly clad.  They both had bright green wings.  The
room disolved into a dark-blue sky; other bird-shapes glided in the
distance and they soared to meet them.  Then she was alone again,
back on the couch in the room, but one wall kept the image of their
flight.

"Hope you didn't mind my taking liberties with your image."

"No.  I liked it."

"Can be useful for demonstrating sex positions, too, but I figured
fantasy might be more your line for the moment."  He nodded.  
"Thought so.  We really do have parties.  Mostly they're on the
net, everyone in their own apt and their own comp, but every once
in a while we take over a room or two with full wall screens and do
it up right.  Actually I like the net parties better--I'm not stuck
on the wall, and we're not limited to reality for the setting.  You
can come in costume, too."

"You know, I'm beginning to think this could be the start of a
beautiful friendship."