Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc Read Online Free PDF

ceiling. Both womens’ eyes were fixed on the hovering pistol until I spoke again.
    "Krista,” I said, “We're here to see about a CW passport. That's all. Can you give us a few minutes to tell you why she needs one?"
    "You said she was only two. She doesn't look like a child to me. How did you take that gun away from Marlene?"
    "Never mind the gun. Stephie could look like an infant if I asked her to. Or if she wanted to. She could also look like a little old lady, but this is her preferred appearance. This is her chosen self. Can we talk now?"
    "I ... I don't know. Why do you ... Why does she need ... Our services? What is she?"
    I sighed and lowered the gun to the secretary, who stared at it briefly before taking it and rather fumblingly pointing it at us again. I turned to face Krista.
    "Stephie's just a person who needs some ID to open a bank account and become something other than my legal slave, okay? Unless you're in favor of slavery, you'll hear us out. It's that simple."
    She laughed. “ Slavery? Just where might you be residing these days? In East Africa? The Sudan? How can she be a slave? She's not even human!"
    "Try West Florida, ma'am, and what we have here is a thinking, reasoning mind that happens not to inhabit a normal human body. In fact, she has to wear a vehicle license plate on her butt ‘cause she's residing in a flitter. I don't know that having a passport will change that particular aspect of things, but she needs some credentials to open a bank account and function independently in the world."
    With a small, nervous giggle, Krista asked, “She's a flitter? Are you having me on?"
    "No, I'm not, and this is becoming tiresome. All that you ever knew about me is that I was once on the same side of a conflict as your dad. I managed to get him to a hospital when he was hit and later I brought him home to Coventry when he was able to leave the hospital. That should be worth a few moments of your time, if nothing else. If it isn't, just say so and we'll get the hell out of your office right now."
    The secretary stood stiffly straight and almost stepped forward, but halted her motion when I looked in her direction. Her voice was icy and tense as she spoke.
    "We have damned good reasons for being cautious, Yank. There are plenty of people who really don't appreciate what we do because it interferes with their mistreatment and imprisonment of those who disagree with them or resist them."
    "Marlene,” said Krista, “He knows what we do and why. That's supposedly why he's brought his ... friend ... to us."
    Where Marlene's tone had been the stiffly formal tones of someone challenged, Krista's quiet, commanding tone was laced with iron. She stepped forward and indicated that we should enter her office.
    "Hold my calls, please, Marlene. I'll leave my door slightly open during our conference."
    "Yes, ma'am,” said Marlene, putting the gun down to pick up the phone. “Should I notify your father?"
    Krista seemed to consider that for a moment, then coolly said, “Yes. Certainly. Tell him that"—she referred to the picture on her wall—"Sergeant Howdershelt is here. Nothing else. I want to see how well he receives this event."
    Once Steph and I had been seated by Krista's desk, she sat down in the chair behind the desk and said, “Rest assured that I run this office empirically, not according to old debts or favors. You will now tell me precisely why this woman—that is, your flitter—needs one of our passports."
    Ten minutes later I had outlined Steph's evolution to sentience and her situation in general. Krista's expression still contained a trace of skepticism, but she reached in her desk drawer and laid a small sheaf of papers on her desk in front of Stephanie.
    "These forms will require various information and your signature. Can you hold a pen, or would you have to use some other means of creating a signature?"
    Stephanie matched her gaze and quietly said, “I'm perfectly capable of operating an