The Hacker and the Ants by Rudy Rucker Page B

trees along Santa Ynez Avenue were blooming: bottlebrushes with cylindrical flowers made up of red bristles, catalpas with pendulous racemes of two-toned lavender flowers, and mimosas thick with tiny, sweet-smelling yellow blooms. Most of the fabulous plants in California are imported exotics. I wondered if the woman who reminded me of Carol was still at the Coffee Roasting. Now that I’d worked up the nerve to approach Nga, I felt brave enough to talk to anyone.
    I put my card into the bank’s outdoor teller machine
and pushed the buttons to get $200 in cash out of our checking account. “UNABLE TO PERFORM THE REQUESTED TRANSACTION AT THIS TIME,” read the machine’s little screen. “PLEASE REMOVE CARD.” I removed it and started over, this time trying to take the money out of the savings. Still no go. Had Carol—I reinserted the card and checked the balances of our checking and savings accounts. The balances were, respectively, $0.00 and $26.18. When our checking account runs short, money is transferred automatically from the savings. Carol had cleaned us out by writing too many checks. I seemed to remember her having mentioned something about having to pay the car insurance bill. I hadn’t realized it would come to so much.
    I took the last whole $20 out of our savings and put it in my wallet, which gave me $34 dollars in all. Today was Monday, April 27, which meant GoMotion wouldn’t transfer my pay till like Friday. I was going to have to go all week on $34? And how was I going to get that pot from Queue? No way she’d take a check. Maybe I should pocket the weed and then pretend I’d forgotten my wallet? Being broke on top of being separated made me feel totally reckless. My mind flashed back to the bell-haired woman in the argyle sweater at the Roasting. I decided to hustle back there and try to talk to her before I did anything else.
    I went down back streets the two blocks to the Roasting and yes, yes, the bell-haired woman was still there, sitting with the artsy-craftsy phone-toting woman I’d seen talking to Susan Poker before. But, despite her company, the bell-haired woman was definitely the type for me.
    She had slightly stunned eyes and a plumpness in her neck beneath her chin. She was like someone’s sexy Mom, and I was old enough to be Daddy. I got a coffee
with sugar and cream, sat down on a bench near her, and looked at her anew with each sip of my coffee. She noticed, she looked back at me, she looked again, our eyes met, and I smiled. Smoothly and deliberately, she stuck out her tongue and pressed it tight against her upper lip. Definitely a signal. In the past, women had occasionally given me such come-ons, but as a cautious married man I’d always passed them up. Today things would be different. I stood up and I walked over to her. I felt light-headed; my blood was pounding in my ears.
    â€œHi,” said I. “You’re really pretty.”
    She laughed softly. “I was hoping you’d talk to me. Where are you from?”
    â€œI live right here in Los Perros. My name’s Jerzy?” I stuck out my hand. She took it lightly. The touch of her hand was firm and warm.
    â€œI’m Gretchen. And this is my friend Kay.” I nodded to stocky Kay and concentrated on Gretchen.
    â€œWhat kind of work do you do?” asked Gretchen.
    â€œI’m a computer programmer. I’m helping to design a personal robot. We’re going to call it the Veep. Like vice president?”
    â€œOh.” Gretchen turned and said something to her friend, then turned back to me. “Do you work in an office?”
    â€œNo, I work at home. I’m all alone there. My wife left me six weeks ago.”
    Gretchen looked very interested. “Are you planning to sell the property?”
    â€œDon’t tell me you’re a Realtor!”
    â€œI do a variety of things,” she said, her calm California eyes drilling into mine.