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.The consul general was not surprised to see AnnaChutesov.He had been informed that she was in the country, and because heknew all about the missing Yuri Gagarin-as did the whole world by now-heassumed that the shuttle's recovery was her mission."Comrade Chutesov," hegreeted unctuously.Instead of speaking, Anna Chutesov took her thumb betweenher teeth and ripped at the skin.She dug at the tear with a colorlessfingernail and attacked it again with her teeth,"Here," she said, spitting a black plastic whisker into the doubtful consulgeneral's hand."This is a highly sophisticated homing transmitter.If therePage 70 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlis a way to pinpoint the source that is receiving its transmissions, do soimmediately and inform me once you have that information.""Of course, Comrade Chutesov.Where might I reach you?""I will be in the embassy lounge.Drinking."Anna Chutesov was drinking vodka when the consul general found her.She didnot look drunk.Probably she wasn't.But the bottle on the bar was nearlyempty."We have isolated the area at which the transmissions are directed," he said."Where?" snapped Anna Chutesov, pausing with a tumbler just under her elegantlips.The consul general noticed that there was no ice in the glass."In the state of California.Near Los Angeles.""Is that the best Soviet science can do?""No.A team will be dispatched to triangulate the exact location, if that iswhat Comrade Chutesov desires.""Comrade Chutesov only desires the loan of the equipment necessary to locatethat point.Comrade Chutesov will handle the matter herself.Comrade Chutesovwould not trust this to a man.Comrade Chutesov will never trust a man everagain.""Yes, Comrade Chutesov," said the consul general."You will not require backupagents on this matter?""I already have them, if the fools were able to pass themselves off asuntrained migrant workers-which I think may have been too much for them."And Anna Chutesov downed the remainder of the tumbler of warm alcohol, tellingherself bitterly that all men were like straight vodka, colorless and sodamned transparent.Chapter 16Larry Lepper hated robots."I hate robots," he said."These aren't robots," said Bill Banana, head of the famous Banana-BerryAnimation Studios, in a soothing voice.Normally Bill Banana saved hissoothing voice for his girlfriends.When you were the head of the largestcartoon factory in the history of television, you did not soothe, you barked.Sometimes you did neither.Sometimes you just fired people when they refusedto let you have your way.Bill Banana did not want to fire Larry Lepper.He wanted to hire him.LarryLepper, despite his youthful appearance, was the greatest animator in thebusiness."I don't do robots," insisted Larry Lepper."I did robots over at EpicStudios.You could fill a junkyard with the robots I designed for Epic.Nomore.""These robots are different," soothed Bill Banana.He leaned back in hisoffice chair, surrounded by life-size papier-mache statues of his studio'scartoon creations.They looked more realistic than he did."I thought you said they weren't robots," said Larry Lepper.Bill Banana spread his hands in an expansive gesture.He broke out in apleased grin.Somehow, his grin looked wider than outspread arms.He had goodreason to grin.When you grossed three million dollars a year and wereresponsible for exactly seventy-eight percent of the cartoons shown onSaturday morning, you were king of your industry.Even if it was an industryin which artistic skill, technical brilliance, and storytelling ability werereduced three percent each year as a hedge against rising production costs, sothat after nearly thirty years of animation, the Banana-Berry Studio wasreduced to cranking out cartoons that were only one step above flip-pagebooks."They aren't robots.Exactly." Bill Banana grinned."Robots are robots," said Larry Lepper."You can call them Gobots,Transformers, or Robokids, but they're still robots.""Robokids made us a cool quarter-million last year," said Bill Bananaseriously, rolling a stubby cigar to the other side of his mouth."The ratings sucked.You made it all on toy-licensing deals.""That's where the action is these days.You know that.And don't knockPage 71 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlRobokids.It was brilliant.I should know, I came up with it myself.Kids whotransform into robots.No one had ever thought it up before.They had trucksthat turned into robots and jet airplanes that turned into robots.They evenhad robots that turned into other robots.But Robokids? Original.""I'm not working on robot shows," repeated Larry Lepper."I'm sick of them.Here," he said, unzipping a black portfolio that was the size of anexecutive's desktop."Let me show you my latest concept."Bill Banana accepted the Bristol Board reluctantly.He looked at the drawing,cigar ash falling on the board with each puff."Buster Bear?" he barked."Look, this robot trend's gotta peak soon," Larry said eagerly."Be the firstguy out of the gate for a change.""No good.No one will buy a Buster Bear toy.Look at him.He looks like acream puff.Maybe we could change him, though.Call him Blaster Bear.Stick awhatchamcallit an Izzy-in his paw.""Uzi," said Larry Lepper wearily."We'll call it an Izzy.That way we can copyright the design and spin off thegun as a separate toy.""And copyright the character yourself? Nothing doing," said Larry Lepper,snatching back the presentation piece before cigar ash burned holes in it."Thanks, but no thanks.""So let me tell you about my new show," said Bill Banana, happy to get BusterBear off the negotiating table.Larry Lepper wiped at his shiny forehead unhappily
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