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Ray would've preferred to make this drive with Ecto, but the guys needed her too much back in New York. He's therefore rented a car on the State Department's budget for the sake of getting to Port St. Helena, Oregon, without having to deal with some of the nimrods at the airlines and Amtrak. Said nimrods have an issue with the contents of the passenger seat.

"Okay, Jhalak," Ray says to said contents. "Welcome to Boise, Idaho. We're gonna stop here for the night, if you don't mind. I know it's been tough being stuck in the car and all." Mind you, he's made a point of buying several reference books at any bookstore in each of the towns where they've stopped, along with a big honking quantity of fresh fruit. But still.

Comments

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The bellhop wiggles his fingers back, eyes wide. Ray, in a rare moment of realizing what's going on inside another human's head, doubles his tip. It doesn't stop the bellhop from bolting, but enh, Ray tried. He looks ruefully at Jhalak. "Some people are going to be like that," he says. "I'm sorry."

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"Some people are going to be like that," it echoes, mimicking his rueful tones.

A moment later, however, it has darted forward and absconded with the fruit tray back to the floor in front of its armchair, whereon it starts feeding bits of melon to its undermouth.



Someone's gonna have to tell the kid about carpet and food and how the two don't mix.

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"Hey, could you do that on the table, please?" Ray says. "The fruit juice gets all over the floor, and then it gets messy."

He'll come over and adjust the relative positions of Jotok and fruit and tray by hand, if necessary.

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Jhalak considers the positions of itself, the fruit, the tray, and the table.

Some very inventive legwork (armwork?) later, it is perched obediently and docilely on the flat surface, still getting fruit juice everywhere but at least now for a definition of 'everywhere' that's easily cleaned.

"On the table," it declares. "Fruit juice gets all over and then it gets messy."

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"Thank you," says Ray. "We'll wipe up when you're done." He himself got a burger; they're usually pretty reliable, and anyway it's an excuse for the local potato industry to go all-out on the French fries. This is Idaho, after all.

There'll be a knock at the door sometime when both of them are close to finished eating.

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"Melon," says Jhalak, tucking the last morsel under its mouth. "Approve applaud admire. That's right."

At the knock, three eyes swivel to focus on the door, with interest.

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Ray holds up a hand in an 'I'll get that' gesture and heads for the door. "Who's there?" he calls.

"Dr. Stantz?" says an unfamiliar noise from the other side of the door. "My name's Pete Stoppard. I'm from Night Moves. Can I come in?"

Ray glances over at Jhalak questioningly.

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"Who's there?" it inquires. "Come in. Okay. That's right."

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The man who enters the room when Ray opens the door is a little shorter than Ray, and a good twenty or thirty visible years older- somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. He's thin, balding, and has a mustache, and he's dressed a little more slickly than one might expect for this time of day. "Hey there, Dr. Stantz," he says, holding out a hand for the shaking. "Listen, I'm real sorry to disturb you, but the young lady at the front desk called me and said you were in town, so I thought-"

He stops before Ray can interrupt him; he's staring at Jhalak.

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"Hey there," echoes Jhalak, waving one five-thumbed hand in cheery welcome. Four of its eyes are focused on the man, now; the fifth is still looking at Ray.

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Ray's a little tense, because a) stranger in the room and b) possible bad response. It is, however, likely that he shouldn't have worried. "Well, I'll be damned," says Stoppard slowly, scratching his head. "What's your name, little feller?"

"... that's new," Ray says to nobody in particular.

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"Name Jhalak!" says Jhalak.

Also: "I'll be damned! Holy cats!"

It likes these new additions to its rapidly expanding vocabulary!

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Ray covers his face with one hand. Stoppard? Just laughs. "Whaddya know. Hey, Dr. Stantz? Is this guy for real, or did you build a robot version of a Jotok?"

"... what?"

"This here's a Jotok- you read Larry Niven, right? The papers all say you're a hell of a geek..."

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"Jotok." "What?" "Hell of a geek." "That's new." "Is this guy for real?"

Jhalak scampers closer, curiously, using the armchair as a kind of springboard from which to attain its favoured perch on Ray's shoulder.

Two limbs reach out experimentally in Stoppard's direction.

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"Ah ah ah, don't touch the hair," says Stoppard. "I don't have that much to start with."

Ray blinks a few more times before murmuring something encouraging to Jhalak, then saying, "Um. Jhalak's real. I found her in a bar a while ago and she's stuck with me ever since."

"Heh. Leave it to a Ghostbuster to pick up an alien in a bar..." Stoppard shakes his head. "Nah, this isn't a 'she', it's more of an 'it'. What you've got here's sort of a... kind of a group organism. Wish I could tell you more, but it's been years since I read that story."

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"Don't touch the hair," Jhalak repeats obediently, retracting its hands. "Jhalak's real. Found her in a bar a while ago and she's stuck with me ever since." "Group organism." "More of an it." "That's right."

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"Hey, does this mean there's Kzinti running around out there too?" says Stoppard suddenly. "'Cause these guys used to hire them as mercenaries-"

"No, I'm pretty sure Jhalak's the only one of the species to end up here," Ray says. "We're the wrong universe. Trust me on this."

"Well, okay," Stoppard says, though his tone is doubtful. "If you say so."

"I do say so," says Ray. "Now, if you don't mind my asking-"

"Oh! Right, yeah, I'm sorry, Dr. Stantz. Here I am yacking about aliens when you're only gonna be in town for the one night. I was gonna ask you if you'd mind coming down to Night Moves and checking the place out, because the hauntings're starting to get really bad..."

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Jhalak makes cheerful repetitions of some of this exchange, which is its way of listening intently.

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"I didn't bring any of my equipment with me," Ray says. "Except the PKE meter."

"Aw, that'll be fine," says Stoppard. "We just wanna be able to prove it's haunted for real, and not some kind of problem with the wiring or the pipes or something. It's getting kind of hard to get the girls to stick around more than a month or two."

"Oh, it's a restaurant?"

"Nah." Stoppard smiles. "Titty bar."

... at least he's honest?

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"Titty bar," repeats Jhalak with uncomprehending enthusiasm.

...whoops.

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Yeeeeeah.

"Uh," says Ray, and then glances at Jhalak. "You don't need to go repeating that kind of thing in front of people, okay, kiddo?"

"Whoops," says Stoppard. "Still pickin' up the language, huh?"

"Yeah, she is," Ray says resignedly.

"Sorry, Dr. Stantz. I should've known. I'll tell the girls to watch their mouths when you come down, how about that?"

"Well, I-"

"Thanks!" says Stoppard, and claps Ray on the non-occupied shoulder with a grin.

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"Don't need to go repeating that kind of thing in front of people." "Okay kiddo." "Uh." "Well." "You don't need to go repeating that."

...whether or not this is actually a promise, or at least an acknowledgement, is a little hard to tell.

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Stoppard laughs and hands over a business card before slipping out the door. Ray glances sidelong at Jhalak. "Well," he says. "Looks like we're going to be busy tonight after all. What do you think?"

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"What do you think?" "Looks like we're going to be busy tonight." "That's right." "Titty bar!"

It manages to look contrite after that last one. Something about the angle of the arms and the stillness of the thumbs.

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"... I will give you five kiwifruits if you don't say that again."