arrive—and shall I call the factory again. Watch.”
He leaned closer while she touched the red into amber. She smiled (and he recalled how many ventriloquists maintain a smile the whole time the dummy is talking) and he was aware of the slightest possible murmur of her voice, the barest motion of her lips. Even forewarned, however, he could not distinguish the words. When she had finished he said, meaning it, “That’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life.” You also smell wonderful, he added, but not aloud.
“It isn’t hard to learn,” she said deprecatingly. “I don’t suppose it’s necessary, either, but you can see how nice it is in an open office like this—no bells and ’scuse-me’s and plugs and wires. And it’s the best possible demonstration of our new VIP. That’s V.I.P.—Voice InPut system.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the VIP System, the new M&H Computer Central. We centralize all the office functions—well, almost all—into one computer, but it’s very special. We have access to it by voice. Some day,” she went on with heart-stopping enthusiasm (oh, my, thought Merrihew, it’s so easy to listen to this lady without hearing a thing: she is her own diversion, bless her), “we hope to be able to perfect a VIPsystem with access points all over an office. At this stage it’s geared to operate through one person.”
“You.”
“And two others, with another girl in training,” she went on. (The entire time she talked, the board glowed and flashed, her fingers moved, hovered, touched and rested.) “Look.” She touched a point in the wall (or whatever it was) at the base of the console, and a drawer slid out. Inside were four small compartments. One was empty. Each of the others held two of the jeweled ear-sets and one such ornament as the one she wore on her throat. She took out one of these.
“Beautiful,” said Merrihew, meaning whatever he meant.
She held up the throat device, meaning that. “There’s no reason it shouldn’t be. And it really is, inside and out. Really, some of the microcircuits in this thing are as beautiful as anything a jeweler ever turned out. I’ll give you some literature on them before you go, if you like.”
She paused, for the holoscreen lit up. Merrihew could see it now. It was nothing but a film of frosted plastic, perhaps sixteen by twenty inches and a very few sixteenths of an inch thick. At first blush one thought of rear projection, but it was far more than that. It was like looking into a clear cube of glass in which was not the picture of a girl’s face, but the girl’s face itself. The pleasant blond apparition asked, “Aggie, is Mr. Merrihew still there?”
“That’s Mr. Merrihew, looking over my shoulder.”
“Oh,” said the image, looking straight into his eyes, “Hello! I’m Miss Addamski, Mr. Handel’s secretary. I’m so sorry to keep you like this. Truly, Mr. Handel will get to you just as soon as he can.”
“That’s all right,” said Merrihew. “I’m in good hands, as you can plainly see.” Miss Addamski smiled and faded away while Miss Kuhli (magnificent woman, he thought) managed to laugh at what he had said without giggling.
“Beautiful holograph.”
“Would you believe Mr. Miroshi’s not pleased with it yet? He still thinks a lot more can be done with the color rendition.”
“It’s so much better than the passionate pinks and sick greens I’ve been used to.”
“Oh, thank you. Now, where were we?”
“At the jeweler’s, I think.”
“Oh, yes.” She held up the throat device she had taken from the drawer. “You’ll notice that all of them are twelve-sided, with a hole in the center. This is what makes it so quick and easy to learn. You think of a clock, you see. You pretend you have a clock, or watch on your throat. Now it’s easy to locate which of the twelve sides is which number—two o’clock, seven o’clock, and so on. You can use it to dial a telephone
He leaned closer while she touched the red into amber. She smiled (and he recalled how many ventriloquists maintain a smile the whole time the dummy is talking) and he was aware of the slightest possible murmur of her voice, the barest motion of her lips. Even forewarned, however, he could not distinguish the words. When she had finished he said, meaning it, “That’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life.” You also smell wonderful, he added, but not aloud.
“It isn’t hard to learn,” she said deprecatingly. “I don’t suppose it’s necessary, either, but you can see how nice it is in an open office like this—no bells and ’scuse-me’s and plugs and wires. And it’s the best possible demonstration of our new VIP. That’s V.I.P.—Voice InPut system.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, the VIP System, the new M&H Computer Central. We centralize all the office functions—well, almost all—into one computer, but it’s very special. We have access to it by voice. Some day,” she went on with heart-stopping enthusiasm (oh, my, thought Merrihew, it’s so easy to listen to this lady without hearing a thing: she is her own diversion, bless her), “we hope to be able to perfect a VIPsystem with access points all over an office. At this stage it’s geared to operate through one person.”
“You.”
“And two others, with another girl in training,” she went on. (The entire time she talked, the board glowed and flashed, her fingers moved, hovered, touched and rested.) “Look.” She touched a point in the wall (or whatever it was) at the base of the console, and a drawer slid out. Inside were four small compartments. One was empty. Each of the others held two of the jeweled ear-sets and one such ornament as the one she wore on her throat. She took out one of these.
“Beautiful,” said Merrihew, meaning whatever he meant.
She held up the throat device, meaning that. “There’s no reason it shouldn’t be. And it really is, inside and out. Really, some of the microcircuits in this thing are as beautiful as anything a jeweler ever turned out. I’ll give you some literature on them before you go, if you like.”
She paused, for the holoscreen lit up. Merrihew could see it now. It was nothing but a film of frosted plastic, perhaps sixteen by twenty inches and a very few sixteenths of an inch thick. At first blush one thought of rear projection, but it was far more than that. It was like looking into a clear cube of glass in which was not the picture of a girl’s face, but the girl’s face itself. The pleasant blond apparition asked, “Aggie, is Mr. Merrihew still there?”
“That’s Mr. Merrihew, looking over my shoulder.”
“Oh,” said the image, looking straight into his eyes, “Hello! I’m Miss Addamski, Mr. Handel’s secretary. I’m so sorry to keep you like this. Truly, Mr. Handel will get to you just as soon as he can.”
“That’s all right,” said Merrihew. “I’m in good hands, as you can plainly see.” Miss Addamski smiled and faded away while Miss Kuhli (magnificent woman, he thought) managed to laugh at what he had said without giggling.
“Beautiful holograph.”
“Would you believe Mr. Miroshi’s not pleased with it yet? He still thinks a lot more can be done with the color rendition.”
“It’s so much better than the passionate pinks and sick greens I’ve been used to.”
“Oh, thank you. Now, where were we?”
“At the jeweler’s, I think.”
“Oh, yes.” She held up the throat device she had taken from the drawer. “You’ll notice that all of them are twelve-sided, with a hole in the center. This is what makes it so quick and easy to learn. You think of a clock, you see. You pretend you have a clock, or watch on your throat. Now it’s easy to locate which of the twelve sides is which number—two o’clock, seven o’clock, and so on. You can use it to dial a telephone
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