Read Online Strangers From the Sky by Margaret Wander Bonanno - Free Book Online Page A

plain brown wrapper Purdi had so discreetly provided, delighting in the feel of it, the heft of it in his hands. There was something vaguely obscene about owning a copy of War and Peace or Bleak House complete and entire on a little plastic disk that could be read to you by a computer.
    Aides and junior officers passed in and out of his office all day, eyeing this audacious anachronism sitting plunk in the middle of Jim Kirk’s desk, utterly mystified. Kirk did not bother to enlighten them, locked the book in a drawer while he locked himself into an endlessness of staff meetings, then smuggled it out of the Admiralty as if it might have been Klingon aphrodisiacs, instead of what it was.
    Alone at last in the penthouse, he still didn’t take it out of the carrycase. The longer he waited, the greater the pleasure when at last he took it out, settled himself by the fire with his feet up, and began turning pages, losing himself in another time, another place. He kept himself in suspense, poured himself a drink, and woke his computer.
    “Computer?”
    “Yes, Jim?” it answered sleepily; it had had the apartment to itself all day.
    Kirk stopped himself from snapping at it for familiarity; he had requested a personality-specific model for home use.
    “Read me tomorrow’s sked, please. One item at a time.”
    “Of course, Admiral,” it said more formally. “Beginning 0800: Quadrant Three commandants’ tie-in briefing.”
    More talk, Kirk thought, complicated by time lags across an entire quadrant.
    “Confirmed. Next?”
    “Approximately 0930: workout with kendo instructor.”
    Kirk groaned; his arm was still sore from last week’s session.
    “Is that a confirm, Admiral?”
    “What? Yes, continue.”
    “Ten hundred to 1200: Visiting Firemen.”
    “Say again?”
    “Only notation you gave me, Admiral,” the computer responded primly. “I took the liberty of tracing the etymology through Linguistics and can report that the term originated on Earth in the then-United States of America circa —”
    “Never mind!” Kirk snapped. Had Spock been tinkering with this thing behind his back? Some sort of Vulcan practical joke?
    Of course, Vulcans did not engage in the employment of jokes, practical or otherwise, Kirk reminded himself. He could almost hear Spock saying it. There didn’t seem to be a profound statement on any subject that Spock hadn’t already uttered. Or was it just his manner that lent whatever he said an aura of profundity?
    “Jim?” the computer intruded gently into his wool-gathering. “Was it something I said?”
    “What? Yes—no! I remember now. Visiting firemen. Means the command staff from Starbase 16 is in town and I have to give them the Cooks’ tour.”
    “Cooks’ tour? Shall I check Linguistics for that also?”
    “On your own time!” Kirk said testily. It was ragging him, Spock’s influence or no. “Continue schedule.”
    “Very well; 1200 to 1400: lunch with Admiral Nogura, his office.”
    Ulcer territory, Kirk thought. Heihachiro only schedules lunch with me when he wants something done yesterday.
    “Next?”
    “Fourteen hundred to 1600: tactics seminar, Blue and Gold groups.”
    Boredom, Kirk thought. How to keep myself awake so I don’t put the cadets to sleep.
    “Confirm.”
    “Sixteen hundred: Kobayashi Maru , Green group—”
    “—and debriefing at 1700? Assuming they haven’t incinerated themselves?”
    “Would you care to do this for me?” the computer demanded, touchy about interruptions.
    “No, continue.” Kirk knocked back half his drink without tasting it, rubbed his eyes. “Sorry if I disrupted your train of thought.”
    “Not possible,” the computer responded, literal-minded. “Seventeen hundred: Kobayashi Maru debriefing, Green group. 1800: Cocktail reception for—”
    “Stop!” Kirk had clearly had enough. There was a cumulative uniformity to his days that was terrifying in its implications. He turned his thoughts toward the one thing he