Sathya Downloads Bennie

by Hungry Guy

conclusion

“Frightened, I guess. I just miss my old life a little. And what if you decide to turn me back into raw elements? You won’t do that, will you?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s too soon to know...”

Bennie shuddered in her arms.

“But the original you is still somewhere in America, I would guess,” she whispered. “So it shouldn’t matter to you about that.”

It matters to me! Bennie thought, though he remained silent. He sighed and recalled that the reason he planned to upload himself was to download a tallish, wholesome-looking girl. He hoped that his original had downloaded her and was happy with her.

Bennie lay alone in bed in the spare room again that night. If it were he who had downloaded a girl, they surely would not be sleeping in separate beds. Still, he began to cry silently; he knew that he was her personal property and she had the legal right to turn his body back to its constituent atoms if she wasn’t pleased with him. He wasn’t about to get aggressive with her.

He sighed and pulled the blankets to his chin. For a fancy new building, it had an old style ammonia-based central air conditioning system that tended to keep the building too chilly.

Bennie couldn’t sleep. Back home on nights like that, he would go get a snack. He headed stealthily into the kitchen in search of something to eat that wouldn’t set his mouth aflame.

While rooting through the cabinet, Sathya came into the kitchen. “Is something wrong?”

“No, just looking for a midnight snack. Do you have any soda? Ginger Ale or 7-Up?”

She reached into the refrigerator and poured a little Limca into a steel cup. Then she opened a small plastic tub and placed some curly objects into a steel bowl.

“What are these?”

“These are called chakkarai. Usually they are very hot. But I made these mild just for you.”

“Oh? Thanks,” he said as he took a bite of one of the crunchy snacks. “Mmmm, these are good! Kind of like really crunchy french fries.”

After he finished his chakkarai and Limca, she said, “Now beck to bed with you! Come!”

The following day started out as a repeat of the previous. She rousted him out of bed and led him to the kitchen where she set two plates full of large round thin crispy snacks, and two cups of Limca.

He took a bite of his and wolfed it down. “Mmm! Good! What are these!”

“These are just a snack. They’re papadum.” She broke off a small piece of the papad in her hand and handed it to him. “Try this.”

He took a bite; then paused. He scrambled to grab his cup of Limca and swallowed it in one gulp.

“Hot — hot — hot!” he sputtered. “Please! More Limca!”

She quickly refilled his cup, which he gulped down again. And she refilled it again.

After a while, he resumed nibbling on the papad on his own plate, reassuring himself that his own was safe to eat.

Next she served them more round pancake-like things that weren’t as large as the dosa, along with more of those little cups of colorful dips. “These are paratha. They’re filled with vegetables. I made yours mild like I always do.”

Bennie picked up a paratha from his plate and took a cautious bite without dipping it in any of the sauces. “Mmmm! Yum! These are good too!”

“Are we going out anywhere?” Bennie asked her.

“Not today. I want us to spend time together this weekend.”

That was fine with Bennie. Ordinarily, he was a stay-at-home kind of guy and hated it whenever past girlfriends dragged him out to the mall and other stuff on weekends when he would rather just stay home and relax on his days off. But here he was in an exotic city halfway around the world from suburban New Jersey; he wanted to go out and explore.

After brunch, they went back into the living room to watch another movie. He expected to listen to another screeching, off-key Hindi movie for the next hour, but giggled when she put on the director’s remake of The Matrix: Finally Destroyed Once And For All. He had lost all interest in The Matrix when they blinded Neo and killed Trinity in the third movie; the hero who saved the world deserved to get the girl and live happily ever after.

Later, Sathya took Bennie out and went to a Chinese buffet down the block where she let him pick out what he wanted. He took a plate of fried beef and pork and tried a piece of sushi, while she took a bowl of steaming hot rice and various vegetables.

“You know,” he said to her. “I had to upload a copy of me in order to be allowed to download someone else. Did you have to upload yourself before you could download me?”

“Yes, I uploaded myself.”

“And do you ever wonder what’s happening to all those other copies of you right now?”

“I looked at my download count about a week ago when I downloaded you. That was about a month after I uploaded myself. I haven’t been downloaded at all by anyone.”

“I’m surprised!” Bennie said. “You’re such a pretty girl!”

She smiled and kissed her fingers and touched his hand.

Still, he slept alone that night.

The next morning, Sathya woke early and came into Bennie’s room. “Bennie,” she whispered.

“Yes?” he yawned as he sat up in bed.

“I have to go to work. I’ll be home later. Don’t go out anywhere.”

Bennie went back to sleep after she left, then woke again around noon. He always slept late on weekends to make up for having to get up early during the week to go to work. Now it seemed that it would be just the opposite; he would get up early on weekends, and be allowed to sleep late during the week. Not a bad trade! Being illegal for clones to work might just turn out to be a dream come true for a guy, but would he eventually feel emasculated being a “kept man?” indeed, a slave?

When he finally got up, he found that tub of chakkarai, and finished it. He was itching to go out and explore, but without a key or money, he didn’t want to think of what could happen to him in a strange city in a foreign country.

Sathya returned home that evening. During dinner, Bennie asked, “Sathya, do you think I could be able to go out when you’re at work?”

Sathya went and came over with her purse and reached in. “Here’s a key if you want to go out tomorrow. But don’t go too far and get lost. Clones are property, and bad things can happen to you.” Almost as an after thought, she handed him some money. “This is just in case you do get lost. Wave down a taxi and tell the driver ‘Tardeo Circle’.”

He went out the next day, testing the key in the lock before letting the door close behind him. Then he just walked around the block. Some store displays were in English, but most weren’t. He wondered if, maybe, Sathya would give him enough money to buy a NextBox and replace his video game collection. She had given him 100 rupees, enough for a taxi ride from anywhere in the city to her condo building, though a taxi ride of a few blocks shouldn’t cost more than four or five rupees. She said a rupee is equivalent to a dollar in buying power and the taxi rates seem to bear that out, but when he passed a game store and saw video games priced at 2200 rupees, and a NextBox console listed for 13000 rupees, he had to wonder.

When he asked her about that later, she explained that products manufactured in India are priced at about one rupee to a dollar in buying power. She said that, for example, a gallon of milk that sells for $2.00 in the US sells for Rs.2 in India. Likewise, an American car might sell for $20,000 in America. An equivalent Indian-made car would sell for Rs.20,000 in India, and even then is beyond the means of all but the wealthiest Indians. However, imported goods are sold at the exchange rate, which is why most Indians can’t afford imported goods.

“But what about all the Indians working for American companies?” Bennie asked. “In America we call it outsourcing. A lot of tech jobs are outsourced to India.”

Sathya laughed. “You don’t understand. American companies contract work to us to do work for Americans. We charge them in American dollars, and we pay our employees in Rupees.”

“We?” Bennie asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I own a 20% partnership in what you call an ‘outsourcing company’.”

“I see,” said Bennie. “So you charge an American company, say, $80,000 a year to provide an employee here in India to do the work; and you pay that Indian, what, Rs.80,000 in salary?”

“No. We pay the Indian half of what we charge the client, and we keep half.”

“Half of what?” Bennie asked.

“Half of 80,000, silly!”

“Oh? So you charge the American company $80,000, and pay the Indian Rs.40,000, and you keep the other, uhm, half?”

“Yes! Exactly!” said Sathya. “The client in America gets work done at a price far less than they’d have to pay an American. And the Indian employee makes more money in a year than most Indians make in a lifetime. It’s all very fair for everyone. And my company is one of the best paying companies for Indians.”

“How many employees do you have?”

“We have about 400 employees in India working for various clients throughout the USA.”

Being a computer geek, or a copy of a computer geek, Bennie did a quick conversation calculation in his head. Blazing paddles! No wonder she’s rich!

At least she gave him enough money to buy a NextBox and a few games the following day, though not enough to replace his entire collection of dozens of games. At least it was enough to replace the latest incarnations of Halo and Grand Theft Auto and Half Life.

The week went by uneventfully. Bennie passed his time in the afternoon playing games while Sathya was at work. They sat together in the evening watching TV on the sofa, like families had done for the past hundred years or so.

Come Saturday morning, Sathya had him don his kurta, but gave him special gold buttons with diamond inlays to button it with. Cool! Sathya had put on her salwar pants and shirt.

“Are we going out?” Bennie asked.

“A friend is getting married today. Come.”

Hailing a cab on the street, she said, “Juhu beach,” to the driver.

Though he was curious, Bennie remained quiet during the long cab ride that took them onto an express corridor about 200 feet above a grassy median with other odd-looking Indian-made vehicles flying along with them.

They eventually landed on a dirt road lined with small stucco houses. Bennie followed Sathya up the walk to one of the houses. The door opened revealing two Indian women inside adorned in brightly colored green and yellow saris.

“Hi,” they all said together, hugging each other.

“Who’s this?” one of them asked.

Putting her hand on Bennie’s shoulder, Sathya said, “This is the boy I told you I downloaded.”

To Bennie she said, “This is Bhavna and Vima.”

“Hi,” Bennie said to them.

“Vima is getting married today,” Sathya said.

“Congratulations, Vima!” Bennie said.

“Thanks,” said Vima.

Sathya told Bennie to wait in the living room while the three women went into the kitchen and spoke in either Hindi, or Gujarati, or some other Indian language.

They returned, each carrying cups of Limca and bowls of something they were eating with spoons, while continuing to talk.

“Nothing for me?” Bennie asked.

“Too hot for you,” Sathya said, “but try it if you want.”

Bennie took a tiny spoonful and, almost on cue, Sathya had the cup of Limca ready to hand to him.

Soon after brought a flurry of activity. Bennie waited while the three women hurriedly got ready for the wedding in the bedroom.

When all the women were done, they looked spectacular. Though they all still wore saris, they had adorned themselves with additional jewelry, and Vima suddenly had what looked like intricate tattoos all over her arms. How odd!

Soon after, Bhavna called for a taxi on her cell phone, and they all piled in and rode to a sort of Indian temple surrounded by a tall stone wall.

The event was a course in international relations. Vima and Srinivas, her husband-to-be, sat at a table at one end of the room. Sathya, Bennie, and Bhavna sat at the next table, as all the tables were placed against a padded bench against the wall of the large rectangular room. A religious-type person chanted in the middle of the room and lit a small bonfire — right on the floor inside the room. Holy cow! What’s with Indians and fire?

Bennie had no clue what was the meaning of anything, so he just continued to watch. After a while, Vima and Srinivas approached the fire, and the religious guy tied their wrists together. Then the couple walked around the fire seven times. The religious guy spoke to them, and they answered back, presumably the wedding vows. Then they returned to their seats. At that, Sathya whispered to Bennie, “They’re now married.”

Soon after food was served. “Be careful,” Sathya whispered to Bennie. “It’s not mild like I make it for you.”

“Okay,” Bennie whispered back. “But why don’t they have dosa here? I like dosa!”

Sathya whispered back, “Dosa is south Indian. The only way to get it in Mumbai is to make it at home.”

“Oh,” said Bennie.

Bennie didn’t recognize any of the food items placed on the table. Fortunately, it was sort of a buffet, with different dishes set on the table for each person to take and put on his own plate. Bennie recognized the papad and the chakkarai, so he took one of each. He took a tiny bite of the papad. It was definitely spicy hot, but not too bad. Rather tasty, actually. He took a sip of his Limca and carefully took another tiny bite.

Desert was a variety of Indian sweets. They all tasted like cheese to Bennie, but he didn’t say that to her.

The dinner ended soon enough, and Sathya and Bhavna went back to what Bennie learned was Bhavna’s house by the beach. Vima, of course, was with her husband on a bullet train to Jammu and Kashmir for their honeymoon.

Sathya called a cab and were back in Tardeo by nightfall.

“You know, Sathya,” Bennie said. “We haven’t known each other very long, but I really wish we could be married. You’re a good person. I care about you and...”

“And you don’t like feeling like my property.”

“Well,” he blushed, “that too.”

“Bennie, we’ve known each other longer than many Indians have known the person they marry before they get married.”

“Yeah, I guess we have.”

“If we could get married, where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”

“I’ve always thought going to one of those Lunar resorts would be fun, even romantic to take a girlfriend to. It would be amazing to see the earth from our hotel window! Where would you want to go?”

“I think I’d want to do the same thing! Wait here.”

Sathya went into her bedroom where Bennie heard her typing at her computer for about a half-hour. When she came out, she went over to her temple in the corner and set a candle in the middle of the floor and lit it. “Take my hand, Bennie,” she said.

“What?”

“Take my hand!”

Bennie reached out and took Sathya’s hand. They walked around the candle seven times, then Sathya led Bennie over to her idols and knelt before them to say a prayer in Hindi.

She turned to Bennie and said, “I promise from now on, no matter what happens, your life is safe.”

“Really? Are we married now?”

“Not legally. But we are to Krishna.”

“Who?” Bennie asked.

Sathya reached under her coffee table and handed Bennie a thick book. Bennie looked at the title in English, “Baghavad Gita As It Is?”

“Yes! Read it!”

“Now?”

“Not right now. You can read it on the flight. The flight goes out to the Heinlein Station at the L5 point, holds overnight, then continues on to the Imbrium Castle on the Moon.”

“Imbrium Castle? The Moon?”

“Yes, Bennie, I made our reservations. The flight leaves tonight.”

Bennie and Sathya packed then, and were soon in a taxi on their way to Mumbai International Airport, from there they would board Virgin Galactic flight 107, a SpaceShipNine, to the Moon.

Their flight left that evening and approached Heinlein Station several hours later. Bennie lay on the bunk in their private stateroom and held his wife gently. Through the portal window, Bennie watched as the quivering shaft of the shuttle slid into the trembling cavern of the docking port. The docking clamps took hold while the shuttle throbbed and the pressures equalized. Sathya sighed and kissed his forehead.

“How was it for you?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but these fire-safe cigarettes taste funny.”