The Salesman by Nicky Martin
This story originally appeared in Alien Dimensions Issue #4
Brim Howdy took a deep breath of filtered vacuum dust.
He tripped out of the interstellar vessel, and sank into the asteroid’s coarse gravel. Gazing out, the salesman saw a hazy wasteland, bright and blinding. His visor filtered the raw UV rays.
J-Mining Colony LXIX! An untapped Jovian market! Brim Howdy thought, smiling at the small blessing of a safe arrival. What a good day to move product!
No reason to lose time, Brim thought. He thrusted toward the iron tram car, but his jetpack stalled. The metal briefcase in his hand weighed on his left shoulder, which slumped about 2 inches lower than his right. Lopsided, he sputtered on a looping arc, and crashed right into the sun-shelter. Thankfully, the impact was softened by his oversized, puffy canvas suit. When his arm smashed into the shelter, his suit de-puffed. Then, it re-puffed, filling with oxygen. Brim looked like a burlap sack filled with air.
At least nobody saw his mistake, he thought, struggling to his feet.
The station was empty. Hardly a station at all, really, just a little roof casting a small shadow. Brim adjusted, and held his case with both hands. Howdy’s case was stuffed with the finest, hand-held survival items; unique personal trinkets of great emotion and affect; novelty edibles of alien tastes and textures; as well as cigarettes. Brim’s entire life was tied up in this case.
This time, Brim braced himself and burst up, and landed 20 feet away from the single-occupancy-transportation-vehicle (SOTV). He tip-toed the rest of the way to save fuel.
In only twenty-five minutes, Brim was covered in dust. But a small deterrence! Nothing like the horrors of Ort’s Dust Bog, the splitting-eels, the acid bath…
No! Brim thought, the bad days are behind ol’ Helpful Howdy. He wedged himself inside the SOTV. It was a plain metal box without any screens or buttons. Even through his suit, Brim felt the chill of the seat. When Brim sat down, a voice crackled to life…
“This is J-Mining Colony LXIX—choose your destination. Government; Space Port; Residential” the voice listed off slowly.
“Residential,” Brim replied, then paused with an idea. Let’s show this bot we’re cultured, Brim thought, “Computer, please provide a briefing on the culture, economy, and goings on of J-Mining Colony LXIX”
“Briefing commencing,” said the mechanical voice. Then, in the silky tones of a radio DJ: “J-Mining Colony LXIX is Jupiter’s richest helium mine, a noble gas used to power rock drills, aquarium filters, and balloons. This precious gas is found here in the heart of the rock. Over 100,000 miners are employed on this colony. It is a happy, healthy, prosperous place to live. There are no viruses or carbon shortages. J-Mining Colony LXIX is beloved by all.”
As he listened, Brim looked out at the nothingness of empty craters.
The mines were below the surface. Brim doubted anyone was working inside them—if the mines were active, the ground would be quaking uncontrollably. The asteroid was silent. The dreary dust, settled peacefully on every surface, demonstrated the rock’s deadness.
I wonder if anybody here even has the money to buy stuff? Brim worried. He pushed the thought out of his head: whether the miners worked or not had nothing to do with his job. The salesman focused himself by quietly chanting a positivity manta, “There will be closed sales. There will be sealed deals.”
“Talking is prohibited aboard the STOV,” the mechanical voice cut in.
Brim sat quietly, only occasionally groaning as the transportation box jerked back and forth to a slow stop. The living quarters of this colony seemed to be cavernous black holes carved into the meteor mountain.
“Welcome to Residential Area” said the voice. “Exit the vehicle immediately.”
Brim disembarked. Edging closer to Residential Area’s collection of caves, he saw the transparent orbs pushing against the outside cave walls.
These must be the houses, the ever-observant Brim thought to himself. They were small spheres made of a super-hard polymer. This plastic was pressured against the sides of the rock.
Residential Area itself had no atmosphere, so a spacesuit was required when leaving one’s room. Superficially, the orb houses were completely unconnected from one another. The residents hardly saw their neighbors. Since it took over an hour to put on a space suit, they seldom ventured outside their domes. However, centralized life support systems pumped in air, heat, and a faucet that dispensed nutritional paste. All these amenities came from a subterranean network, so residents were connected without realizing it.
Brim didn’t notice any of that stuff either. He was too busy tripping over his clunky suit, while tip-toeing to his first client’s house. He wanted to avoid using thrusters so he wouldn’t look stupid in front of a (potentially) hot sale, yet Brim looked pretty stupid moving mere centimeters a minute, tripping all the way. The company couldn’t afford to make suits in more than one size, so Brim was caught in a fabric-filled scenario.
After forty-five minutes, he made it to the first house.
Brim immediately noticed that the cave-spheres had no visible doors. He was unsure upon what to knock. He decided that loudly slamming his body against the clear wall was effective as any other method. Repeatedly, he knocked his weight against the plastic walls.
No one heard him.
In the orb’s parlor room, he saw one resident. A woman, probably, sat in a chair with a large, glowing hat on her head. Her shoulders strained from the hat’s weight, and she moved her neck side to side in a painful fashion. The hat had a semi-circle visor that extended past her eyes, obscuring the woman’s face. The visor blinked rainbow-colored lights at random frequencies. The woman’s ears were covered with speaker-muffs obscuring her hearing, with echo-locating surround sound effects.
Pretty nifty machine she’s got, Brim thought. Maybe with the commissions I make on this dump, I’ll buy one for myself!
But, of course, he’s got the perfect mark, and he’s stuck right outside the “door.”
Maybe now was the time to test out some of the merchandise.
Brim opened the case and took out a cylindrical tool. Aiming it toward a meteor, Brim pulled a lever.
KA-BLAMO!
The boom exploded out from the tube, blasting a bright white light in the near distance.
Brim recited aloud to himself, “The perfect tool to alert incoming ships to your presence, or, as we see here, the perfect way to get a pod person to open their door for you. Everybody needs a space flare!”
Brim gazed back inside: the woman didn’t notice; the flare had done nothing.
It seemed like the woman was simulating something fierce on her machine as she moved her hands up and down–she pretended to hold a tool. The woman’s head craned upward for a split second, she smiled, and then her neck collapsed from the weight of the hat.
“She’s a gamer,” Brim said to himself, “I’m sure she’ll enjoy my customizable keychains that feature the likeness of the most popular video simulation avatars.”
Then, a change came over the woman. She was motionless, probably sleeping.
“That’s just great!” Brim shouted, inside his helmet, suddenly frustrated. The Space Intergalactic Commerce Commission (SICC) strictly forbids the sale of any items to a sleeping space colonist. One must first awaken the colonist.
“I might as well just give up!” Brim muttered, his positivity briefly disappearing in the wake of this new development. He peeled himself off the orb’s window/wall. He started tip-toeing toward the next house, when a circular, disc-shaped robot scurried past his feet. The circle moved quickly, even on the uneven ground.
The robot approached the foot of the dome. A small air-locked, doggy door sprung up, revealing a tiny compartment Brim had yet to notice. The robot went inside.
It was time for a split-second decision!
Brim followed it. It’s usually about three seconds for automatic doors to shut, Brim recalled instinctively. He shoved his arm, holding his briefcase, underneath the door. The automatic door slammed shut, crushing his elbow. His suit de-puffed under the door so it didn’t explode. With the outside door (mostly) closed, the robot went into the inside door. As that airlocked door opened, Brim threw his metal case inside.
He fleetingly grasped at the robot as it scurried away.
Well, worth a shot! But now, Brim was stuck.
Brim wasn’t worried. He’d faced this exact situation before. Brim gets stuck all the time–usually on purpose! It’s a good sign, he thought. Now, he’s 16% closer to pitching a sale. Plus, his arm wasn’t broken and Brim could still use it. A common, salesman beginner’s mistake is putting your leg underneath an automatic door. Common sense dictates you use your leg, since it’s bigger, faster, and easier to muscle out so you don’t get truly stuck. But no, you gotta stick the arm in.
Because the secret is: you want to get stuck. If you’re stuck, the resident has to let you out at some point.
Plus, an arm allows, 1) the chance to maneuver the first, space-leading door back open, 2) the ability to knock on that second door leading to the air-locked room, and 3) a quick and agile weapon against any guarding animals or robots.
Believe it or not, most animals find legs more fun to chew on then fingers.
Another lesson Brim took from experience: there’s often a regulation release lever inside the first automatic air-lock door in case your robot gets stuck. Brim found it, pulled it, and watched the door pop back up. He had lost all feeling in his arm, but who needs an arm to crawl inside an air-lock?
He just barely fit as the automatic door closed again. The air-lock shaped him like a gelatinous cube packed densely into aluminum foil. Brim wondered if he would make tasty soup stock…
Brim didn’t have much else to do but wonder about things because now he was fully stuck. That’s 96% of the way to the chance to make a pitch!
After about forty minutes, Howdy’s back ached so badly, he lost consciousness—which is usually a bad thing–but it sure passed time quicker.
Finally, the little disc-bot returned. It repeatedly smashed into Brim’s briefcase, that was blocking its path. Then, a small arm emerged out from the center of the disc-bot. It picked the case up and smashed it into the wall next to it. The dome’s polymer molded around it, absorbing the case as part of the environment.
The disc-bot performed a security-specific spin pattern at the door and opened the inner-airlock. Brim sprawl out, like a spring-loaded snake trapped in a phony peanut brittle can.
Brim fell atop the disc bot. He awoke to it spinning angrily underneath him, ripping the fabric of his space suit with an awful, tearing growl. He was able to stand up before it cut his skin.
The disc-bot bolted between Brim’s legs, positioning itself back into the airlock cubby. Brim felt at the torso of his suit. That’s gonna take a lot of fabra-paste to fix. Thankfully, he wouldn’t need to go outside for a while.
The perfect mark was right in front of him.
He dropped his helmet to the floor with a clank and revealed his masculine, chiseled face, perfectly cropped black hair and firm jawline. He looked like a picture of the perfect man, even his chin cut down to a clef. Brim’s look was designed to make the best first impression on clients. He had the face of a fellow you can trust.
Brim found his briefcase jammed into the wall, tugged at it, and wrenched it free from the occupancy orb’s wall. He brushed it off, and finally, approached the unconscious woman sleeping in front of him.
“Hello, madam!” Brim yelled. The woman still didn’t hear him. It was her stupid face hat. He walked over, pried off the earmuffs, then pulled away her vision visor.
“Hello!” he said.
“Ahhhh!” The woman started screaming uncontrollably.
Sure, Brim realized, waking up with a large man looming over you is disorienting. He let her scream for a while. She didn’t stand up, fight back or even motion for Brim to leave. She just sat in her chair and screamed wildly. The screams weren’t even words, just vowel sounds.
Brim wondered if she lost the facility for speech–this could make the sale trickier…
After a quarter-hour, Brim finally spoke, “Ma’am, I mean you no harm. In fact, I’m here with great news! My name is Brim Howdy and I travel across the galaxy dealing in wares of great use and comfort. I have…”
Brim knew the difference between people trying to ignore him and people successfully ignoring him: this woman was doing the latter. Her screaming took no pause (surprisingly good lung capacity, Brim thought). Whenever Brim spoke, the woman gestured for her virtual reality unit.
“Ah, this?” Brim said, feeling devious. “I can give you this,” dropping the pitch of his voice, “For a price.”
Brim imagined the possibilities: sneaking into every house on this awful rock, taking off the residents’ face-hats and then forcing them to put them back on again. It’s got no overhead! He won’t even lose inventory.
But somehow, it felt wrong. He came here to sell his goods and personal effects, and sell them he must do!
“If you buy something from me, I’ll put your hat back on your face,” Brim told the woman.
She nodded yes.
“Really!” Brim said, thinking, Howdy, you’re a genius.
“I’ve got all kinds of treasures,” Brim explained while opening his briefcase. Inside was a messy pile of trinkets and junk.
“Here’s a popular seller,” Brim pulled out an aerosol can, “…you spray this on your skin, and it flecks away all the dirt and grime. It’s called Bath in a Can.”
The woman stared at Brim.
“No? Alright, well here’s a hot ticket,” Brim pulled out a ring, “This ring tells you whether or not you’re cold. It’s a TempRing.”
The woman started moaning again, pointing toward her virtual reality unit.
“Alright! Alright! You pick! Take a look at what I have here,” he motioned to the whole case, “And tell me what you want.”
“Cig…arettes,” she wheezed.
“Of course!” Brim should have known, everybody wants nicotine, “That will be 50 credits.”
The woman reached into her chair and pulled out a wad of wet plastic. True to his word, Brim picked up the virtual reality helmet for the woman.
“Do you mind if I try this thing out to see what all the fuss is about?” Brim asked. The woman began to scream immediately. He put the visor on anyway, justifying it as market research.
Brim was transported into a world much like the one he just left. The headset displayed an asteroid mine; the rocks around him were grey and jagged, but not yet tapped. Brim was a miner, holding a nuclear-powered drill. He chipped away at the virtual wall next to him. The drill crunched the rocks and a straw absorbed the precious, emitted gases.
“This is boring,” Brim said aloud. He couldn’t hear the woman’s reaction. This must be the only thing to do on J-Mining Colony LXIX since the actual mine dried up. How depressing!
These people really needed some gadgets to take their mind off things. Brim felt like he was doing a very sacred service.
Brim put the virtual reality headset back on the woman’s face-head. Her screams were quelled instantly. Finally at peace, she mined her fake rocks again. The only difference, Brim noticed proudly, is now she smoked cigarettes while mining.
“My work is done here,” Brim said aloud, then remembering he couldn’t leave until he fixed his space suit. He started exploring the house, feeling confident the woman wouldn’t mind. He walked down a small hallway and heard a noise.
A quiet clacking echoed from the orb’s dark, second room. Brim investigated. Inside sat a young, teenage boy.
“Hello there, son!” Brim announced, thinking about the potential double-sale that lay before him. “I have wonderful wares of marvelous proportions…”
The child wasn’t listening. Unlike his mother, he wasn’t wearing a headset but he was using a computer. A keyboard floated in front of the teen; he wore a chest plate, with two shoulder pads that looked like video cameras. The boy’s hands fluttered across the keys.
Brim continued, “…these items will make you popular in school! The envy of all your peers! Some might even lure home a wayward father! Best yet, it…” The salesman stopped abruptly. He noticed the lights in the dome dimming.
“Hmm…” he said, suddenly getting the feeling that something was wrong here. He began to slowly back away from the child. Perhaps the boy already had the devices he needed most, he justified. No need to sell him any others!
Out of the darkness, a monstrous panther leapt at Brim.
The panther looked to weigh four tons, its matted black fur reflected the glint of the teenager’s computer screen in the near-darkness. Brim didn’t even have time to scream before the panther pushed him against the wall. He smelled the beast’s moist, hungry breath: its long tusks didn’t fit in the beast’s mouth. I thought this was a panther? Is it a sabertooth tiger?
The beast roared!
From its mouth emerged a swarm of wasps, spraying Brim right in the face. Brim had never seen bees before, but he had read about them in books. They stung him just as badly as he imagined, swatting his face, slapping himself, smashing into the walls around him. Brim tried to scream, but he was wearing a mask of bees!
Then, the teenager arose from his chair and edged closer to the salesman. With a flicker of his fingers, the shoulder pads on his shoulders projected a new image. A small gun shot a dart into Brim’s hand.
Brim watched the bees scab together off his face, onto his hand and became a terrifying scorpion! It stung him repeatedly with its poison tail, barbing into him, infecting him with poison!
He ran into the pod’s hallway, the poison burning through his system. He had to cover the pain, get rid of the bug. What could he do?
Brim found the food faucet in what looked to be a kitchen. Better drowning the bug in food paste! Come on! Come on! The paste glooped out of the pipe too slowly, the bug simply climbed up Brim’s arm, then walked back to his hand when the food came out!
Brim knew drastic measures were in order, so he put his hand in the frame of the kitchen entrance, and smashed it repeatedly by slamming the close button on the automatic door. His eyes rolled back in his head as the door crushed the skin, sutures, and polymers that made up the Brim Howdy’s bones. The hand finally broke off, exposing the wires and electrical currents powering the Brim Howdy inside.
The teenager snickered at the damage he’d caused. The robot’s sensory regulation mechanisms were totally fried. With another tossed off command, he controlled the simulation on his mother’s VR rig.
Instead of ignoring Brim, the woman finally recognized the twiddling robot as a threat, at least, within her simulation. He appeared as a metal menace, threatening her precious virtual mine!
She looked up from the virtual blocks and turned her attention to the crazed cyborg in her mine. She lifted the pickaxe over her shoulders and stalked the cyber-man, ready to smash his head with her nuclear drill.
Free from his scorpion infested hand, Brim made a break for it. He left his briefcase in the teenager’s room (so he’d probably get deactivated even if he made it back to base), but he wouldn’t be going back for it. Anything would be preferable to getting eaten by bee-vomiting saber-toothed panthers!
As Brim ran back to the room with the air-lock and the woman, she smashed into him, repeatedly punching his head.
Brim shook her off but felt a puncture in the back of his neck. It felt like a burrowing worm, but really it was just a final dart. Brim was infected now, crawling with maggots and teeming with worms. The woman could sense it; she backed away.
Brim’s emergency systems started firing at full blast. His vision tinted red. A countdown timer appeared in the corner of his field of vision.
Howdy needed to get out of this haunted cave! His worst fears realized, he was being eaten alive by nightmarish lifeforms!
But wait. What? He was a robot?
The seriousness of it all crashed down upon him. He shoved himself into the airlock, shutting the orb house door behind him, waiting for the isolating cold of space to take him back to safety.
Sitting in the small room, he frantically looked for the lever.
EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN IN 200 SECONDS, white lettering blared through Brim’s eyes.
Where’s the lever? It felt like the most important thing in the universe at that moment.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
Brim had never repaired the rips on his suit’s stomach, let alone put his helmet on, so when he found the rod, he activated it without thinking, completely overwhelmed with the robot revelation. He tumbled from the airlock and quickly froze.
He was dead only three minutes later.
#
Later, the Howdy Corporation retrieved the Brim Howdy body. Logs confirmed the perception sensors were online until the very end.
A software engineer was fired for making the robot too lifelike, and the last Brim Howdy salesman was melted for parts.