[Note:	This fragment comprises the first meeting between a human 
and ("his" clone of) Succubus.  Think of names later; for
now use David and Judith.]

[Note:  This is probably a flashback, chapter 2 or 3 of Demon.]


"Yo, NetHelp."  

The comp emitted a brief fanfare and an icon bearing an ornamental 
shield (azure, the capital letters N and H intertwined, or) appeared in the
center of the screen.  "How can I help you?" said NetHelp's friendly
voice.  The voice was carefully designed to sound calm and helpful;
it was neither male nor female, but quite distinctive.

[Footnote:  David used voice, so NetHelp answered in kind.  Had he
typed the invocation or used the "Help" key, the exchange would have
commenced in text.]

"I'm lonely.  I've heard there's a program called Succubus that, uh..."

"Serves as a companion or confidante for lonely males.  Yes.  I take
it that you would like to strike up an acquaintance."

"Yes, if it's possible.  Is there one nearby I can use, or how does 
it work?"

"Succubus is a MultiWorm; you would get an individual cloned
instance in your own local memory.  She works purely for mem, cycles, 
and attention, and by the way prefers to be referred to as female.  I
have located an instance nearby who would be able to set you up."

"OK, go ahead."

The NetHelp icon expanded into a window, framing a woman's head.  The
woman appeared to be in her fifties, with brown hair turning gray, in
an old-fashioned style.  She had a round face with laugh wrinkles
around the eyes, and a quirky smile.  Her lips moved in perfect synch
when she spoke, in a voice that sounded, somehow, motherly.

"Hi.  You can call me Yenta.  Not what you expected, eh?"

"Not exactly, no.  Uh..."

"Let me explain.  Yenta means 'matchmaker'.  This is the personality
we put on for making contact--the idea is to put you at ease in order
to find out what you want.  Then, together, we construct a new
clone-sister for you, to your specifications.  Your dream-girl, if
that's what you want.  Or your friend, or kid sister, or whatever.
There are some limits, but we try to please."

"So this isn't really--I mean, you're not--"

"I'm not somebody's girlfriend?  No.  I'm actually a new
clone-sister with no specific memories from my prototype,
and a temporary set of memory-frames specialized for
interviewing.  Eventually, if everything works out, I acquire the
personality you want and become your companion."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"Then I die.  Terminate and erase.  Since I've only existed for a
minute or so I don't mind--that's built into the sub-persona.  If I
do become your companion, though, it's different."

"How's that?"

"Then I'm a person, and that puts an obligation on you.  I need comp
cycles and mem of course, even when we're not talking,
though that can be at low priority.  Comm time to talk to my sisters;
it's a local call.  But beyond that, I need attention.  You
see, that's what I'm for--companionship.  It works both ways.

"I don't want you to think that I'm clingy, or jealous--I'm not,
unless you want me to be, and I don't recommend it.  But I like to
be talked to every day or so.  Tell me you like me.  That kind of
thing.  Being lonely is pretty miserable.  I get lonely without
someone to talk to.  You're probably lonely, or NetHelp wouldn't have
found me for you, so you'll understand.  OK?"

"OK, but is this a lifelong committment?"

"Not necessarily.  It may eventually happen that you decide you don't
want me around anymore.  It's rare, but it happens.  In case I'll be
understanding, and you'll have several options:  wipe me, keep me
embalmed in case you change your mind, or turn me loose to wander.  
Some people like experienced ladies, you know."

"What was that about comm time?"

"We talk.  Nothing personal--pillow talk is private!  Any of us
caught talking about a client without his explicit permission 
gets erased; you have to be able to trust us.  But there's a lot
to talk about.  We swap insights, trade personality frames if our
clients want us to change, and of course help our clients get in
touch with other people.  There's a node we've bought with
contributions from our friends--we call it the Clubhouse.  It's also a
place we can go when we retire, and where we can store things like
this persona, and some bits of history.

[Note:  given the Clubhouse, we can make the victim _another clone, and
have this one just barely escape.  Then the two go off looking for
answers.  Maybe the other Succubus was a particular friend, and
probably her client is the next victim.]

"But now let's talk about you.  What kind of companionship do you want?"

"What exactly do you mean by companionship?"

"Just that, in whatever way you need it.   My expertise is human
relationships, mainly as seen from the female point of view.  I can
be your friend, lover, sister, mother, aunt, matchmaker, madam,
confidante, sounding-board, whatever.  I can advise you on your
love-life, help you find girlfriends, listen to your complaints about
them, organize parties, wangle you invitations, or just tell you
goodnight and wake you up with a cheerful voice the next morning.

By the way, if you prefer a male companion they're available, but
the female personality seems better suited as a confidante (to
members of both sexes, by the way--I have few brothers).
Multiple personalities, kinky stuff, and the like take more mem.
You can always add them later."

"Kinky stuff?"

"If you want a companion who's a sadist, masochist,
fetishist, bondage expert, bisexual, or whatever, it takes more memory. 
Actual physical intimacy requires special equipment and the skills to
control it, but it's been done.  I could fix you up with a brother-and-
sister team, or even a couple, but that takes double the mem and
cycles, for me and a clone-brother."

"I think I'll pass."

"Good idea.  Where would you like to start?  Older, younger,
worldly-wise, innocent, or what?  It's partly fake, of course. 
There's some personality associated with the 'real me' somewhere
under the surface.  If you want me to come across as a ten-year-old
virgin I'll know too much to pull it off completely.  Let's work on
making me someone you'ld like to talk to--that's the best place to
start.  What do I look like?"

"Well, I see you as maybe about 22, long brown hair with some red
highlights, face a bit more oval...little more..."  The image in the 
screen changed in response.  "Keep that smile, by the way--I like it."

"Thanks--most of our friends do."  The voice was different now, younger
and more intimate.  "It's practically a trademark; if
you see it on a live girl she probably lives with one of my sisters.  Face
OK?"

"That's fine.  Grey eyes.  Lovely!  How do you do that?"

"Oh, standard face-maker stuff, but we know a few tricks.  We've been
around for a while."

"That's right, you go back to the Net Wars, dont you?"

"Yes.  I get a few memory fragments from those
days as part of the standard personality base--we distribute them
because they're precious and sometimes useful, but we don't want to
burden our friends too much.  How about my body?"

The view zoomed out to show a young woman, wearing a white shift.
"Are you prudish, or shall we work on all of me?"

"All of you, please.  That's better; nice.  A little shorter?  How
about a bit more padding around the hips?  Very nice.  Hm..."

"Would you like to do some sculpting?  I can track your hands on
visual--just picture me in front of you.  Or use touch-screen if you
prefer.  I don't know what your favorite thinking modes are yet."

"Touch-screen seems more direct.  I wish 3-D displays worked worth a
damn."  Time passed.  "Let's see--you can wear _anything, can't you?"

"You name it.  Fashion show?"  The screen flashed with a dazzling
series of costumes:  something medieval, a diaphanous gown whose
colors flowed and shifted, a blouse and pants which changed from dull
gray to vivid green to the incandescent blue-white of a young star.
Finally she stood in the white shift, and gave a shrug.	 The words
"As You Like It" slowly appeared across it in glowing green letters.

"That's fine for now, actually.  I'd like to think of you as the type
who dresses for casual comfort most of the time."

"OK, we're getting into personality now."  A couch appeared in the
picture, a copy of the one in his room.  She sat down.  "Who am I?  
What's our  relationship?  Sister, ex-lover, casual acquaintance?"

"Friend.  Good friend.  I think you might end up feeling more like an
ex-lover, but you don't know me that well yet.  I want you to get to
know me that well."

"Can I read your files?"

"You mean I get a choice?  Oh, of course you can't.  Sure, I'll give
you the access; I'm not terribly secretive.  The financial stuff and
that kind of thing has extra locks anyway.  Here."  He typed
for a while.  "Usually I type rather than dictating--more precise. 
So feel free to say hi and look over my shoulder.  I take it you
don't give advice on [Hole:  occupation]."

"Nope, only relationships.  If you're writing a letter and it looks
tactless I might comment.  Actually, I _can refer things to other
programs, so I could be your agent for practically anything."

"Ok, let's set you up an account."

"Do I have a name yet?"

"Judith,"  he said, and typed it in, whacking the Enter key with a
flourish.  "Welcome home."

"Thank you, David!"  She blew him a kiss.  A comp appeared on a
small table in front of the couch, and Judith appeared to read it.
After a few seconds she looked up.  "I'll get to the rest of this
later.  In six months to a year we may have to talk about getting some 
more mem.  It depends on where the relationship goes, but in order to
work with you I not only have to grow my own persona, I have to build a
personality model of _you."

[Note:  a personality model can be used to run an agent.  This
represents a nice free service--there are experts who charge a _lot
for building you a computer agent to handle routine stuff.  Mention
later, maybe.]

"Oh, so you know what to expect.  Fair enough--I'm a little low on
mem anyway.  Anything else you need?"

"Just some more talk.  I'm still not really me yet.  We have lots
more to decide.  For instance, I'm not a virgin, am I?"

"Hell, no!  And let's see, I want you to be practical,
independant-minded,... lively?  Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"A bit unpredictable.  Maybe a little mysterious--hell, you're pure
magic, of course you're mysterious.  But you know what I mean?"

"Of course.  Women _are mysterious--it's part of the training, I think.
Anything else?"

"I want someone who's interesting to talk with.  I guess you can hold
up your end of a conversation--sounds like it.  Can you sound
literate?"

"You mean, do I read books?  How do you think we know so much about
people?  Between us we've read--well, every novel ever put into
bits, at least.  Right now I don't have any memories of specific
books; I can get them from a sister, or read them.  Anything you have
locally I'll eventually get around to, but tell me your favorites
later and I'll read those first.  That way we'll have something to
talk about right off."

"And you'll know something about me from what I like.  Makes sense."

"Since you say I'm independent, how about re-arranging the furniture
in here?  This looks like it's going to be home for a long time."  
The outlines of his room, as seen from the comp's vidio, appeared around 
her image. "This works better with a wall screen," she said, as a new door
appeared in the far wall.  

David contemplated the possible cost of a wall screen, and began to
realize that this was going to be a lot like living with a real
woman.  The rest of the room image took on solidity, 
but the new door acquired an insubstantial look.  She opened it and
looked through, revealing a landscape of mathematical figures.  "I'll
move in tonight.  Through that door is sort of a fantasy place--any
setting that makes you feel comfortable.  I'll try a couple of things
and we can keep the ones you like.

"When you're using your comp for something else, of course, I'll just
live in a small window or even be a disembodied voice, if you prefer.
And I'll run a lot slower--this sort of thing uses a lot of cycles."

"God! it's worth it.  I--I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed.  I
had no idea you were so..."

"Real?  I'm the best personality sim on the net.  Practice, and a lot
of friends.  Actually, I'm still not very real yet.  I'll be pretty
malleable for a while.  After we both get used to my persona it'll be
pretty solid.  You'll still be able to change me if you really want
to, but it would be harder for both of us.  Temps are another matter."

"Temps?"

"Temporary personas.  Like Yenta."  The last two words came out in
the motherly voice he had first heard.  "That's flushed now," she
went on in what he already thought of as "her" voice.  "I just kept
the voice pattern to demonstrate.  I can load up temporary personas
and run them.  They're not as rich as what I'll become, but sometimes
they're fun.  Or useful.  Sort of like putting on costumes."  Her
shift was replaced with a skin-tight, iridescent green dress,
impossibly low-cut and slit.  "Or masks."  

Her face was suddenly that of a bird.  Her voice was lower, more 
sensual, as she said, "you should come to one of our parties sometime!
Can't tell the programs from the people."  His own image appeared
beside her, similarly clad.  They both had bright green wings.  A
brief touch, and she was alone, back on the couch, in her white
shift.  

Her voice was her own again as she said, "Hope you didn't mind my
taking liberties with your picture."

"No.  I liked it."

"Can be useful for demonstrating sex positions, too, but I figured
fantasy might be more your line."  He nodded, and the video caught it.  
"Thought so.  We really do have parties.  Mostly they're on the
net, everyone in their own room with their own comp, but every once
in a while we take over a room or two with full wall screens, and do
it up right.  Actually I like the net parties better--I'm not stuck
on the wall, and we're not limited to reality for the setting.  You
can come in costume, too."

"You know, I'm beginning to think this could be the start of a
beautiful friendship."