Vandermeer looked from Michael to me, and back to Michael before he sighed.

“So you are telling me that Enki has cracked the century-old dream of creating the mystical replicator? How?”

Michael smiled sweetly while he answered:

“No, not Enki. Vivian made that happen before we even had the idea for Enki. Hell, she almost had it working in Seattle. And the how… forgive me when I say that we will keep that little gem to ourselves for now.

Nothing personal, but we want to have patent protection for it before we tell anybody how it works. It is so simple and logical that it would be way too easy to steal the show.”

Then his face suddenly became serious.

“Next week we will reveal it all, and we have already decided to license it to most other corporations. With a handful of corps that we find unsavory. We are considering licensing Vandermeer the whole package though. Including the tech necessary to make grav coils. And other goodies.”

I frowned at that. Yes, he was technically right, we were considering it. But it was more a ‘maybe we could’ level of considering instead of a ‘we should unless there is a reason not to’.

“Uhm… Michael, do you really think we should talk about that now?”

He shook his head.

“Vivian, we have started negotiations for a close alliance with Vandermeer. That alone makes the idea of giving them the whole package much more likely. Likely enough to start talking about it.”

Vandermeer looked from Michael to me, and back, raising his left eyebrow.

“Do I understand that right that you won’t provide that specific technology to anybody else?”

I shrugged.

“My last stand was that we would not even consider admitting that there was a difference between a standard NADA and one that is capable to make grav coils. Much less reveal how it is done.”

Michael smiled at Vandermeer.

“She is right, you even knowing that there is a difference puts you ahead. For the rest, we will let them try, but as Vivian said, there is a trick to it. Not that even knowing about the trick will do them any good in that regard.”

When Vandermeer tilted his head confused, Michael elaborated.

“Enki knows the trick. We have a few dozen scientists and engineers who have been thoroughly instructed. And not one of them could create a new grav coil.”

That made me frown.

“That can’t be right. I did not create all the new grav coils and gravity constructs we have. Most of them, yes. Mostly because we are only in the beginning, but that will change.”

Michael snorted.

“Viv, you think too much of other people sometimes. Our engineers get an idea and can design the parameters for what the coils or the construct should do, and then they give that to Warden and she gives them the full design back.”

And I had to frown harder.

“But that is not that different from how I do it. The math is simply too complicated. I would waste days, in real-time, to calculate a single grav coil.”

And Michael shook his head.

“First, you would waste days. That means you could actually do it. Second, you use Warden to finalize the details of the coils, but you create the basic design by yourself. And third, you still do things with grav coils that Warden can’t do. Not a single point of those three is true for anybody else.

You create a new conveyor, calculate the necessary strength of the grav coils in the appropriate positions to get the needed performance, and then use Warden to calculate the exact design of the coils. All our other engineers calculate the needed performance of the conveyor and let Warden do the rest.”

Vandermeer shook his head.

“So, to get this right, without Warden, nobody could do it?”

“Nobody but Vivian, yes. And before you ask, no, we will not spin off an expert system or even a VI to do that. With this functionality resting solely in Warden, nobody can… acquire it. And with Warden effectively being a rogue VI, nobody can take control of her.”

“So, even if the other corporations manage to get their hands on a NADA that can make grav coils, they can only do what is already released. I understand.”

I still did not understand what made me better than the other scientists and engineers, but I just shrugged and let it go.

“But, if it is only Warden that makes it possible to create new coil configurations, and if we give Vandermeer the full NADA tech, won’t we have to give them access to Warden as well?”

Michael shook his head.

“Not directly. Keep in mind that Warden only helps us because Enki mostly belongs to you. So unfortunately they have to request new designs from us.”

Vandermeer rubbed his chin.

“Even then, if I understand you right this is still lightyears ahead of anybody else. I assume you will have to begin planning an orbital factory when ABAS begins to seriously use your coils. That will catapult you to double A status for certain.”

Ben pressed me a bit harder into him when he interjected:

“That is all nice and well but that’s enough with the business talk. This is not the time and place for that.”

Michael frowned:

“What do you mean?”

Ben sighed before he answered:

“We are here to give Vivian something she never had. To celebrate her birthday. To celebrate her. Don’t make it into another business meeting and dilute it, please.”

Michael’s eyes widened and Vandermeer suddenly became solemn.

“Yes, you are right. We have enough time in the next week to talk business.”

I turned my head to look had Ben.

“Why does business talk not fit in today?”

Ben smiled mildly.

“Because this is your birthday. We have this party to give you a bit of fun. And frankly, a birthday party is no place for business talk at all. That has nothing to do with you specifically. It just is not that type of party.”

“Oh… ok.” Not that I understood what he was trying to say. But I had learned that some things I simply would not get, and any attempt at explaining it to me was an exercise in futility, costing time, energy, and patience, and depressed the mood.

Sometimes I still tried to understand, and on a scand few occasions, I actually understood it, after some long, grueling explaining. But I’d learned to be very careful when I dug deeper, lest I indeed get an answer. And this was one of those times. It simply was not worth it to me to ruin everybody’s fun just to get an explanation that I would likely not understand anyway.

The resignation flashing briefly through Ben’s eyes told me that he understood full well, but let it go as well. Still, for a moment, all of us just stood around awkwardly saying nothing.

Fortunately, not for long. An android rolled in quite a big cake, with several candles on top of it. And yes, it was exactly 19 candles. I might be clueless about some things, but this tradition has been so deeply etched into our culture and pop culture that even I knew about birthday cakes, the ritual of the celebrant blowing out the candles.

I just had never expected to experience it myself, much less as the celebrant in question.

And so, under great fanfare, I was led to the cake and proceeded to blow out the candles. I have to say the cake was pretty good. I was a bit confused for a moment because honestly, it was way too big for any of our ovens, but I assumed that one of the others had organized a bigger oven.

Then I was informed that it was time for presents. I was softly pushed into a waiting chair, while the others one by one vanished for a moment only to reappear with gaudily wrapped packets in their hand.

Not everybody of course. Neither Burke and his crew, nor the scientists from Nowhere took part in it.

Still, I could not help myself and become a bit curious.

First was Darren, who was surrounded by Ryan, Christine, Justin, Natalie, Jacky, Kate, and Mark. He placed a slender, oblong package on the table in front of me, with the words:

“You know, it is damned hard to find a present for somebody who can afford everything. But I think we managed just fine.”

I began to carefully remove the adhesive tape keeping the wrapping paper in place. Apparently, that was not the right method of opening a present, as I was cajoled by several of the people here to ‘simply rip it off’.

After a moment of confusion, I just shrugged and did exactly that. Inside was a big case with a handle. When I opened it, I found an electric guitar inside. It looked well-used but also well-loved. Obviously an antique, and seemingly made from real wood.

It was, of course, not tuned. In fact, the strings were not tensioned at all and hung loosely above the neck.

It was a beautiful piece, not gonna lie here, but it came something out of nowhere. I caught myself softly caressing the body without intention, when I looked at Darren.

“This is… beautiful, thank you, but… this is an antique, is it not?”

Darren snorted: “And then some. It took us a bit of searching, but this is a Red Special. Well, the guy who sold it to us said it is the Red Special, but honestly, that is unlikely. But this is an authentic 20th-century reproduction. Real Mahogany.”

I looked at the guitar, and back at my friends.

“How? How could you afford this?”

Darren chuckled.

“I won’t insult you by telling you how much, but first, every one of us gave a bit, and two, you are aware that we are among the better-earning mercenaries by now? And thanks to you letting us live here and giving us access to all your toys we have barely any costs. So yes, we could afford it easily.

Finding it… that was less easy.”

I carefully took the guitar out of its case and inspected it. It was a beautiful instrument. After I had placed it back into the case, and closed it, I jumped up and hugged each of them, thanking them profoundly, while they all laughed.

Strangely, Michael barely could contain his laughter, and when he placed a significantly smaller package in front of me, he was still grinning ear to ear.

This time I abandoned the careful approach immediately and ripped the paper off. In it, I found another case, and when I opened it, I found another instrument.

Michael laughed again and explained: “This is pure coincidence. I had no clue those goofs would get the idea for an instrument.”

I carefully caressed the violin. Again, an obvious antique, made from wood.

When I began to grip its neck, Michael softly said:

“Be careful, this is a Stradivari. It is really old.”

I stopped mid-motion, looking at the violin in shock.

“A… Stradivari? How? And why? Do you have any idea what those things cost? And I can barely play the violin.”

Michael chuckled again:

“You are aware that I get around one percent of the profit of Enki? I don’t know if you realize, but lately, that is more than a million per day. And that is in addition to my princely salary, mind you. So yes, I can afford it.

And you barely being able to play… you will learn. You are already better than most hobbyists and are approaching professional levels. In a month, you will be worthy of this instrument.”

The Enki delegation gave me mostly pretty and interesting trinkets. Nothing spectacular, but it showed sentiment, and that’s what counted.

Doc Schaeffer gave me three books. Old books, made from paper. They were antique medical texts. Early 20th century if I was not mistaken. Beautiful books. Of course completely outdated in terms of their content, but as an object of history… beautiful.

Then it was Vandermeer’s turn.

“I have to confess, I had to resort to asking young Mr. Walker here for advice on what to gift you. I hope he was right.”

Ok, way to deflect any blame beforehand, but he said it so earnestly, that I was sure he was honest with it.

The wrapping was… less gaudy this time, more dignified. When I opened it up, I was first confronted with some diaphanous white silk, that was wrapped loosely around the actual object. Shoving it to a side, I found something that, had this present come from anybody else, I would have assumed was synth leather. But… not from Vandermeer.

Carefully taking it out of the package, and the silk wrapping, I saw that it was a green jacket. Jade green I think.

It also seemed to be my size, no surprise here.

I looked at Vandermeer questioningly.

“Is that real leather?”

Vandermeer smiled and nodded.

“Yes, stomper calv leather to be exact. The lining is carbon nanotube weave, with several layers of graphene.”

I gasped when he said stomper calv. Stompers were initially planned as a bioweapon. The South American genetic engineers tried to create the most devastating creature they could think of.

To do that, they spliced Polar bear DNA with Orca DNA and mixed all that with Honey Badger and to cap it off they included African Elephant into the mix. The result was indeed a monster. It takes anti-tank weapons to harm it. They were strong, tenacious, fearless, intelligent, and only slightly smaller than the Elephant the scientists used.

The only saving grace of this monstrosity was that they were a bit too smart, according to their inventors. They realized quickly that in an active war zone, there are quite a few weapons that can harm them, and they vanished into the wilderness.

Nowadays they were the most dangerous creatures in the death lands. The thing is, while the skin of adults is stiff and barely usable, the skin of calves is soft, supple, and very trendy for high society.

Unfortunately, Stompers have inherited all their parental instincts from their original species, with the difference that males don’t hunt their own offspring, and instead protect them fiercly. That meant of course, that for every successful Stomper hunt, there are two or three expeditions that simply vanish.

And that in turn makes stomper calv leather astronomically expensive. Oh, not quite on the level of a Stradivarius expensive, but getting up there.

I turned the jacket around, finding that it had a double line of gold-colored buttons and a zipper, also golden. It had two pockets on each side and a wide collar.

I assumed it was very stylish, but to be honest, my taste-challenged style left me badly unprepared for this. Still, I liked it and slipped it on.

Yes, it was way too hot for the comfortably heated room, but I had to at least try it on. It fit perfectly, not that I expected something different. And it was very comfy. I discovered that it had an inside pocket on each side.

I professed that I liked it, but then I took it off before I suffered a heat stroke.

When Ben made a motion to put his present on the table, he had insisted to go last for some reason, Vandermeer held up a hand.

“I have another thing. Just a moment.”

And he fished a data crystal out of his pocket, holding it out to me.

“I would suggest you watch it in private, but I could not withhold it from you. Have fun with it.”

Ben looked at the crystal somewhat amused, but when Vandermeer stepped to the side, he very carefully placed the gift onto the table. It was only then that I realized that the package had many small holes, and it had no wrapping. It was just held together with a silk band bound into a bow.

When I moved to grab it, Ben softly touched my arm.

“Here it would be better if you are careful and slow.”

I looked at him somewhat confused, and I noticed I was not alone in that, but then I shrugged and carefully opened the bow.

When I began to open the top of the package, a soft, rumbling sound emerged from it, and I withdrew my hand startled.

When I looked questioningly at Ben, he smiled:

“That is normal. Don’t worry.”

I then tentatively lifted the top off the package only to be greeted by another strange sound:

“Mreow!” Followed by a small, furry head peaking out of the plasfilm-carton.

Emerald green eyes looked into my own, and another “Mreow!” followed by a much intensified rumbling emerged.

A couple of paws appeared on the lip of the carton, the animal made several attempts on climbing out of it.

I just sat there, shocked, looking at the small, orange, furry being that tried to get to me.

Finally, Ben said:

“You can take her out of it. She is harmless.”

Very timidly, I reached into the carton, and almost immediately, some tiny claws pierced the fabric of my shirt, and even pricked my skin. Then I had the creature in what I hoped secure grip and lifted it out of the carton.

I then looked at Ben.

“That is… that is… “

“A kitten, yes. I could not have my Kitten not have a kitten, could I?”

“What… what will I do with a cat? I… I have no idea how to take care of it.”

Ben sat down next to me and softly petted the kitten.

“Don’t worry, I looked into it. This race is very easy to take care of. And very very cuddly.”

The kitten was meanwhile wriggling in my grip, and finally broke free, landing in my lap, where it rolled itself into a ring and the rumbling intensified even more.

Ben chuckled softly.

“It is customary to pet a cat, you know?”

That shook me out of my stupor, and I slowly and softly reached out to the kitten. When I touched it, the soft fur felt warm under my fingers.

Faltering at first, but more secure with each stroke, I caressed the sinuous body, and the rumbling filled the whole room.

I looked up at Ben.

“But… where does one even get a cat? I thought they were nearly extinct.”

Ben smiled.

“There are many gene banks where their genetic data is stored. Along with many other animals. I had her cloned. And yes, they’ve nearly gone extinct. Unfortunately, cats are obligatory carnivores. Unlike dogs, which have gotten rare, they can’t be fed with a food replicator. And real meat was unaffordable for anybody but the very rich.”

He tilted his head, and smiled even wider:

“But I happen to know that somebody recently changed that. Is that not nice?”

The still unnamed cat used that moment to try to play. At least I think she tried to play. Unfortunately, it manifested in her biting heartily into my finger.

“Ouch!”