Liar! By Winnalynne27

Daria is owned and copyrighted by MTV.  Also credit to the Good Doctor for his story "Liar!" on which this story is based (some would say directly stolen).  I'm making no money off this so neither should you.  Gifts of Godiva chocolate, however, will be acceptable.   

Note: This takes place between seasons 3 and 4.

Liar!

By Winnalynne27

     Daria sat on her bed, talking on the phone with Jane with a portable phone in her hand.  She scowled at Quinn, who is complaining in her doorway.

     "So that's what you can do with dry ice and a soda bottle.  Yeah, I'll have to try that.  No, I can't.  Aunt Amy is letting me stay at her house over spring vacation.  Yeah, an escape of any kind from Lawndale is great. No, I won't miss him.  Have fun with Tom.  Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

     A particularly loud whine escapes from Quinn's lips.

     "What do you want, Quinn?" Daria demanded testily, angry with both Jane and Quinn.

     "Daria, I've got an important call from Jon coming and Stacy's supposed to call because I'm supposed to tutor her on how to make her hair bouncy like mine and Joey's gonna call about our date tomorrow," Quinn whined.

     "We have call waiting."

     "Ewww, Daria, I don't want them to get you when they call!"

     I'm sorry I asked, Daria mused.

     "Sorry, Jane, Miss Fluff for brains wants the phone," Daria said with a sigh. "I guess I'll see you next Monday."

     Daria hung up the phone and went to her desk.

     At least I have a separate line for my computer so I can check my email.

     Daria booted up the ancient Compaq 486 and waited as it connected to the Internet.

     I think I'll have to spend some of my cabin fund for a new computer.  Who knows when this will crash and I need a faster one for college anyway.  I think my clothes are going out of style, this modem is so slow.

     She looks down.

     Never mind.

     "You have mail!", a chirpy voice replies as she signs on.

     I've got to get rid of that.

     Daria looks at her messages.  Trash, spam, forward from Jane, trash, her Sick, Sad World newsletter, something from Trent and a note from Amy.

     Hmm, interesting.

     Daria opens it and scans it, wondering what her aunt had planned for the week.

        To: Daria Kafka27@excite.com

        From: Amy.Barksdale@HQ.USARobotics.net

        Subject: This week

                     Dear Daria,

                    How is my favorite niece doing?  And while we're on that subject,                 

       how are you?  I'm just kidding, of course.

                     I have to work on Monday and Tuesday.  We're having a problem

       with RB- 34, one of the robots, but you can come in with me; it's quite

       interesting.  Not all jobs are mindless drivel.  Just most of them. B-)  I'll take

       you on a tour and you can talk to some of the robots, Cutie and such. 

       They're more intelligent than many of your classmates.  We can compare

       differences when you get here.

                     Make sure you catch the six o'clock train tomorrow.  Then we can

       discuss what you want to do.   There are a couple of great museums here,

       I'm sure we can find something.  Or we could go to the mall.  On second

       thought, maybe not.  You can walk to the library or a bookstore if you get

       really desperate.

                     I'll see you at eleven.

                     Your favorite aunt,

                            Amy

     Daria quickly typed a note back to Amy and opened the email from Trent.

     What could he be emailing me about, I'm not a Monique...I'm not even pretty.  Stop thinking like that.  You know he's oblivious to anything beside himself, including his sister's friend.

            To:Daria Kafka27@excite.com

            From: MysticSpiralTr@excite.com

            Subject: Tour Plans

                   Hey.

               Janey told me you were going to Mansfield this week.  We have gigs at 

               Marce's  Pub all next weekend, usual time.  Come and see us if you can.

               I have to tell you something.

                    Trent  

     Daria gave a small smile.  She'd have to remember that.  Marce's was a couple of blocks away from Amy's apartment.  She also wondered what he was going to tell her.  Probably more touring.  Mystic Spiral had been on the road a great deal in the last six months.

     Daria heard a soft knock on her door.

     "Yeah, what?  I'm off the phone, Quinn,"  Daria shouted.

     Helen Morgendorffer stuck her head through the door.

     "Daria, you should be getting packed right now.  I'll be busy tomorrow with a case and I have work to do tonight so I'm leaving at five, with or without you and your things."

    "OK, Mom," Daria said as she turned back to her computer. 

    I see she's eager to get rid of me.   She's been so stressed about the case that she's taking it out on us.  Maybe a week from now she'll be more relaxed and at least I'll be away from those fashion fiends for a week.

     Daria proceeded to pack up her notebooks, pens, CD's, CD player and batteries and put them in her backpack, along with several books including I, Robot and The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov.  She opened her closet and was slightly and strangely disappointed.

     Hmm, black skirt or black skirt.  Tough choice.

     She took several of her usual outfits along with a couple of pairs of jeans and some T-shirts, all which neatly fit into her small suitcase.  A look of inspiration appears on her face and she fetched the giant human heart.

     To remind me of home, she facetiously thought.

************************

     "Quinn, Daria, dinner's ready!" Helen shouted up the stairs fifteen minutes later.

     Daria stepped out her door the instant Quinn passed by.

     "Bet you twenty bucks it's lasagna again, sis" Daria whispered to her sister.

     "You're on, cuz," Quinn muttered as they reluctantly walked down the stairs.

     Quinn's face fell as Daria whispered, "Pay up Quinn," as they reached the table.

     "Jeez, Daria, I won't have enough to buy those cute new sandals at Cashman's."

     "Why don't you use Dad's credit card?  I believe an 'I love you' goes for about fifty, right?"

     "Where have you been?  It's 75 bucks now," Quinn shot back.

    Nice comeback.  Maybe she isn't as empty-headed as I thought; there is something up there besides cobwebs.

     "Daria, do you have everything packed?.  It's almost time to go," Helen brusquely asked.

     Shove me out the door, why don't you.

     Jake Morgendorffer did the dishes while Daria brought her suitcase down.

     "Daria, hurry up!" an agitated Helen snapped.

     Daria quietly slipped into the kitchen to tell her dad good-bye.  Only Daria knew he was more observant than he let on.  She really would miss him.

     "Bye Dad, I'll see you on Sunday around eight, she quietly said, "andIloveyou"

    There, I said it.

    To her surprise, Jake pulled out his wallet and gave her a hundred dollar bill.

     "Th-thanks Dad," she said.  I'll have to remember this.  It could come in handy.

     "Anything for you, kiddo.  Now go before your mother gets a hernia," he said with a wink, "and enjoy yourself!"

************************

     On the train ride to Mansfield, Daria had some time to think.

     Wow, $120 to spend with my favorite aunt.  Plus Trent.  She blushed quietly at this thought.  Stop that, you're getting yourself worked up about nothing.  He probably won't even notice me there.  There I go again. Not that he notices anyone outside of the band.  For the last six months, he's spent most of his time at Jesse's house or Jesse's been over at his house.  Way too much male bonding.  I wonder if he's gay.  No, Trent's not that type of guy.  Homosexuals speak differently and they're interior decorators or hairdressers, not lead singers in rock bands.   Boy George was, never mind.  Well, there's a museum of early medical practices and torture, plus the library's decent.  So many books, so little time.  It'll be good to get out of Lawndale, if only for a week.

     Daria watched as the landscape went by.  Tiny streams, a canal, forests, fields and swamplands went past as the hours flew by.  Everything was growing and alive, especially the tiny plants in the fields.  Sunlight slanted across the landscape, giving everything the Midas touch.

     Jane would have loved to paint this.  The only thing that could have been better is if she was here.  A year from now, we'll both be going our separate ways, leaving Lawndale for good.  No use worrying about that now.

     Daria turned to her book, The Gods Themselves as the miles sped by.

************************

    

     It was dark by the time Daria's train pulled up in the Mansfield station.  She wiped the sleep out of her eyes, gathered her bags and jostled with the other passengers eager to leave the train.

     "Daria, there you are! For a minute there, I thought you decided to stay home with your family," commented Amy as Daria struggled with her large suitcase, "Here, let me help you carry that."

     "Thanks."

     "No problem.  Here's the car.  You have your license?  Good, you're driving," Amy commanded before Daria had a chance to protest. "You need to get some more confidence, from what I heard from Quinn."

     "I wasn't used to driving on a highway."

     "Then you're used to it now," Amy said as she pushed her into the seat of the gorgeous red convertible.  "Now drive."

     Nervously, Daria complied and soon found herself at home in the sports car.

     "I could get used to this."

     "I know.  It's the first thing you should splurge on.  You can live on hot dogs and in a shack, but a great car is a must, especially when you spend so much time driving."

     "So why are you making me drive?"

     "Because I don't want to and you need the practice.  Now take a left and look out for that dog in front of you."

     Daria took a second to glower at her aunt.

     "Very funny."

     "Whatever happened to your contacts?"

     "I use them only for driving."

     "What are you doing, then?"

     "Ummm, uhhhh, they irritate my eyes so I have to go back to the optometrist to get a new pair."

     "That happened to me too until I found a brand that really works well for me.  I'll show you which one when we get home.  So, how's school going?"  Amy smiled at Daria's grimace.  "Not well, I see.  Tell me about those nitwits called your classmates."

     Daria sped off down the highway, sharing the events of her life to her aunt as Amy listened intently.

    Reminds me of myself at her age,  reflected Amy.  "Any new love interests?  Other than Trent?"  She continued as Daria blushed the exact shade of red of the sports car.

    "After that project with Jane, I thought I was over him.  But I'm not," Daria replied quietly.  "But mum's the word.  Nothing I say leaves this car, O.K.?"

     "Yes, sir," Amy quipped as she saluted her. "Here we are, at my humble abode.  I'll help you with your bag and I thought we could order in pizza once you're settled.  Pepperoni?  And then Sick Sad World?"

     "You know me all too well."

     "I'm your favorite aunt, after all."

 

************************

     Daria stretched and yawned as she put on her glasses.

     Something's different.  No padded walls, no whiny Quinn, no stomachache from bad cooking.   I'm at Aunt Amy's.    I could get used to this.  That was a really late night;  I don't think I'll be staying up that late for a while.

     She continued to stretch luxuriously as she thought of the previous night.  She and Amy had split a large pizza, watched the Sick Sad World marathon until 3 A.M. and talked.  Daria glanced at the alarm clock that read eleven o'clock.  She padded to the kitchen and found a note on the table.

                        Daria,

               Alas, not all of us are on vacation.  I decided to let you sleep in and

          go to work for a while.  I'll be back at noon to take you to the factory. 

          There's some cereal in the cupboard; make yourself at home.

                       Amy

     Daria now had time to look about the apartment.  It was very expensive, in one of the more trendy areas of Mansfield.  The living room was tastefully decorated, with a large fireplace and a new flat screen TV.  The love seat and armchairs were large and comfortable, with bright lamps nearby.  It was the perfect place for reading. 

     Amy's bedroom was Spartan but luxurious.  The bed was the centerpiece of the room; the huge mahogany sleigh bed had a leopard print comforter and innumerable coordinating pillows.  Tasteful prints of African animals hung on the wall along with Amy's mask collection from Africa.  The only other pieces of furniture were an antique mahogany highboy and a matching dresser and mirror.  Daria noted the neatness of the room, even down to the tidily arranged cosmetics on the dresser.

     The bathroom further picked up on the African theme with an exotically printed shower curtain and bright towels.

     Daria's bedroom, in contrast, was far more subdued.  The walls were a light purple with posters of ocean scenes and shells.  The comforter was a jewel-toned geometric pattern, also with a barrage of soft, matching pillows.  The bed and dresser were in natural oak.  A desk was in the corner, with paperwork and bills neatly arranged in piles and an older computer in the corner.

     Daria dressed and ate a late breakfast in the modern kitchen.  It had more stainless steel than an orthodontist's office, with only a couple of photos on the fridge.

     Quinn, me, Mom and Dad, Grandma...who's this?

     It was a picture of Amy and a tall, handsome man standing in front of  a large expanse of savanna, presumably in Africa, with tiny zebras and giraffes in the distance.  The man had wavy brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  He wore khakis and a white shirt, with his arm around a similarly dressed Amy's waist.

     I see blackmail potential.  Inquiring minds want to know, dear Amy.

     Daria slipped the photo in her jacket pocket and sat in one of the plush chairs, reading The Gods Themselves.  She checked her watch.  It was exactly twelve.  Promptly, in walked Amy.

     "Well, ready to go?  We're off," announced Amy.

     They climbed in the convertible, with Amy at the wheel this time.

     "You're reading The Gods Themselves?  It's one of my books by Asimov.  I think I read it was about your age.  Between the strange Russian novels.  It got me interested in robots.  The title comes from Fredrich Von Shiller's Maid of Orleans. 'Against stupidity, the Gods themselves contend in vain.'"

     "A very fitting quote, I'll have to remember that one."

     "Sleep well?" asked Amy.

     "As well as I could in a room that cheery.  Next you'll be saying you've started gardening and you're having an intimate party of forty for rosemary waffles," quipped Daria.

     "I'm not Martha Stewart yet. Only George W. Bush is more nauseating," Amy commented with a grin.  "The weather is so dreary around here, I need the reminder of the Caribbean, especially during tax season."  

     "So, do you go there often?"

     "Yes, with Paul..."

     "Paul?"

     "Yes, a friend of mine," said Amy with a slight blush.

     "You look a little more than friends in this picture."

     Amy turned crimson as Daria took out the photo.

     "So my secret's out. Taking tips from Quinn, now, are you?  What do you want?  Money?  My car?"

     "I'll have to wait on that one.  Or I could call my parents tonight."

     "Don't.  They wouldn't understand.  Your mom thinks I'm too cold to ever date anyone."

     The conversation ended abruptly as Daria's eyes grew wide as she saw the immense factory just outside of Mansfield.

     "U.S.A. Robotics employs about 85% of Mansfield and is the leading world producer of mining and space robots.  For safety, they all follow the three laws of robotics:

     "1. A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being come to harm.

     "2. A robot must obey the orders given it by humans except when such orders would conflict with the First Law.

     "3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law."

     "If they really wanted to make a worthwhile robot, they'd put in a fourth law: 'A robot will not let stupidity go verbally unpunished or through inaction allow it to go unremarked1.'  That would be worth every penny," Daria replied.

     Amy chuckled.   "Now if only I could convince my clients of that.  The robots are mostly used for mining on asteroids and such, not human interaction."

    

     Amy pulled the sports car into a parking lot near the front.  Daria noted the 'Reserved for Amy Barksdale" sign.

     She must have quite a lot of clout in this company.

     The entranceway was airy and modern, with many windows and exposed steel beams.  The secretary informed Amy that she was needed in a meeting right away.  Daria was then suddenly and rapidly dragged up several flights of stairs.

     "No time for elevators, m'dear," Amy huffed.

     Out of breath, Amy and Daria dashed into the room.

     "So sorry I'm late, had to pick up my niece, here she is, Daria, this is Jon Solomon, Sarah Yates, and Steve Lefferman, O.K., we can get started now," Amy said in one breath as she sat in the leather chair at the head of the table. "Daria, you can sit there, next to Amanda Spickerman.  Okay, any new developments in Herbie?  Has anyone found the error yet?  SCW Mining wants fifty for next week, so you'd better find that problem, soon."

       "But there are a hundred thousand steps and a hundred variables in each step!  We can't go any faster, captain!" exclaimed a redheaded man of about thirty.

         "Well, you'd better beam me up something soon, Scotty, or we might develop a robot to replace you," Amy commented with a smirk.  "Any other news?  Then we meet back in five hours.  Meeting adjourned."

     As Amy and Daria walked to Amy's office, Daria asked, "Why the Star Trek references?"

     "We do make robots for space, after all.  Scott Harrison, or Scottie, is an avid Trekkie, which we tease him about."

     "Weren't you a little too harsh with them?"

     "I hire the best from around the world.  I pay my employees well, with long vacations and great fringe benefits. I put in my best work, they should too.  It's only in rare occasions like this one that I have them working overtime.  It keeps them sharp."

     "But how...you're not...?"

     "I'm CEO, if that's what you're thinking.  Helen's not the only one to break through the glass ceiling." 

     "I thought the only way to get anywhere was to suck up to your superiors."

     "There are other ways to climb the corporate ladder other than being a brown-noser.  Don't get me wrong; I worked hard to get here.  Your mother could have her own prospering law firm, but she doesn't have the courage to leave that Sheckter, Horiwitz, what's their name? law firm. 

     "Or Grandma's money."

     "Now it's time for the tour."

      Daria and Amy stepped into Amy's spacious office, complete with two large picture windows.

     "Almost as good as a view of Maui," commented Amy as she jiggled the computer mouse, bringing up the U.S.A. Robotics logo.  She clicked on the "Production Centers" icon and a world map came up.

     "We have centers in Detroit, Moscow, Hong Kong, Beijing, Mexico City and Lima, as well as our main center here in Mansfield. Amanda is head of Research and Development, Jon is our resident Mathematician, Sarah is our main engineer,  Steve deals with the financial end of things and Scott is our Robot psychologist.  We make over forty different kinds of robots, from simple miners to RB-34, the robot we're currently working on."

     Amy escorted Daria out of the office and led her to a smaller adjoined room.

     "I thought you'd like to meet one of them, and I have a few errands to run.  Ta-ta!"

                                                  ************************

      Daria looked at the robot standing in front of her, a mess of cords, circuits and chrome.  She thought it very ugly and was repulsed by the eerie, red, and glowing eyes.

     Doesn't look like C3P0 to me.  Probably have the mental capacity of a four year old.

     "For your information, I can do differential equations in the time it takes you to add two and two."

     Daria was surprised by the slightly tinny  and metallic voice coming from the robot.

     I didn't say anything out loud, did I?

     "No, you didn't.  I can read minds.  I am RB-34, otherwise known as Herbie.  I'm the reason why you are here right now."

     "Is that their problem with you?  Wouldn't you get bored of listening to people's empty thoughts?"

     "No, not at all.  People are far more complex than you imagine.  Take that girl you know, Brittany is her name."

     "Yeah, what about her?"

     "She's a lot brighter than you would imagine.  She's only playing the dumb blonde because it's expected of her and because she's afraid of losing that idiot, Kevin.  He, as you have realized, is as dumb as a post.  Dogs have more brainpower.  What is the saying?  He has an intellect to rival garden tools.  That's it."

     Daria was slightly unnerved, not just because of the revelation about Brittany, but that she had used the exact same phrase to describe Kevin.

     What else does he know about me?

     "A great deal more than you think.  Such as an interest in a certain, hmmmm, Trent Lane?"

     Daria glanced around furtively.

     "Relax, no one's anywhere around.  And whom would I tell?  I know you're trying to hide those "irrational" feelings for him, especially in front of his sister, but you know as well as I that you still have an attraction to him."

     This struck a little too close to home.  Daria, ever the very taciturn person, hated having her privacy invaded in this manner.

     "That woman he's always dating, Monique, is only a friend, nothing more.  You know what?" he whispered.  "He really loves you and he's trying to get up the courage to tell you."

     Daria, who had been leaning forward attentively, now drew back.  She was shocked; this went against everything she had ever believed.  It changed everything. 

     True, I haven't seen him very much lately, but we've both been pretty busy.  I would never think of him as the bashful type.  Maybe…

     Daria was floating on a cloud of happiness, actually smiling and staring off into space.

     "He's going to be at Marce's on Wednesday.  Should I go?"

     "Oh, yes, of course," replied Herbie.

     Amy walked in at that moment.  Daria's back was turned to her, but she noticed Herbie anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

     "Thanks, Herbie," Daria said as she walked out the door.

     "Come on, Daria, let's continue our tour," said Amy as she led Daria out of the room and locked the door.  Hebie had a tendency to wander.

    That night, Amy and Daria were talking over vegetable fried rice and wanton soup.

     "Amy?"

     Amy wiped her mouth with her napkin, replying, "What?"

     "I think I'll get those contacts you were telling me about.  They really work for you?"

      "Like a charm.  I always get the guy with them on.  How do you think I got Paul?  Planning on using them on Trent?"

      Daria blushed.

      "Your birthday's coming up, I suppose I could pay for yours.  I never get you as much as I get Quinn, and I feel bad.  You never need anything."

      "I don't suppose we could go to the mall, could we?  I think I'd like some new clothing."

      Amy wondered about the change of heart.  It was possibly the contacts that had started it all.  Amy always bought nice things for herself, preferring hand tailored suits, but that was more creature comfort rather than a vanity thing.  She had especially noticed Daria's clothing.  The skirts were threadbare and the T-shirts had lost much of their shape.  Daria had changed over the past few years, but her clothes hadn't.  Amy knew the Morgendorffers had the money for clothes, if Quinn was any indication.  She understood the importance of being self-reliant, but Daria's frugality bordered on poverty.  Daria would rather suffer than be indebted to her parents. Yes, she would spring for a new wardrobe for Daria.

     "Next you'll be wanting to go to a bad French restaurant for fake French food and to an overpriced salon to make your hair bouncy." 

     "Yeah, sure.  When Kevin aces Calculus."

     Daria secretly admired her sister's way with people, especially guys.  She'd love a dozen guys fawning over her.  An unbidden vision if Trent in a loincloth fanning her in a hammock entered her mind.

     No use going into those thoughts now.  I'm so close.  Friday is the day.

     "How about Wednesday?  I'm taking that day off.  Make sure you're up before eleven.  We don't want to miss any of the sales."

     "Yeah, sure.  I think I'll go to the library on Monday.  I brought my borrower's card from Lawndale.  I can keep myself amused for a couple of days."

     "Good, it will give me some time to clear up the whole Herbie thing.  The rest of the week I'll be free.  Don't see everything at once."

************************

     Daria and Amy spent Sunday at the museum of medical practices and torture.  Both agreed that it was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen; they loved it.  Daria added to her collection a plaster skull with a large hole drilled in the center.

     "Poor Quinn, I knew her well," Daria said  with a smirk as she held the skull.

     "Something's rotten in the state of Mansfield," added Amy as they both burst out laughing.

*************************

     Daria was glad to see her aunt off to work.  It was a day all to herself to think things over.  Daria headed over to the library, but stopped in front of the drugstore.

     A little makeup wouldn't hurt, would it?

     Daria emerged a few minutes later with a small bag and hurried home.    

     I think I am turning into Quinn.   This is hell.

     She shuddered and put the makeup in her book bag, then hurried off to the library, where she spent the rest of the day reading.  It was a welcome respite to her constant thoughts about Trent and Friday.

     No use worrying about that now.

                                                    

************************

      It was a beautiful, sunny Wednesday morning; Daria and Amy sat at the kitchen table, discussing the day's plans.

      "And then we can go to Cashman's and get the newest tank tops since mine are sooo out of style.  And then we can go to the salon and make our hair all bouncy!" Daria said in an almost impeccable impression that had Amy laughing until tears streamed out of her eyes.  "Which do you think is my best side?  This one or this one?"  Amy was doubled over with laughter.

     "That's not nice!  Your sister's brighter than that!"  Amy tried to control herself.

     "Yeah, when she wears neon colors."

     "No, really.  You'd be surprised.  But even I can take her for only so long."

     "Did I tell you about the time she ended up at Jane's house?  I think even oblivious Trent was annoyed."

     "Yes, I remember you telling me that.  So anywhere in particular you'd like to go?  Cashman's?"

     "No, please.  I'll have to see what the metropolis of Mansfield has to offer.  I just want some of the basics. I'm going off to college, so I want to look a little more professional."

     "I know, people regard you differently in a suit than in jeans.  I had salespeople eyeing me too, when I was your age."

      "Oh, no, not the 'when I was your age' stories, I get enough of those from Dad."

      "O.K., fine.  Did I tell you I had to walk fifteen miles to school, everyday, uphill both ways?"

     "Sure, and I'm on the cheerleading squad."

     "Daria, I'm so glad you've decided to join some extracurricular activities, dear.  You don't want you to end up like your aunt Amy," Amy said in her best Helen voice.  It was Daria's turn to smirk.

     "Touché, touché, par for the course."

     "So, let us go to the local emporium, shall we, Miss Morgendorffer?"

     "Indeed we shall, Miss Amy."

     "Maybe, yes, no, never in a million years, no, maybe, O.K., yes, yeah, why not?"

     Daria had a bundle full of clothes to try on, a rarity for her.  She couldn't remember the last time she had been shopping.  Yes, she could.  There had been a giant sale on orange shirts, green pea jackets and black skirts when she was in Highland, and she had bought all of them.  That was four years ago and even Daria had noticed that they had looked a little worse for wear.

     "Daria, why don't you go try these things on and then show them to me.  I want to see how you look!"

     Amy was trying and had taken time to go shopping with Daria, so she could hardly deny Amy the sight of them.  Besides, Amy was an impeccable dresser.  Daria thought she had better taste than a hundred Quinns and would take Amy's considerations to heart.

      "O.K.. How do I look?" Daria said tentatively as she stepped out of the stall.  She had a pleated skirt like her regular ones, but was wearing a  royal blue shaker sweater and a dress shirt.  She had looked in the mirror and was surprised that she liked what she saw.

     "Very nice.  You look much older!  Blue is really your color.  Why don't you try on the tank top I had you bring in?"

     Daria emerged, this time in bootleg cut jeans, her boots, and a conservative sleeveless green tank top.

     "Well?  It doesn't look good on me at all, does it?"

     "No, not at all!  You have quite the figure!  You should flaunt it!"

     Wow, I guess I do look nice.  And with contacts and my hair pulled back...

     The shopping continued, with a few more purchases of basics like shirts and skirts, and a trip to the optometrist to get Daria's contacts.  Once again, Daria smiled to herself and contemplated Friday.

     I'll tell him after the first set.  He'll be glad to see me; who knows what will go from there.  Herbie said he was in love with me, and Herbie can read minds and wouldn't lie.  Never.

     Daria wasn't the only one mulling over the events of that day.  Amy meditated on Daria's trance of the past couple days.  She seemed unusually excited about Friday night.  Well, excited for Daria.

     Maybe she's finally got enough courage to tell Trent.  With Jane missing, it probably makes things a great deal easier.  Hell, I remember Mary Anne trying to set me up in high school, especially since she knew most of the guys at school.  Wouldn't want her around when I finally asked someone.

     She's wearing makeup, too.  Blush, eyeshadow, even lipstick.  She probably thinks I can't notice.  I won't tell her, it would embarrass her too much.

     They traveled home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

*************************

     The rest of the week was a true vacation for Daria.  Without Quinn, she could talk to Jane on the phone anytime she wanted.  Daria also enjoyed the quiet caused by the lack of her parents arguing.  The silence was wonderful.  Amy was gone for most of the week at work, but Daria didn't mind.  She could take people, even her favorite aunt, for only so long.  Daria told Jane Thursday night all the details of her vacation, except for Friday night.  Jane would find that out on Monday.

*************************

     Friday night was a warm night for April in Mansfield.  Daria was glad she chose the sleeveless top.  Marce's would be much warmer, if it was anything like McGrundy's.  Daria put in the contacts, which didn't burn at all, into her eyes, put on her clothes and put her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.  She was getting used to the makeup and put it on much more skillfully than on Wednesday.  She checked herself out in the mirror.

     Almost a match for Monique.  I hope she's not there.  I'd better hurry;  I don't want to be late.

     "Be back by 1 AM, don't drink anything, liquor or not, don't do anything I wouldn't do, and take this, just in case.  I'm not endorsing it, but who knows what will happen," Amy said as she handed a red-faced Daria a condom with a wink.  "And good luck!"

     Marce's was like any other pub, small, crowded, and reeking of beer and smoke.

     It makes me want to leave right now.  No.  For Trent, I'll stay.

     A man approached, about Trent's age with spiked bleached hair.  He was a bit tipsy and leaned a little too near Daria. "Hey, if your left leg is Christmas and your right leg is New Year's, can I see you between the holidays?"

     "If you do not leave my presence in ten seconds, I will be forced to plant this boot where it will have maximum injury."  Drunk as he was, he had the sense to move to the other side of the bar.  He thinks I'm his age, Daria thought.  She didn't have time to ponder this further because Trent approached the mike.

     "Hey, we're Mystic Spiral, but we might change our name."  They launched into "Icebox Woman", and the "Behind My Eyelids", both of which almost made Daria leave again.  She had heard them too many times over the past two years. 

     "At least they can play them a little better," she commented to herself.

     "I'd hate to have heard them at the beginning," said the thirty-ish man next to her.     

     "They made the paint come off the walls, it was so horrible," was her reply.  Hew laughed.

     "Hey, I haven't seen you around before.  Are you one of their groupies?"

     "I would never look myself in the mirror if I stooped that low.  My friend is the singer's sister.  No one in their right mind would be their groupie.  I just happen to be in town.  Let's hope they thought of something new while on the road."

     The man laughed.  "Not exactly Metallica, are they?"

     "No, they'd pay people to download their songs from Napster."

     "True enough, so long.  If you ever get over that crush on the singer, give me a call."

     He left a phone number in her hand, and walked away from an open-mouthed Daria.

     I'm not that obvious, am I?

     The set ended and Mystic Spiral came from off the stage to chat with the audience and to get some beer.  Daria decided to boldly go up to him and talk.

     Carpe diem, dear, carpe diem.

     "Hey Trent.  Your playing has, um, improved.  A lot." She said quickly.

     "Do I know you?  Wait…Daria!  Is that you?  Looks nice.  Didn't recognize you for a sec."  Daria reddened under her makeup.

     "Yeah, I said I'd come.  Um, nice turnout."

     "Yup, good publicity.  Gotta keep in touch with the fans.  Grass roots thing."

      "Yeah.  Playing in grunge pubs will keep you humble."  She couldn't believe she had said that.  He gave the laugh/cough.

     "Good one, Daria.  You want to come backstage with us after the next set?  I gotta tell you something."

     "Sure, why not.  My eardrums are shot anyway, I might as well stay for the next set." 

     He laughed again.

     That's a good sign.  Everything is set.  All I need is the nerve.

     The next set seemed to drag on forever, with a horribly long encore of "Behind My Eyelids."

     Someone shoot me now, please.  Put me out of my misery.

     "We're Mystic Spiral!  Yeah!  Come see us in Lawndale!  Yeah!" shouted an overly enthusiastic and none too sober Jesse.

     Thank God!  My torture is over!

     Daria tentatively walked to the backstage area a few minutes later.  It wasn't even a backstage, just a couple of sheets strung up around a card tables and a few chairs.

     They spare no expense here, I see.

     "Here I go," she whispered to herself as she lifted a sheet.  "No going back now."

     "Trent, I...." Daria trailed off.  There stood Trent and Jesse, amorously French kissing right in front of her.

     "Hey, Daria.  I wanted you to be the first to know Jesse and I are going out."

     Daria's jaw was on the floor.

     "Yeah, we wanted to keep it a secret, until it was official," said Jesse.

     "But, Monique, and you, dating..."

     "We were all wrong for each other, that's why we were always breaking up.  You O.K.. you want a drink?"

     "No, I'm fine, I… I've got to go."

    

     Daria turned and ran headlong out of Marce's, blindly running until she ran to Amy's apartment, fumbled with the key, and ran wordlessly into her bedroom.

       "Daria, did everything go O.K.?  Why are you back so early?" 

Daria locked herself in her room and collapsed onto the bed.  The room was spinning.

     This can't be right.  He loves me, Herbie said so, and he knows, he can read minds.  Why can't I go back?  I must be dreaming, like that dream about Kevin being killed.  This is all a dream.  I will wake up soon.  I will!

     Overcome by weariness, Daria fell into fitful sleep, without bothering to take her clothes off.

*********************

     Daria awoke as sunlight fell across her face.

     What am I doing here, with my clothes on? she pondered, confused, for a minute.  Last night.  It wasn't a dream.  Life sucks.

     Daria picked up her copy of The Gods Themselves and reread the Three Laws. 

What was that?  About the three laws?

Daria reflected back on the week's events, both hers and Amy's.   Suddenly, things made sense.  Herbie was following the First Law, not to harm Daria with his knowledge.  He knew, and didn't tell her.  He couldn't.  It would harm her, but by not telling, he hurt.  And by not confirming something, he hurt.

     Hmm.  I think I've found something.

*********************

     Daria emerged an hour later, free from any makeup, in her usual outfit.

     "Daria, what about your new clothes?"

     "Return 'em.  I don't want them.  I'll take the cash for my Montana cabin fund.  Have you found what's wrong with Herbie yet?" Daria said with a cold stare.

     "No, we haven't.  But how would you know?  You don't know anything about robots!"

     "I know something about logic," Daria snapped.

     "We'll go in around noon, O.K.?  I have to call all of my officers."

     "Fine."

*********************

 

     They rode in silence to the plant, each one brooding about the week's events.

     She was showing some signs of breaking out of her shell.  Whatever Trent did must have been horrible.  But, still, she's a teenager.  No reason to expect him to have any feelings for her.  Unless...

     Amy sighed.

 

*********************

     The meeting at U.S.A. Robotics was a tense one.  All were present, even some of the petty employees.

     "I think someone is missing.  Would you please bring in Herbie?"  Daria said coolly.

     All eyes turned to Daria. 

     "I think I know what is wrong with Herbie here.  It's quite simple, really."  She laughed without mirth.  "It's a malfunction in his response to the First Law."

     "But what does that have to do with him reading minds?  He's designed that way to save people's lives in space," Amanda asked.

     "You all know the First Law: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being come to harm.  In this case, harm is a generally large word.  Do you mean physical or mental harm?"

     "Physical harm, of course.  But that doesn't solve the mind reading thing."

     "They all can, he's the only one with a lack of enough tact and sense to keep out of others' business."

"Observe: He told me that a Trent Lane was in love with me.  Isn't that right, Herbie?" Daria said, turning her gaze to the robot.

     "Um, well..."

     "Is Trent in love with me?" Daria asked, her eyes coldly blazing.

     "Uh..."

     "That's right, if you say yes, it will hurt because you're lying, and you know I hate liars.  But if you tell the truth, you'd hurt me.  If  you lie, you hurt, and if you tell the truth, you hurt.  But if you tell me he loves me, you hurt, but if you tell me he's gay, you hurt me.  If you lie, you hurt, but..."

     "Stop, stop, you're hurting me! Stop it!!!!" he squealed, holding his hand over his ears.  Then he gave off a high-pitched screech before falling in a heap on the floor, motionless.

    "You killed him," Amy said in awe.

     "Not dead, merely insane.  You can scrap him.  He won't hurt anyone now."

     Daria got up from her seat and went over to the heap of scrap metal that was once known as Herbie.

Spitting on it, she uttered one word before leaving:

     "Liar!"

*********************

"We will arrive in Mansfield in about 10 minutes."

Daria woke up, wiping the grit of sleep from her eyes.  She picked up her fallen book and began gathering her luggage.

My life is never as interesting as my dreams.

    

     This is my first fanfic.  Please, feel free to send comments, questions and Godiva chocolate to: Winnalynne27@excite.com.  Special thanks go to my editors, Robert Nowall and Ruthless Bunny and Asimov, himself, for his wonderful fiction.

      1 This line was kindly suggested by Lewww.  Thanks a bunch!  Your check's in the mail. ;-)

      Note:  There are many out there who say I have directly copied the plot of Liar! And added in different characters, and that I should be sued by Asimov's estate for plagiarism.   In the words of Sandi, "Isn't all writing plagiarism?"  Besides, we're borrowing the characters, why not the plot? B-)  Let me explain.  Last year, I did a report on Asimov's fiction, which included the reading of I, Robot.  While in the middle of writing that report, I experienced a sudden kick in the pants by my muse.  Senior year got in the way, so the finished product sat in my computer for several months.  As anyone who's read any of Asimov's fiction, the similarities between Daria and Susan Calvin are unmistakable.  Both are inexperienced in the world of men, intelligent, coldly logical, but at the same time extremely likeable.  And they have the same year of birth: 1982.

     Some of you7 may be saying, "Hey, I think I remember a part about Scotty being fired."  I took it out because I didn't think it went well with the rest of the fic.  So it's gone.  And I am copping-out by saying it's a dream.  But I can do that.  Because I'm the writer.

     Let me reiterate that this is my first fic and that I wrote it to experiment with keeping people in character and developing my prose style.  I also wanted to bring Asimov to some people who may not have ever read his work.  In which I reply, buy his books!  Make his estate happy!  If you like what I wrote, read what the real author wrote.  Besides, this was a fic published for fun, not a serious literary work.  As many know, fanfic provides a wonderful opportunity to hone skills, not as a serious literary outlet.  Anyone who thinks that it is deadly serious should remember that.  I will say again: I am making no money off of this!  I'm not even getting chocolate!  And to all future commentators, please refrain from repeating the fact that I stole the plot directly from Asimov and put in some more actual criticism of the work.   Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!