Leo Frankowski

just got some loose ends to tie up. I’ve got
to quit my job, do something about my apartment and bank accounts, and get the
Lincoln back to the rental agency at the airport.”
    “Then I guess
I’d better follow you into Shoshone.”
    “Shoshone?
But—”
    “They got a bank there, and a rental
agency and what not. You ain’t the first one doing this, ma’am. Seems like I drive four, five people out there and back each
week.”
    “Thanks,
Hank.”
    “My pleasure.
Now as I remember, that’s yours over there.”
    Hank removed the
tarp and shook out great billowing clouds of dust. The car windows were so dirty
that you couldn’t see out of them, but Hank had a bucket and squeegee in his
truck.
    The Lincoln’s engine
fired up without difficulty and in a half hour Hank followed her into the small
desert town. Patricia had to stand in line at the car rental agency and the bank, but armed
with her NBC card, everything went quickly. She was doing what thousands before
her had done,
and the clerks had it down to a pattern. Her apartment phone was
disconnected, her New York landlord satisfied, a trucking company engaged to
move her belongings west. Her bank account was transferred to Sho shone. It was
surprisingly large—for three months, her paychecks had been deposited and she hadn’t
spent a cent
of the money.
    Finally she rented a
motel room for an hour so she could make a very private phone call. Most of her
business had been taken care of in only two hours, but everything in town seemed so
cramped, so tiny, so crowded. She was tempted to take a shower at the motel, but
one look at the tiny shower stall dissuaded her.
    Finally, taking a
deep breath, she called her boss, feeling guilty about not having contacted him in three months.
    “Oh, hello,
Patty. It’s not Friday so it must be Tuesday.”
    “What?”
    “You always call
on Fridays and Tuesdays. The calendar says Thursday so something is finally
happening.”
    “I don’t.know
what you’re talking about, boss.”
    “Patty, are you
feeling all right?”
    “Well, maybe
not. Anyway, well, I’m quitting.”
    “Are you on some
kind of drugs, kid?”
    “No, I’m not on
drugs, dammit! I’m quitting. Dropping out. Going away!”
    “Look, Patty, you
can’t quit…”
    “The hell you
say! I’m a free woman in a free country! I’ll quit if I damn well want to!”
    “What about your
show, Patty? It’s still waiting for you.”
    “Let Mary
handle it.”
    “She has been,
and her ratings aren’t half what yours are.”
    “I told you so.
And I’m still quitting.”
    “Patty, I’m
worried about you. How about if I have some of the people from the Chicago
office drop by to see you?”
    “Chicago?”
    “Well, you’re
still in Wisconsin, aren’t you?”
    “Wisconsin?
Boss, this conversation is just too weird. Look. I’m quitting! Going away! Saying
bye-bye!” She slammed the phone down. The man had to be drunk or stoned or insane or
all three!
    She found Hank in the saloon and drove
with him back to Life Valley. On the way,
she borrowed his jack— knife and cut
her NBC credit card into very fine shavings.
     
    The next day,
Patricia decided she needed to be useful, so she volunteered to help Mona run the
training room
and kennel for the Transportation, Recreation, and Construction units
in one of Pinecroft’s huge subbasements.
    “As you can see,
all the TRACs are variations on the same basic theme,” Mona said.
    “Really?”
Patricia turned her head slowly to take in all the TRACs in the room. Forty huge
animals were frisking around, ranging in size from a one-person speedster, barely larger
than a horse, to things as big as a gravel truck.
    “Oh, there are minor differences in
size and func tion,” Mona said,
“but the basic design is similar. Two eyes in front plus one in the
cockpit. Internal and external ears. Voice membranes inside and out. They all
use the same sort of double-ended
lung structure that permits
continuous breathing. And take a close look at the legs. The jointing on all of them is such that the
body has a smooth motion at any
speed.”
    “They all have
two arms near the doors,” Patricia said, looking for similarities among the
bizarre animals.
    “Yes, and they
can reach any part of their bodies with them,” Mona said. “Let’s give one
a workout. Rolls! Here, boy!”
    A twenty-footer broke
off from playing with something that resembled a flatbed truck and trotted over to
them. It had eight legs, four