The Bitch From Hell by Feath MacKirin She held the cup as if it was a weapon, and in her hands it was. She threw it at me; I tried ducking but it came at me like a heat seeking missile. It hit me in the chest then bounced back onto the rubberized flooring. "Now, boss, there's no need for --" "Don't you even say it, you slimy worm! I hired you to create a masterpiece , not this -- this --" unaccountably, words failed her, and she kicked at the innocent cup in frustration. She looked at me like I was not only what she had called me, but the kind that lived under rocks and only came out for nightmares. That stung! "What do you expect with the tools you gave me?" I couldn't keep the whine out of my voice, and I could feel my back hunching up defensibly. "Paste stones and recycled glass? I am Michelangelo, and you gave me crayons ! I need Vega Crystal! Holo Bluestones! Betelgeuse green metals!" "You're right, of course." Her sudden switch in mood had me gasping like a virgin in a whore house, as usual. "I should have realized… contractors who use inferior components will produce an inferior product. Even a Michelangelo such as yourself needs something to work with." I felt my back straighten under the complement, and I nodded agreement. But I still watcher her warily as she sat behind her desk and pulled open a drawer. I expected her to pull out a blaster and end the argument in her usual way, but she surprised me. She tossed a plastic card onto the leather desk top. "A credit chit. Unlimited. Buy what you need," she leaned forward, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "but do not fail me again." Smiling ingratingly, I snagged the chit and backed away. "No troubles, Cassy, I'll have it to you --" I revised my first estimate and double it for safety. " -- in two months. Good?" She took out her diary and circled the date indicated. Then she closed the book with a tiny 'snap', looking up at me like a starving piranha. "Don't be late." She said unnecessarily. # I had a full day before the end of my two month deadline, when I opened the Kleen-Klen door. Fearfully, I reached in with my mitt, and pulled out the last attempt at the Bitch From Hell, as I lovingly called her. Would she shatter in my hand again? Would the Betelgeuse green metal base turn copper from the heat, instead of onyx? Would the gems cloud up? Holding my breath and praying with warm sincerity, I pulled the bitch from the oven. She didn't shatter in my hand, and I carefully placed her on a small, marble pedestal. Without taking my eyes off her, I dropped the mitt on the floor and walked slowly around her, inspecting her in minute detail. Paper thin crystal, in a helix cut, sparkled cheerfully under the spot light; its large bulb cup perfectly round, and filling itself in refractioned pastel colours. The Bluestones around the lip shimmered with velvet warmth, their depth and clarity like tiny galaxies. The green metal ran up the narrow stem in delicate dance of wispy mist, to solidify at the base in a honeycombed lace. The Bitch From Hell was perfect. Hands shaking, I put her in a foam padded case, and hand cuffed it to my wrist. I then lifted the speaker, and called my neighbour, Brainless Bill. Brainless had an accident a few years ago, and had needed a brain and trunk transplant. They used the old technology -- Bill was a Public Charity case -- and he ended up with the old Bain-Hess Robotic Brain/trunk Version 1.0. No one had seen much of a difference in Bill, except now he made an excellent income as a part time human shield. Brainless agreed to accompany me over to Cassy's for a small fee, which I cheerfully used Cassy's credit chit for. The trip was effortless -- Brainless' reputation proceeded us -- and I once again entered Cassy's office, Brainless standing guard at the door. She was impatient, I could tell, but she let me take my time unloading the cup and placing it on her desk. Hands behind her back, she studied it from ever angle, and I held my breath, thinking which way would be a good way to dodge. Finally she turned to me and smiled. I felt warmth returning to my fingers and toes, as I took my first breath on entering the room. "She's spectacular. She's perfect. She is just what I needed." She moved around the desk and pulled out another credit chit. I gave her the old one, and she handed over the new one. I checked the total on its tiny display and nodded satisfaction. 2.6 billion credit, plus .1 percent bonus for getting in 1 day early. I left happily, thinking about villas on the Sea of Galilee, on Luna. # I was never sure what the humour was of being Brainless Bills' handy man. Yet, whenever I came by in my Bain-Hess Eco-Skeleton, with robotic arms, most humans (and others) started snickering. I was watching the news feeds when Brainless Bill suddenly spoke up. "You know her, Handless. We were in her office once." I looked at the woman on the feed, who looked very regal as she accepted the Throne of Twoman's. "I don't remember. Was it before my accident?" "I think so. I think it was the same day." We watched her as she placed the sacred Crystal Chalice in the Monastery vault. The news feed explained how she had gone on the quest, risking life and soul, in finding and rescuing the Crystal Chalice from The Hive. Her reward was the usual story book reward: half the kingdom. In this case, the planet Twoman. "Pretty lady," I commented. "Yeah. If you like them predatory. Come on, Handless. Time for bed." "Okay, Bill."