Pandora’s Bust
“Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Agent 13, come forward.”
Pandora screamed. A little man, less than two inches long, crawled out of her vagina. He was wearing a pinstriped suit—drip dry—and was carrying a micro-mini-film recorder. Ben Canaan frowned; Pandora blinked; the police allowed themselves momentary grins. Pandora said, “How did you get inside my dolly?”
The little man boomed out a surprising baritone: “Your dolly!”
Michelangelo said, “Answer the question.”
“Wasn’t too hard, really. Actually, you see, I climbed in two nights ago. Shot her up with a dose of novocaine so she wouldn’t feel anything to wake her up, then I hoisted myself up her legs and squeezed right in.”
“Oh,” said Pandora, “that’s why I felt so funny. Didn’t I tell you, Angelo, that I felt funny yesterday when I woke up?”
The taller policeman picked up the little man, who’d been floundering on the satin sheets, and placed him on the dresser. “Agent 13,” he said. “Councillor Ben Canaan demands we produce the evidence.” Agent 13 held out a miniscule gloved palm. Ben Canaan, peering closely, could see a tiny cylinder, metal, probably lead.
“Angelo?” said Pandora, “Does he have anything?”
“Yes.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Yes. It’s micro-mini-microfilm.”
Agent 13 said, “You got it, Councillor. Micro-mini-microfilm—with each and every ill-timed response of your sweet lady’s body. Took it myself—at no small risk, I’m sure you’ll agree.” As the little man spoke, the taller cop stepped through the doorway into the hall. He returned shortly, platichrome bands looped on his left arm, a heavy staple gun in his right hand.
“Now that Councillor Ben Canaan has seen the evidence,” he began, and his partner joined in, “We charge you, Pandora, with Improper Orgasm, Section 18 of the Sexual Response Act. Now you will come with us.” Ouickly they wrapped her in the bands.
Very perplexed, Pandora looked to Michelangelo, who now fumbled in his clothes, as if to dress quickly and run away “Angelo, why don’t you stop them? They’re hurting me.”
“I can’t touch the Vagina Police,” he mumbled. “I can’t violate the Muskie Doctrine.” Then he smiled an artist fighter smile. “But I can do this!” His hand leaped from his pants pocket, the fingers curled tight around an oblong plate.
“Watch it!” shouted Agent 1. “He’s got–” Too late for the little bug. His voice rose to a screech, spat for a moment, then cut short as his two inch body tipped over the dresser edge and fell to the floor. The tall policemen dropped Pandora; one of them picked up Agent 13, the other pocketed the microfilm.
“I knew it,” cried Ben Canaan, waving the oblong plate. “He’s not human. He’s a machine. See this? It’s a field disrupter Philiplindustries built it for me; it can drain the life from any machine.” He laughed. “Did you think you’d fool Michelangelo Ben Canaan?”
The tall policeman said, “We fail to see the relevance.”
“The relevance!” Ben Canaan nearly jumped over the bed. “He’s a machine.”
“The microfilm remains the same.”
“But a machine–” He cut short; his face opened up a huge grin. “I think I understand.”
Pandora, even now, could not shake the dreamy feeling. She felt chased by some great beast of truth, a menace more frightening somehow than the bands around her chest. She tried to focus on the real danger.
“Angelo, what’s happening? Are you going to get these things off me?”
Ben Canaan ignored her. “Yes, I understand now. You boys haven’t heard yet about Bill 62, right?”
“Please inform us of Bill 62.”
“Bill 62. The 62nd bill of 1971. My bill. It passed the Crown Council yesterday and the king signed it this morning. It reads like this: no machine may testify against a human being. You got that? I’ll say it again. No machine may testify against a human being. And that includes any evidence gathered by a machine. You can take your microfilm and slap it in your scrapbooks. It can’t be used in court.” Now Michelangelo looked over to Pandora, eager for her love and admiration, but found instead that Pandora stared, solemn and quiet, at the two policemen who now stepped forward in unison.
They said, “We think you had best check the wording of your bill, Councillor”
Ben Canaan cocked an eye. “There’s no loopholes. I wrote that bill very craftily. But I can check it for you if you like.” Keeping his eye off Pandora he crossed to the phone and dialed a number.
