Bright Comet Rosen-Singh lived on a sleepy street in the town of Canhambury, which bordered Wellwood to the Southeast. Her second-floor writing studio had a picturesque view of the branch library directly across from it. Very few people knew that she was a best-selling author. Even fewer knew that Marvella Risingstar was her creation. Of those few, you could rule out Beatrice Anaconda, who had learned the truth many times, but had had the knowledge expunged from her memory banks. When asked to give her occupation, Bright Comet (who gave her name as Becky Rosen) variously gave "exotic dancer" or "charwoman." No one believed her anyway. Her husband, Randall Rosen, managed money for Fandeliguart, a huge mutual fund family that had more assets under management than the gross national products of all the African nations combined. In olden days, having such a successful husband would have been a feather in Bright Comet's cap, allowing her to give huge banquets or balls, and serve on the boards of symphony orchestras or colleges. Canhambury was a hotbed of old money and older ideas about women's place within it.

The grand irony of Bright Comet's situation was that she was worth vastly more than her husband. As she sat in her studio watching snowflakes come down, she found plenty to amuse her. Her studio walls were covered with posters of famous scenes from classic movies. To the right of her computer monitor, the Wicked Witch of the West was watching Dorothy in her crystal ball. Just like me in a way, Bright Comet thought as her own crystal ball – her computer monitor – showed Beatrice Anaconda introducing Renfrew to the different Search Androids. They haven't a clue about being watched, she thought. At least Dorothy and Toto knew that evil forces were keeping tabs on them.

The poster on the left showed the opening scene in The Sound of Music. Young Maria had no clue about the life changes that lay just ahead. Poor Renfrew was just as clueless. He thought he could waltz into Happy Harbor Studios and talk to the real Marvella Risingstar. "Renfrew, darling, there is no 'real' Marvella," Bright Comet purred. "Marvella is my personal property. I also own Beatrice, Orly, Betty Boop, many other androids – including one or two U.S. Senators – and even Condo #7, where Orly supposedly lives. Orly is sending out signals from a grave somewhere in Wellwood."

An unpleasant thought crossed Bright Comet's mind. She didn't own Renfrew, so she wouldn't be able to use him in her next Beatrice Anaconda book. Drat! She'd also be careful about what she allowed him to learn, as she wouldn't be able to expunge it from his memory banks, at least not legally. Sigismund was a mystery fan, so he undoubtedly read all her books as they came out. Well, maybe she could use Renfrew but change enough details that he wouldn't notice.

Or, she could sweet-talk him into letting her use Renfrew. She had once waited tables in Sigismund's restaurant. Maybe she could "run into" him and claim to be Bright Comet's research assistant. She'd have to turn on the charm. Now, where did she put that charm?

Paulh

03.04.23 Front Page

Back Issue Page