Scifi Motherlode Read online

  To say I was disappointed when Lynda steered her hovercart away from the cookie and snack cake aisle would be a tremendous understatement.

  There I sat, looking fabulous, dreaming of the love of lips and teeth and tongue I craved above all else...and Lynda didn’t even come down my aisle. Via Store’s buyspy, I watched as she pushed on by, pausing at an endcap display to listen to cereal boxes calling out to her before she turned down the next aisle and kept going.

  For an instant, I panicked, fearing I had missed my chance at meeting the woman of my dreams. My baked-in mind (consisting of a matrix of precision-engineered and digestible protein molecules) was thrown into a state of confusion.

  Then, I pulled myself together and pinged Store, determined not to give up so easily. From the memory my makers had given me, I knew that the path to true love is not always smooth, and that anything worth having is worth working for.

  Though Store was skeptical, already having shunted processing power away from the quadrants Lynda had passed through or missed, he agreed to give me a chance with some guided couponing. According to Lynda’s past activity in this and other shopping facilities, she might respond favorably to a strategically placed offer.

  When she was midway up the next aisle, Store flashed a message on the organic LED screen implanted in the palm of her hand: "Save one credit on Sea Sprite plankton snacks in Aisle 5!"

  I thought it was the perfect bait, since Sea Sprite plankton snacks were among the items Lynda had been buying most often since starting her diet three weeks ago. Though Sea Sprite products usually were displayed in Aisle 8, Store had already diverted a batch of them via the underfloor realignment system to a niche on a shelf right across from me in Aisle 5.

  Thanking Store for his help, I focused on buyspy, nervously watching as Lynda stared at her palm screen. She read the text message from Store, then looked away, distracted by the cries of products on the shelves around her.

  But then, thankfully, she looked back. From twenty different spycam angles, I watched as she raised her eyebrows and nodded...then directed her hovercart to head for the end of the aisle and turn left.

  Toward my aisle. Finally, she was coming closer. We were about to meet.

  Joyfully, I added a final touch to spruce myself up for her: in the looping thread of white icing on my fudge-frosted face, I wrote her first name in neat, cursive lettering.

  I personalized myself so there could be no doubt whatsoever that we were truly meant for each other.

  *****

  Snack cakes like me have a supercreamy center, not a heart...but if I had had a heart that day, it would have been pounding like crazy as Lynda moved down my aisle. My baked-in mind was focused entirely on one thought alone: I LOVED HER. Every atom of my being was consumed with a single imperative desire: that LYNDA would BUY me and DEVOUR ME.

  I LONGED for her credit chip to transfer funds into the accounts of my manufacturer. I YEARNED to feel her pudgy fingers TEAR OFF my wrapper and close around me, THRUSTING me toward the sweetest fate that I could ever DREAM of, the ECSTASY and INTIMACY that occurs when TWO become ONE.

  If only if only if only she would have me she would TAKE me.

  She drew closer.

  On both sides of the aisle, cookies and snack cakes cried out to her, a hundred different suitors trying to intercept her with songs and lies and promises. Twice, packages leaped off the shelves into her hovercart, but she spotted them and stuffed them back in their displays. A bag of Stimchoc Thrillchip Omegawafers used a stealthier tactic, sliding off a rack and clinging to her sweatpants with a light static charge...but she caught that one, too, and peeled it right off.

  Then, having made it through the gauntlet, she pulled up right in front of me. Her broad backside was turned to me, as she was looking at the Sea Sprite display across the aisle...but finally finally finally she was THERE she was CLOSE TO ME.

  I had a chance. It would be tricky, overcoming her willpower, getting her to TAKE ME in spite of her diet after she had passed so many others by, but I KNEW it could be done. I KNEW I was special and had the power and desire to win her over.

  I knew that true love would win out.

  *****

  I began my approach gently, knowing that she had been burned before. Noise and aggressiveness would not work with her; what she needed was kindness and understanding.

  Activating my sound chip (protein-based and digestible like my mind), I cast a beam of hypersound in her direction, a focused signal meant for her ears only.

  Though I was bursting with eager excitement, I kept my voice soft and controlled for her. From mining her records on Shopnet, I knew she had responded best in past shopping events to a steady male voice of moderate depth, and I shaped my voice accordingly.

  "Hello," I said to her, secretly thrilled to be speaking at last into the beautiful shell of her ear...the ear that was so gloriously CLOSE to her wet, red LIPS. "Hello, Lynda."

  Lynda looked around, searching for the source of the voice, a voice so unlike the shrill, artless cries of the other products around her.

  "Over here," I said, using the luminescent molecules in my frosting to make myself glow softly. "My name is Smidgen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lynda."

  The moment she laid eyes on me, I exulted. There it was, as plain as the label on my wrapper, laid out in bright relief before the optical cells baked into my body: a longing for me just as strong and perfect as mine for her.

  Still, I could see that she would not give her love easily. As quickly as the passion flared on her face, it was gone, slammed away behind a cold, bleak wall of denial. Her desire to resist temptation had come between us, threatening to prevent the happiness we deserved.

  Fortunately for us both, this resistance only made me more determined to bring us together.

  "Don’t bother me," said Lynda, staring at me with a look of disgust that I knew barely concealed her true attraction. "I’m on a diet."

  "I hope you won’t mind my saying so, Lynda," I said softly, "but you certainly don’t look like you need to be dieting."

  "What do you know?" Lynda said sharply. "You’re just a snack cake."

  "Actually," I said, "I’m a Supercreamy Double Ultrachocolate Deluxe Smidgen. I have a level seven digestible artificial intelligence, free will enabled, and I can tell you that in my opinion, you don’t need to be on a diet."

  Briefly, a look of appreciation flashed in her eyes...then was gone, replaced by cynical rejection. "Nice try," she said coldly. "You’d say anything to get me to buy you."

  "I understand why you might think that," I said, "but I’m not like other snack foods. My compliment was sincere, Lynda."

  "If you don’t think I’m fat," she said sarcastically, "then you’re dumber than any snack food I’ve ever met."

  With that, she turned away, back to the Sea Sprite display. I worried that I had lost her then, that our love was not to be...but she took just enough time picking out her packet of plankton snacks that I thought I might still have a chance. She wasn’t rushing off; though she seemed unmoved on the surface, a conflict was raging inside between her need to lose weight and her need for me.

  Her need for pleasure.

  Quickly, I gathered my resources for another attempt at breaking through her defenses. While her back was turned, I freshened the color of my frosting and cake, brightened my glow, pumped up my ultrachocolatey aroma, and got Store to nudge my display shelf just one more inch out into the aisle.

  Then, just as she was dropping a Sea Sprite packet into her hovercart and preparing to waddle off down the aisle, I spoke. The steady, smooth flow of my voice perfectly concealed the desperation and LUST that ruled my mind.

  "I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Lynda," I said. "It was never my intention to do so."

  Lynda looked my way again, her expression softening just the slightest bit. "Well, that’s a first," she said. "I’ve never had a product apologize to me before."

  "And I’ve never met a woman
quite like you before," I said warmly. "I know you’re on a diet, but I’d still like to get to know you better."

  Lynda flashed a glance up and down the aisle, as if making sure no one was watching as she had a conversation with a snack cake. Thanks to some skillful shopper redirection by Store, we were alone for the moment.

  "Listen," said Lynda, lowering her voice though no one else was around. "Believe it or not, I appreciate the compliment. I guess that shows how pathetic I am."

  "Not at all," I said, meaning every word of it. To me, she was anything but pathetic; to me, she was the most attractive and fascinating woman in the world.

  "But there’s no way you’re going home with me," said Lynda. "We both know what would happen if you did."

  "Not necessarily," I said. "Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to happen."

  "Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?" said Lynda. "I want something to happen. I’ve done without for three weeks, and I want you so bad, I’m ready to explode."

  My mind was spinning as I heard her confess her desire for me. It took a major effort for me to concentrate on the delicate process of winning her. "You know, Lynda," I said softly. "I think I can help."

  "Oh, really?" Lynda said with a smirk. "And how exactly will you do that?"

  "What if I promised not to let you take more than a bite of me a day?" I said. "Just a few centimeters. Just a nibble, and then I cut you off. You’ll have a treat to help you get through the day, but you won’t fall off the wagon with your diet."

  "And how will you cut me off at just a nibble?" Lynda said suspiciously.

  "I’ll tell you to stop," I said. "I’ll scream, if that’s what it takes."

  Lynda grinned and shook her head. "Even screaming won’t keep me from eating something once I’ve put my mind to it," she said. "Trust me on this."

  "I still say the two of us can make it work," I said. "You don’t have to fight this battle alone."

  "Listen," said Lynda. "You’re a snack cake. I’m a fat woman. It would never work out."

  "Just give me a chance," I said, boosting the ultrachocolatey scent I was emitting. "You might be missing out on something wonderful."

  Lynda’s eyes flared with a harsh glint. "You don’t understand," she said stiffly. "I’ve been hurt too many times. I can’t get involved with someone like you, not again."

  "It doesn’t have to be like that," I said. "I won’t lie to you and say I wasn’t hoping for something more, but I’d be honored just to be your friend."

  For a moment, Lynda stared at me, biting her lower lip. "TAKE ME," I wanted to shout at her. "I LOVE YOU! I NEED YOU! TAKE ME NOW!"

  But I waited silently. I knew she was so fragile that one wrong word – let alone a desperate plea – might be enough to drive her away. I had done all that I could and now would have to accept the consequences, whatever they might be.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that my hopes were doomed to be crushed.

  "I’m sorry," Lynda said finally. "I just can’t. You’ll find someone else."

  "No one like you," I said sadly as she turned away. "Promise me you’ll at least think it over."

  "No, thanks," she said, moving down the aisle with her hovercart. "Goodbye."

  I said nothing in return. Lynda had become so important to me, I could not bear to say goodbye to her, knowing the two of us would likely never meet again.

  Despondent beyond belief, I sat there, letting my glow and fragrance fade away. My first love, the love of my life, the woman of my dreams, had rejected me. My dreams of passionately merging with her, of feeling those crimson lips close around me and those ivory teeth BITE into me, had been forever denied.

  No snack cake, I was certain, had ever been so lonely and forlorn as I.

  At least for a moment.

  As Store eased my display back out of the aisle, my mind smoothly switched tracks, shunting from the loss of Lynda to consideration of another target. Lynda had been right after all; being who I am, I knew I would find someone else, and I knew I would give myself just as completely to that new love.

  Imagine how surprised I was then when a miracle happened.

  Just as I was about to realign the thread of white icing on my face to erase Lynda’s name, Store shot a flash-feed visual from buyspy into my video buffer. Even as the image burst into me, I could not believe what I was seeing.

  It was Lynda, marching swiftly up my aisle, the hovercart sweeping along behind her.

  Before I could fully process what was happening, she snatched me from the shelf, my wrapper crinkling in her beautiful, thick fingers. The next thing I knew, she was dropping me into the hovercart on top of a tub of tofu and a sack of grapefruit.

  Abandoning my thoughts of finding someone else, I reactivated my bond with Lynda and exulted in the certain knowledge that our love indeed was meant to be. She had come back for me; there could be no greater proof of her devotion.

  As I rode along in her hovercart, I knew what lay ahead...and it would be glorious. She might resist me for a while, hiding me in a cupboard or drawer, telling herself she would stick to her diet, pushing me away.

  But in the end, she would surrender. It was written in the stars.

  In the end, she would not be able to help herself. She would come to me, ready and willing, wanting me to do what only I could do for her.

  And I would do it. Gladly, I would give myself to her.

  "Thank you for coming back for me," I said as she placed a jar of wheat germ in the cart. "You won’t be sorry."

  "I already am," she said, not looking at me. "I hate myself for this. I hate you, too."

  Her words, sharp as they were, did not faze me. I knew what she really meant.

  *****

  It is impossible for me to describe the state of ecstatic anticipation that engulfed me as I waited for Lynda to have her first taste of me.

  That night, as she fixed and ate a salad, I watched from the kitchen counter in her tiny apartment and wished that she were putting ME in her mouth instead of the lettuce. Each time her plump, ruby lips parted, admitting another green forkful, I quivered with excitement in my wrapper, barely able to hold back from crying out for immediate consummation.

  It only intensified my arousal that she had not hidden me away as I had expected, but instead had put me right out on the counter. Instead of whiling away the time in a dark cupboard, having to content myself with listening for her voice and movements, I was out in the open, able to see everything, able to be seen...and knowing that she would not have positioned me thus if she did not intend to devour me sooner rather than later.

  And yet, I still had to go easy on her. Bruised and vulnerable, she responded well to patience and tenderness; it would be a mistake to exert any but the mildest pressure.

  She was a skittish fawn in need of gentle coaxing. Never mind that I was more like a RAGING INFERNO in need of immediate QUENCHING.

  As she carried her dirty dishes from the kitchen table to the sink, I caught her eye. Her gaze lingered just long enough to test my resolve to play it cool...but I managed with a mighty effort to keep from blurting out an insistent plea for love.

  "How was your dinner?" I said instead.

  Lynda snorted as she dropped her plate and silverware into the dishpan. "I’m sick of salad," she said disgustedly. "And tofu and yogurt and water and plankton snacks."

  "But you should be proud of yourself," I said. "You’ve set a goal, and you’re sticking to it, even though it isn’t easy."

  Lynda sighed. "I’ve really made up my mind this time," she said, filling the dishpan with water from the spigot. "I decided that this is it. Once and for all, I have to get my weight down."

  "I believe in you, Lynda," I said. "I know you can do it."

  "I wish I felt so confident," said Lynda, adding soap to the dishwater. "It’s just I’ve failed so many times before. I’ve been on lots of diets, and I’ve always ended up quitting."

  "That doesn’t mean you won’t succeed this time
," I said. "Forget the past. Look at this as a new beginning."

  Lynda scrubbed a plate clean and slotted it in the dish drainer alongside the sink. "I want to," she said slowly. "I’m tired of being miserable. I’m sick of being alone."

  "Surely you must have people who care about you," I said, enhancing my glow and aroma as I sensed her defenses weaken.

  Lynda cleaned her silverware and placed it in the drainer, then headed for the table to get her water glass. "My parents are gone," she said sadly, giving me a look on her way back to the sink. "No brothers or sisters. I have a few friends here and there, but that’s about it."

  "I understand," I said. "You want to be in love."

  Lynda stopped cleaning the glass and looked over her shoulder at me. "Geez," she said. "I must be pretty transparent if even a snack cake can figure me out."

  "Or maybe I’m just a really smart snack cake," I said. "Smart enough to see how much you have to offer, at least."

  Lynda turned back to the sink and finished washing the glass. "If you’re so smart," she said, "give me a good reason why I shouldn’t say to hell with my diet and just eat you right now."

  FINALLY, I thought. FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY she was READY to PEEL off my wrapper and PULL me INSIDE that magnificent MOUTH all WET and WARM and SOFT and CHEW AND CHEW AND CHEW ME until we two were inextricably mixed together.

  Automatically, I brightened my glow and moistened my cake and heightened the shine of my frosting. The moment I had waited for was finally upon me, and my every dream and desire was about to be fulfilled and I KNEW it would be more wonderful than I had ever imagined.

  And yet, even as every atom of my being vibrated with the thrill of impending gratification, I forced myself not to cry out in delirious passion. Remembering her shy and fragile condition, I reigned myself in, choosing a more subtle approach that I calculated would be more likely not to frighten her off.

  "Well," I said, trying my best to sound like a supportive friend. "I guess the main reason would be that you want to stick to your diet."

  "Right about now," she said, drying her hands on a dish towel as she turned to face me, "I don’t much care about my diet."