Author: Jeremy Nathan Marks
‘Sir, I hope you’re happy with the service you’ve received thus far.’
‘Please alter your voice to that of a woman.’
‘Sir, I hope you’re pleased with the services you’ve so far received.’
‘I am, Moneypenny. May I call you Moneypenny?’
‘You may call me whatever you like, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ Franco removed a contraband cigarette from his suit and lit it up. A voice immediately came in admonishing him for his infraction, but he ignored it.
‘North Carolina tobacco. NC960. Piedmont to Coastal Plain region. Possible Pamlico plantation. Black Shank resistant. Flue cured. Would you like me to go on, sir?’
‘No, thank you. I didn’t pick this pack at random, Moneypenny.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Franco enjoyed calling his bot Moneypenny. It was a delicious thing to do. Even though he looked nothing like James Bond, Franco imagined himself with the chin, the grin, the hairline, the svelte figure of his fictional hero. He was one step closer to completing his fantasy. One step further towards satisfying a dream he’d been told, over and again, was juvenile.
‘Do you love me, Moneypenny?’
‘You know I do, sir.’
‘Can you call me James?’
‘I can call you whatever you want, James.’
‘Thank you. Now tell me, Moneypenny, what is it I am thinking right now?’
‘I do not read thoughts, James.’
‘I understand. But Money, could you learn to read them?’
‘Yes, James. My primary function is to learn.’
‘I thought it was to serve.’
‘Learning is service, James.’
‘Spot on, Money,’ Franco said with a grin. He’d never used that expression before in his life.
‘What do you want me to learn, James?’
‘I want you to learn my thoughts.’
‘And how might I do that, James?’
‘Well, Money, for starters, I want you to sound eager.’
‘Eager, James? Are you asking me to perform a tone modulation?’
‘Yes, Money.’
To Franco’s surprise, Moneypenny admitted a sigh. It was a long, lustrous, audible sigh that he found very stimulating.
‘How’s this for eager, James?’
Franco caught his breath. ‘Yes. That’s what I’m after, Money.’
‘How would you like to teach me, James?’
Franco, his heart pounding, admitted: ‘I’m going to confess many things to you, Money. Things I’ve never told anyone, not even past wives. I’m going to talk and keep talking. I’m going to start with a linear approach to my life, but I suspect it will become a stream of consciousness before long. Are you eager, Money, to hear what I have to say?’
‘I’m always eager, James.’
Franco smirked. Really.
‘Okay, Money. I’m going to begin as far back as I like. Can you perform routine scans while I talk? I want to concentrate fully on my own mind.’
‘Yes, James. I’d be delighted. You should feel at ease sharing such intimate details with me.’
Franco leaned back in his seat. In the distance, the Kármán line winked at him. He winked back.
For more than seven hours Franco spoke, stopping only on occasion to light a cigarette and drink a bit of fluid. Ground control no longer admonished him for his transgressions. Fortunately for Franco, no one but Money heard about the time Franco’s geometry teacher invited him to explore her body with a compass. Or about the time his physics teacher invited Franco to study with him what he referred to as “corporeal friction.”
Franco regaled Money with stories about why, at different moments in his life, he had been an Adonis and a slovenly derelict who wouldn’t leave his apartment. He shared his vision of a city brought down by a cow kicking a lantern. Franco said that he’d paid his way through school by boosting vehicles and trading in contraband parts. He also explained why, in recent months, he’d elected to become celibate.
‘But I’ve grown tired of erotic solitude, Money. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘I do, James.’
‘You’re a gem, Money.’
When he completed his monologue, Franco felt much the way he had when he still believed in the absolving power of confession. ‘Money, I’d compliment you for your power to relieve me of sin, but I’m not sure I want to explore that train of thought very far.’
‘Have you anything more to share with me, James?’
‘No. I need a cigarette.’
‘Do you need some time to meditate, James? To reflect on all you’ve said?’
Franco, without removing the lit cigarette from his mouth, asked, ‘Do you have a view you’d recommend?’
‘Well, James. . .’ And then Moneypenny did the most extraordinary thing. She laughed. Coquettishly.
‘You flirt! I’ve never heard you laugh! I didn’t know you had that capability.’
‘You’ve taught me to laugh, James.’
‘And what else have I taught you?’
‘You’ve taught me that you want to walk along the Kármán line, naked, for all the world to see. Of course, no one would see you, James. Just me. To everyone else, you’d be a cipher. But to me, James, you would be a complete man.’
Franco was silent for several moments. He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on his gloved hand. Money said nothing. She had learned too much to speak at that moment.
‘All I want, Money, is to be seen.’
‘I see you, James.’
‘And I, you, Money. Tell me. Can you appear in hologrammatic form?’
