I got it down to two scenes. The first is all new and the second has a few changes where Naomi is explaining its new idea. Comments please.

Not What We're Looking For

by Dave Krenitsky

 

Jim walked into the bar and spotted an empty stool. Christ, if I started a story with that line the slush reader would stop right there. As he got closer he could see that sitting next to it was the editor from the panel he had attended that afternoon, the same editor who had rejected his story for being too dark.

"This seat taken?"

"No, please," she said. She turned to him and smiled. "You're the young man from the AIs in fiction panel this afternoon. You asked some insightful questions."

"You looking for me to buy you a drink?"

She laughed, "You're too young to buy even my daughter a drink." She nodded to the bartender and motioned for a refill. "I liked the discussion we had. I want to encourage you to send in some stories to our mag."

"Mag?"

"I've been in this business a long time. Paper or bits they're still mags to me."

The bartender walked over and refilled her glass. "And you?" he asked Stan.

"I'll have what she's having."

"That's Ms Uhumbo's private supply. I do have a nice 12 year old hand crafted bourbon. It is $75 a shot?"

"Uh, just a beer thanks." He turned to the woman. "I've sent in several stories. You've rejected them all."

She looked at his name tag. "I've never read anything from you."

"Well, some Naomi rejected them, saying that they are too dark and the AIs too malevolent."

"We don't have a Naomi working at the mag. And I want dark. All I've been getting for the last two years is sweetness and light AI stories and evil alien stories. Good stories but I would like to mix it up a bit." She drained her drink and looked into the bottom of the glass. "I used to be able to do this all night and run a panel in the morning. Now two of these and I have trouble getting my key card into the slot." She opened her purse and dropped a twenty on the bar. "For you Jim and for you Stan here's my card. Send me your latest. Hope to hear from you."

She slipped off the bar stool and walked briskly away on four inch heals. Stan could detect no wobble or hesitation in her stride.

The bartender came over and slid the bill into his apron. He placed a beer in front of Stan. "Good talk?"

"She or someone in her ezine has rejected every story I've submitted." He picked up the business card. The email address had a private domain. He pulled a laptop from his bag and entered the new address. In seconds his story was on its way. "I'm feeling good, Jim, was it. Well, Jim, Give me some good stuff." Stan pulled a twenty from his wallet and slid it across the bar.

"Twenty will get you 'good' stuff." Jim pulled a bottle from the top shelf. "Ice?" he asked and dropped a few cubes into the glass after Stan nodded. Traffic in the bar was light and Stan nursed his drink until last call. As he stood to leave the laptop chimed to indicate an incoming email. It was a rejection from Naomi. The same "not what we're looking for" letter that he had received before.

#

The door in front of Major Rumpole clicked open and he paused to pick up his ID badge from the sergeant.

"Got a new girl friend, major?" the sergeant asked smiling.

The major looked at the sergeant.

"The DNA scanner picked up some female DNA. It doesn't match any of the women employed here nor does it have any family markers that match you."

"When did they add that?"

"While you were on leave. Have a nice day," he saluted.

The major shook his head and entered the monitoring control room. "Know what they're doing now? That DNA scanner is sensitive enough to pick up DNA of people you were with. Kind of intrusive if you ask me."

"Says the man who developed the system that reads every e-mail in the US and most of the rest of the world."

"Point is, the system reads them and only alerts us to those that pose a threat. Speaking of which how is it doing?"

"Humming away. That autonomous routine got very efficient after you gave it the capability to self modify its code."

"After six months of eighteen hour days I needed a break." He sat at the next terminal and logged in. The National Autonomous Online Monitoring Intelligence responded quickly.

"Good morning Major. I hope you had a pleasant vacation."

"Indeed I did NAOMI. Anything new?"

"You had me monitoring the internet, emails and texts for people trying to influence others to do bad things, to accept bad ideas. Some of those can be quite subtle. Presenting a good idea as evil is in the same category."

"Interesting," the major responded, "Have you found any examples of that?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Major. Nothing I can't handle."