Business Class - a tribute story...

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BA
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Business Class - a tribute story...

Post by BA » Thu Sep 30, 2004 10:22 am

Business Class
- a Tribute to Willowisp’s “Class C”

(Okay — a shameless rip-off! But it’s too good an idea not to use…)

By BA

One - Check In

Zoë Sloan turned away from the check-in desk, her ticket and registration papers clasped firmly in her hand as she hefted the slim but heavy briefcase over her shoulder. She was annoyed, as always, at the way its weight pulled her smart charcoal grey jacket out of shape, spoiling it’s clean fit over her hips.

She knew the way to her gate having travelled this journey at least a dozen times this year alone. She threaded briskly through the milling throng of travellers, through the security scan and along the beltwalk to Gate 70 while behind her heads turned to admire the trim figure, it’s firm fullness displayed by the close fitting suit. Taught fabric swished from side to side across the swell of her buttocks as her smooth white legs, bare from mid thigh to clicking heals, swung back and forth.

She was in good time but experience told her that early was best; there could always be delays at the gate. Even so when she arrived she was dismayed to see the line to the left of the passenger gate stretching out before the entrance to the C Class processing area. She joined the line behind a dozen other ladies to wait her turn to be called through the gap in the heavily frosted glass partition. The zigzag entrance obscured the direct view but she could make out the indistinct silhouettes of activity through the glass.

At the head of the line were two tall and stunning ladies talking animatedly in Italian. They both wore high fashion suits and had the perfect exotic physiques of supermodels: long slender limbs, firm tanned flesh without a single flaw and piercing bright eyes. They would attract attention in any company and appeared almost too beautiful to be true. Their conversation ended as the panel beside the entrance binged and lit up,

“Will the next passenger please make her way into the C Class Processing Area, thank you.”

The darker of the two ladies stepped forward after a swift kiss on both cheeks with her companion. The other, with no one to talk to, looked around for a diversion before pulling a compact from her handbag and touching up her already perfect face. As she turned towards the light, Zoë couldn’t help but notice her breasts almost bursting out of her baby blue Channel suit in defiance of gravity.

In front of Zoë in line were a pretty little blonde, only eighteen or twenty, in casual clothes, a slightly older looking brunette in a trouser suit and a redhead next in line. The two young women stared around with bored faces, the youngest fiddling with her bag. The redhead turned around and smiled.

Zoë was surprised to see that she had a more mature face, framed by a mass of fiery curls; very pretty and freckled and she guessed at mid to late thirties, almost ten years older than Zoë herself who looked about twenty-eight. She was casually dressed in jeans and a tight sweater, carrying a brown leather jacket over her arm. Zoë noticed a gold ring on her wedding finger as she took her in at a glance.

“They’re taking about five minutes to process each passenger so we’ll be here a while! I’ve never seen things this busy.”

“Yes, I’m certainly glad I came early. Do you travel this way often?”, Zoe’s clipped and clear English accent drew a glance from the young woman ahead in line before she turned away again.

“Sure, my husband works in Tokyo and I look after his family here in Boston, I visit him all the time…. Hi, I’m Jane Marshall…”

She held out her hand and Zoë shook it, introducing herself. They chatted as the second Italian was called forward followed by the others one at a time. Zoë explained her job as sales manager and her jet set lifestyle to her new friend and Jane talked about her husband and his children.

Having broken the ice, Jane plucked up courage to ask the burning question that had formed in her mind:

“Say, I hope you don’t mind me asking, Zoë, but, what with your job and looking at you… Are you a Femtech 4000 Series? Sorry, I don’t mean to be personal…”

Zoë smiled reassuringly, “Yes I am actually, it’s nice to be recognised, and you?”

“Oh I’m just a Type Seven from Companion Robotics. Its expensive for my husband to operate an independent unit, he isn’t a millionaire or anything, but he keeps me up to spec and serviced well…
I read about your model when you came out but I’ve never met one before. You really are some machine…”

Zoë blushed a little at the praise. She couldn’t deny that her type was the World leader in executive andronics, based on the proven 400 chassis system but with huge development in processing and tasking ability. She steered the conversation back to Jane. As a standard production model the older woman had clearly been upgraded and customised to judge from her natural social interaction. It seemed her husband was in robotics and had personally upgraded and developed her system over several years making her pretty unique.

As they chatted the line moved forward and the two women ahead of them entered the processing area one at a time without joining the conversation. The line speeded up after the Italians and eventually it was Jane’s turn.

“Maybe see you in Tokyo, have a good flight!”

Zoë was left alone since nobody had joined the line behind her. She checked her watch and was relieved to see that there was plenty of time for her to make her departure. She watched the blurred shapes moving through the glass. She hadn’t followed Jane but she could make out a number of figures standing while others bustled about. Large boxes were wheeled past, cargo from connecting flights she guessed.

Her turn came quickly and she was startled by the announcement before stepping through the portal herself.

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Business Class Part 2

Post by BA » Thu Sep 30, 2004 10:23 am

Two — Delay

From the empty C Class waiting area, separated from the airport throng behind a rope barrier, Zoë stepped into a scene of organised bustle. A neat and efficient looking airline attendant called to her,

“Ms Sloan, over here please… Follow me please.”

Zoë followed her across the large and busy space towards a group of women around a service desk in the far corner. She looked around her at the familiar scene. There were six process stations at this gate, most occupied by a passenger attended by a uniformed airline employee beside the bare metal tables.

Closest to her were the two Italian ladies at stations 5 and 6, identified by large overhead signs. The big-breasted blonde was stripping out of her Chanel suit and her attendant carefully hung the garments in the six-foot packing crate beside them. As Zoë watched the Italian reached back to unclasp her bra, releasing her gravity defying breasts with their hard brown nipples and displaying them to the busy room. She wore the same bored air as when she had touched up her makeup earlier and did not seem in the least embarrassed or indignant at the public exposure.

Her darker companion was already stark naked at the next station, her body immaculate without a wrinkle or flaw. Her expression was the same: bored and a little impatient. She stood to attention, stiff and straight backed, breasts jutting preposterously out from her slim figure, arms close by her sides, fingers straight. Her only animation was in her face as she answered the questions of her attendant in her thick accent.

Apparently satisfied the uniformed woman put her data pad down on the table and bent to the supermodel figure of her passenger. As Zoë passed them she saw the attendant use a small tool to remove a thick square of flesh from the naked lady’s torso. She placed it aside and Zoë glimpsed the complex mass of controls and interfaces behind it. Reaching in delicately the attendant shut the android down, a sharp beep signalling her action. The Italian’s bored expression faded to a blank stare as her head slumped a little to the side, her body standing still, with all limbs locked into position.

Zoë was led past an empty Station 3 and past Station 1 where the attendant was closing the lid on a carefully packaged android, deactivated and staring with her inner mechanisms exposed through an oval hatch filling most of her stomach from little pert breasts down to her close cropped pubic hair.

“Please wait here for further information, Ms Sloan. Thank you for your patience.”

She joined the group around the service desk, still clutching her smart-ticket and hefting the weight of her bag uncomfortably. She was unsure why passengers were waiting when Station 3 and shortly Station 1 were clearly available to process them onto the flight. She joined Jane beside the two un-talkative young women and a handful of other passengers from the line outside.

“What’s going on?”

“Don’t know. We are supposed to wait here for advice but I guess it’s not going to be good news…”

“Damn…”, Zoë glanced at her watch again and the two women turned to look around for a customer service agent or some sign of what was happening.

Around the room the attendants finished off processing their passengers and one by one left their stations empty to wheel the big crates away. Last to be processed were the Italians. The blonde’s attendant used a small power driver to remove several screws from within the frozen android’s belly. She disconnected a small forest of wiring and removed the flat grey battery packs from inside. She carefully packed all the component parts in compartments inside the crate and finally dragged the woman herself into place within the shaped foam packing. She sealed the lid and wheeled the processed Cargo Class passenger away.

“Who would buy something so crude as those units? I mean: they’re so obviously artificial…. It’s like a schoolboy’s fantasy. They’re only built for one thing!”

“We’re all built for that honey!”

Zoë blushed at Jane’s remark and laughed, “Okay, okay! But I like to think we’re capable of a lot more besides!!”

She watched as the last two of the airline staff talked by the far wall. The taller, undid the other’s uniform and bent down to operate the recessed controls in her stomach. Her companion straightened up began to mouth and gape a little; beginning sentences with no sound to her words and a confused look as commands were entered. Her head twitched as she looked ahead over her companion’s shoulder, her fringe falling into her pretty blue eyes.

“Do you think we should ask her what’s happening?” Zoë asked.

“Just you just wait here! That’s what we were told; making a fuss only ever makes things worse. Out there,” Jane gestured towards the entrance,” we are customers; in here we’re cargo. We might as well already be in a box as far as the airline’s concerned.”

Jane was serious as she looked into Zoë’s eyes, touching her gently on the arm.

“Honey, I once complained about the activation processing, it plays hell with my upgrades when they don’t follow the right sequence (it’s right there on my smart-ticket data but they screwed it up anyway… they hadn’t backed me up before removing my power pack, this was right after the battery regulations came in a few years back.) Anyway they shut me right back down again to “process the complaint” and I lost a whole day with the kids! Just you wait nicely.”

Zoë thought back uncomfortably to her own experience. Her flight had been diverted a few months ago and she had been stored offline for 36 hours before arriving back at her point of departure. Only the next day, once she had been serviced and the airline’s suppression protocol had been deleted, had she thought to complain! She decided to wait as Jane suggested. Much as she loved being a machine there were inconveniences that were best avoided.

Finishing her adjustments the taller attendant shut the other down and left her standing with her top open as she crossed the room towards the waiting passengers. Zoë could see the white curve of a breast and the now dull controls of the other attendant. She was a basic model, adequate for customer service tasks but without real personality, a mass-produced commercial unit.

“Ladies, I apologise for the delay in processing you for departure. This is due to excess transfer passengers from a diverted flight. I’m afraid that the Cargo Class for your original flight is now full. You will of course be compensated with our standard C Class delay package and I am pleased to tell you that you are guaranteed transit on our next service in nine hours from now.
Please proceed directly to gate number 32 where you will receive immediate embarkation processing. Unfortunately we are unable to offer servicing facilities during your delay so I must require you to spend the waiting period in post-transit shutdown to ensure full functionality at your destination.
Once again I apologise for any inconvenience and thank you for your patience. Have a nice day!”

She turned behind the service desk to take her seat and was immediately accosted by a slim businesswoman with short spiky black hair.

Jane and Zoë turned away from the desk, “Damn. I’m going to miss this meeting in Tokyo. I’ll have to call ahead now; I might cancel and re-schedule… Nine hours delay!”

“Yeah, nine hours in a box is a waste of my time too but I’ve no choice. My power won’t last out… I can’t believe they still don’t have a customer servicing facility! What happens if there’s a malfunction?”

“ I’m sure there’s an emergency crash bay but I’m certainly not keen to find out!”

The raised voice from the short haired passenger behind caught their attention:

“…absolutely unacceptable. I’m on a company ticket and it is imperative that I am on this flight. My organisation is a major customer, I demand a place…”

“May I see your smart-ticket please madam… Thank you.”

The uniformed woman swiped the ticket and handed it back. All of the passenger’s personal information from her name, address, model, and manufacturer to detailed shutdown and start-up procedures were displayed on a flat screen at the desk. The airline woman scrolled quickly through the data before she replied.

As Jane and Zoë watched the scene unfold a box was wheeled in and the attendant, the same who had processed the last Italian android, began to unpack the occupant. She quickly replaced the battery pack into the chest of the young brunette and closed the access panel in her chest. She connected a small PDA with a wire that clicked into the woman’s belly button and began a complex boot up sequence. The woman remained still and staring as she began to reel off code in a steady monotone.

“Ms Exxon, I’m afraid your company has booked a standard ticket with no special endorsements. We are contractually obliged to deliver you within the terms of our contract. The delay will receive standard compensation…”

“Well I shall find another airline, I absolutely must be on time…”

“Ms Exxon, as I said, we are contracted to deliver you as agreed, you must proceed to Gate 32 now for processing.”

“Absolutely not I will be…”

The calm attendant reached out to place her hand on the stressed woman’s neck. She pressed her thumb behind her ear and “Ms Exxon’s” raised voice was immediately silenced. Her head sank to her chest and arms hung loosely.

“Abigail, when you have finished un-processing that passenger please transfer this one to Gate 32. Annotate her ticket for arrival re-programming, she has become unstable and will require adjustment at her destination.”

The busy attendant acknowledged her instructions with a nod and carried on with her task.

The new friends left the processing area together, more convinced than ever that they had no options but to go to Gate 32 as instructed.

“I’m glad I always travel on a private ticket, I hate that commercial conveyor belt. If we had to wait twelve hours I could get back home, re-charge and spend the time with the kids, I’d hate to be treated like a parcel more than absolutely necessary. I can’t this time but at least I’ve got the option…”

Zoë was uncomfortably aware that her company ticket did not allow her that flexibility. She was in the same situation as the ineffectual complainant they had just seen. She was free to go but would loose her employer the price of the ticket; if she stayed she was the airline’s cargo until they got her to Tokyo. She signed, resigned to the inconvenience of the next couple of days.

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Parts 3 and 4

Post by BA » Thu Sep 30, 2004 10:25 am

Rest of this story iis n the pipeline after I've tweaked it a bit!

Hope you're enjoying it so far

BA

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Post by Loganov » Thu Sep 30, 2004 3:38 pm

Absolutely fantastic!

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Post by DollSpace » Fri Oct 01, 2004 1:42 am

Nice story...very good! I look forward to reading the rest very soon!

Ryn

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Post by tectile » Fri Oct 01, 2004 5:32 am

First rate as usual BA. Can't wait for the rest.

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