The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual.

Additional material by Douglas Adams

THE BIG O:

ACT 29

THE NINE MUSES OF DEATH!

Chapter Three: Euterpe

Roger and Dorothy were seated almost instantly. A waiter offered them a wine list and then left to allow them to peruse the menu. Despite the rationing and shortages the city was suffering from, Rosterman's still managed to have a good selection. Roger suspected the restaurant was dealing with the black market, but that was Dastun's problem, not his.

"Order anything you like Dorothy," Roger offered. "The sky's the limit."

"Thank you Roger," the android glanced around at the other diners in their formal wear. "The gesture is appreciated, although I do not understand the appeal of dining out when Norman can serve you in the safety and comfort of your own house. Nearly all the other diners are probably rich enough to have their own chef at home."

Roger tried to hide a laugh—Dorothy was starting to think like he did. He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes it's nice to do something different. Every once and a while it is nice to dress up, go someplace fancy, and try something you haven't eaten before. Besides, I don't want you to get the impression I'm ashamed of you or anything. This gives me a chance to show you off."

"Father did the same thing," Dorothy nodded. "He took me out to see the town, and to let the town see me. I found it odd, since he was so overprotective and he was such a misanthrope like you, Roger."

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm a private person," Roger shrugged. "What do you have against people who like their privacy? You just called your own father a misanthrope, after all. R Dorothy Wayneright I should think that you of all people would be accustomed to someone who doesn't have to mingle," he gently taunted.

"Being a misanthrope is natural for a decrepit old man who regained enough of his memories to remember that he lost his family," Dorothy pointed out. "I simply think that it is strange for a handsome young man who makes his living off his social skills to shut everyone out."

"You think I'm handsome?" Roger challenged in a futile effort to make an android blush. "Why R Dorothy Wayneright, you little tease, you."

"I am merely stating the obvious," Dorothy said coldly, but of course her voice was often cold. "What do you recommend for an appetizer?"

"It sounds like you think that I should have a more active social life," Roger teased. "Tell you what. From now on, I'll go out, meet some girls, and have a different woman over every night. Would that satisfy you?"

Dorothy lowered her menu to stare coldly at the tuxedoed young negotiator. Since Dorothy wasn't human, her body didn't respond involuntarily to her emotions. That meant that any expression on her face was one she chose. Her eyes were narrow slits, an odd choice to convey hostility, for it gave the impression that the person had impaired vision, and thus would have a disadvantage in combat. Her mouth was a thin hard line, again a strange choice for threatening behavior, for if a traveler came upon an animal in the wild, he would hope that its mouth would be a thin hard line, as opposed a slavering mass of fangs. "I doubt that will be necessary," she said flatly.

Roger chuckled to himself. He didn't think Dorothy really wanted him to be a social butterfly anyway. He suspected that she simply wanted him to be more intimate with his closest friends, specifically her. It was hubris to think that an emotionless android could develop a crush on him, but after all they had been through he didn't believe that R Dorothy Wayneright could truly be classified as 'emotionless'. "Why not start with the seafood platter?" he suggested. "The temperature and texture should provide you an interesting experience."

"Thank you Roger, I shall try the shrimp," she said as her eyes returned to her menu.

Despite the morbid incident at the cemetery Roger allowed himself to relax. Since destroying Big Fau he had been in a surprisingly cheery mood. After the final battle with the white megadeus, Roger hadn't suffered from any blackouts, visions, or hallucinations. No lucid dreams of books burning, megadeuses destroying cities, barcodes, bald children gazing into fires, or android factories producing Roger Smiths haunted him. He was getting his old confidence back, believing in one truth, that he commanded his own destiny. It didn't matter if he chose Big O or if Big O chose him. He once again trusted both the black megadeus and himself.

"Don't limit yourself to just the shrimp," Roger cajoled. "Get the whole platter. Sample them all."

"All right," she said without looking up from her menu. "What are you going to have?"

"I thought I'd have the Porterhouse steak," the tuxedoed negotiator smiled enthusiastically. "We only do this once a year so we might as well indulge!"

Dorothy once again lowered her menu. "Fish would be better for you," she passionlessly scolded.

"I had my heart set on a nice juicy steak," Roger countered.

"There are beef shortages after the riots and Big Fau's attacks on the city," Dorothy pointed out. "The docks and fishing boats weren't significantly harmed during the bombardment. There is plenty of fish."

"Most of the agricultural domes are on the outskirts of the city," Roger shrugged. "The one that took the most damage was old man Rosewater's farm, and it had already been burnt to the ground. I know beef is expensive now, but this is a special occasion."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with our food supplies at the mansion would it?" Dorothy asked him.

"Maybe," Roger shrugged. "We don't know how long these shortages are going to be and I want to make the good stuff last as long as I can."

"Very well Roger," she said as she disappeared behind her menu. "Enjoy your steak."

"When you've made your selection, lower your menu," Roger instructed. "It will let the waiters know that we're ready to order."

"I'm perusing the wine list," she told him.

"Of course," Roger nodded. "I'm going to have the merlot, but feel free to sample whatever kind you want. If you're going to have shrimp I recommend the chardonnay."

As they waited for service, Roger couldn't help but think back to the last time he went out to a restaurant with a woman. The diner he visited with Angel wasn't anywhere near as glamorous, but at least they served good food. Afterwards they had gone to the seashore and almost kissed before Roger hesitated. Would a similar scene play out this evening? Would Angel be proved right in her suspicions about Roger and Dorothy or would the negotiator once again find some way to spoil the moment?

At last a waiter approached their table, but when he arrived he said one of the last things a gentleman wants said in front of his date. "Mister Smith? A lady wishes to speak to you at her table sir." The card he handed Roger was embossed with the Paradigm Logo. "Please follow me."

"Who is it Roger?" Dorothy asked. What emotion was conveyed by her tone of voice? Curiosity? Uncertainty? Hard to tell with Dorothy.

"Looks like a possible job offer," he told her as he rose from the table. "I might as well go see what she wants. If the waiter comes by, tell them what I want. Back soon. Duty calls."

"She?" Dorothy said as she turned her head to look at her guardian following the waiter to a distant table. A blonde woman wearing a pink business suit was sitting at the table, but the young android couldn't identify her because she could only see the back of her. From a certain angle, Dorothy's neutral expression looked like a frown.

The waiter brought the young negotiator to a table where a pale woman waited for him. She was probably in her late forties or early fifties. It was hard to tell, since her hair was dyed an exquisite shade of blonde. She had strange and obviously artificial black eyes, like an insect's.

"Violet Web, perhaps the only woman on the Paradigm Corporation's board of directors," Roger sneered.

"Have a seat Mister Negotiator," she said. "I need to talk to you."

"It will have to be brief," Roger told her as he sat down. "I've got a lady friend waiting for me back at my table and my Porterhouse steak won't want to be kept waiting."

"I want to hire you," she told him.

"So I gathered, but I don't do missions for Paradigm anymore," he countered. "The only reason that I'm here is because a true gentleman doesn't ignore a lady. Is this for the company or is it personal?"

"Personal," she said tersely.

"Ah, then I'm all ears," Roger made a show of being relaxed. A gentleman never acts disrespectful to a lady but never passes up a chance to see a member of the Paradigm Corporation's corrupt board of directors squirm.

"I want you to conduct a negotiation for me," she told him.

"Again, so I gathered," he nodded. "Who with?"

"An assassin," she informed him.

Roger had expected a melodramatic response like this. Two Paradigm executives had been murdered. Both he and Web had witnessed the second murder. It would be naïve to not see the connection to the event at the cemetery to the job offered now. Still the response was sobering.

The handsome negotiator drew a breath and attempted to regain his flippant exterior, but his body language made it clear that he was getting serious. "You want me to negotiate with an assassin?" he joked grimly. "To arrange a murder or prevent one?"

"Prevent one," she snarled, "and perhaps arrange one. I need to know who killed Gasset and Owens, and if I'm on the list."

"It sounds like you need a private investigator…" Roger began.

"You don't understand," she told him. "I want to find out who hired the assassin and whether or not the killer is willing to turn on his employer."

"I see, not just a private eye job but an actual negotiation," Roger nodded. "Sorry Miss Web, but I don't think this is something that I want to get involved in."

"I don't know who hired the assassin or who's next," she hissed. "It doesn't take a genius to see the danger I'm in."

"And it doesn't take a genius to see the amount of danger I'd be in if I got involved," Roger pointed out. "If you want my services, you'll have to make it worth my while."

"Name your price Mister Smith," she told him. "Money is no object."

"What is taking you Roger? Whom are you talking to?" Dorothy's voice asked from over Violet Web's shoulder. The Paradigm board member turned to see a petite girl with a red pageboy haircut and deathly white skin. Her evening gown was a rich glossy green as were the opera gloves that covered her slender, dainty arms. Even the barrette placed over her auburn bangs was green. A white corsage shyly concealed her décolletage.

The winsome android blinked at Violet Web's unblinking stare. Was Dorothy expecting someone else or was she unbalanced by gazing into a pair of eyes even more lifeless and artificial than her own?

Suddenly it came to Roger and he smiled knowingly. The Paradigm board member had worn a black cape at the funeral like Dorothy had, but she was wearing a pink blouse and her hair was dyed a deep blonde. From the back Dorothy must have mistaken her for Angel! Was Dorothy jealous?

"The android?" Violet Web sneered as she turned back to Roger Smith. "The lady friend who is waiting at your table is your android? This is who is more important than my job offer? Why don't you get your priorities straight Mister Smith?"

"It's a good thing that money is no object because after that crack I'm going to have to charge extra," he scolded. If Web had been male he would have punched him out or left right there.

"She's an android…" Web insisted stubbornly.

"Technically I'm a 'gynoid'," Dorothy corrected. "Male anthropomorphic robots are called 'androids' but female ones are called 'gynoids'. I'm female so you refer to me as a 'gynoid' or 'fembot'."

"You'll be 'female' only when you start pumping out babies," Web growled.

"Violet Web," Dorothy said her name as if it was a book title, not as if she was saying a name. "I've read your profile in Who's Who. You are the most powerful woman in Paradigm City. Your estimated age is five decades. You are unmarried, with no children. Does that mean that you aren't female either?"

"Shut up!" Web hissed. The board member was so angry she could barely speak. Her perfectly manicured hands shook as she took out a long cigarette holder from her handbag.

"Cut her some slack Dorothy, she's under a lot of strain," Roger smiled genially. "Apparently her life is in danger."

"If this is the way she talks to strangers I can see why," Dorothy replied. "I'm sorry, Roger. It appears that your time here is strictly professional. I'll get out of your way and let you work." Despite her words she didn't move a servo, but stood at attention like a soldier.

Violet Web lit a cigarette and placed it in her ornate cigarette holder. "Mister Negotiator, are you finished playing games with me?" the most powerful woman in Paradigm City asked irritably.

"Why yes, yes of course," Roger smiled like a guilty schoolboy.

The Paradigm board member took a drag from her cigarette holder while her face expressed skepticism. "I should hope so," she sneered. She glanced over at Dorothy Wayneright who hadn't moved but was emotionlessly observing the flustered woman. "You can go now, don't let me keep you," she said sarcastically as she took another puff.

"Very well," Dorothy curtsied as gracefully as a ballerina. Was she showing off for Roger? "Roger, I shall wait for you at our table."

Suddenly a loud crack exploded like thunder, and Violet Web jerked back in her seat, nearly tipping it over. As she dropped a shattered cigarette holder, she lurched forward and collapsed on the table.

"Miss Web!" Roger sprang from his seat and was at her side. When he pulled her up from the table he saw the blood running out of the collapsed woman's mouth. "What happened to her? Has she been shot?" Her glassy eyes stared uncomprehending as a strange gurgling or rattling sound was heard from her throat. The handsome young negotiator gasped in horror.

Roger closed her eyes and took a step away from the body. He closed his eyes and lowered his head as he clasped his hands.

Dorothy didn't say anything as the restaurant's patrons glanced over and the staff became concerned. She knelt down to pick up the fragments of the shattered cigarette holder. She inspected the ornate cigarette holder, attempting to put the pieces back together and noticed a nearly imperceptible inscription that read 'Euterpe'.

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

Next: Erato