Free Adventures of the Artificial Woman by Thomas Berger Page B

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    Phyllis used a public library computer to discover that William Shakespeare was the greatest writer of all time in the English language. Having no formal education, she suffered from great deficiencies. She realized that up to now her efforts to get into show business had been naïve, her credentials nonexistent. No wonder her only opportunities had been to perform simpleminded functions; she was equipped for nothing better.
    She therefore postponed her visit to the movie producer until the following day, so she could meanwhile read the collected works of Shakespeare, a task that took twice as long as the hour she had projected, for the archaic language took a while to comprehend, utilizing the copious footnotes and abundant glossary in the edition she had chosen. In the course of her reading of Hamlet, she encountered the passage referred to by Harry, in the lines of a character named Polonius, who was very foolish, but no more so than Hamlet himself, who by his ineffectuality wreaked general havoc on foes and friends, including a mentally retarded female by the name of Ophelia, to play whom convincingly Phyllis would have to suppress any evidence of intelligence.
    But that was acting, representing that which might be otherwise in reality. At bottom, like all else created by humanity, it was simple despite appearing superficially complex.
    Phyllis still had no home. In the time between the closing of the library in the early evening and whenever the movie studio opened next day, she as usual frequented the venues that stayed open all night and did not require anything of their visitors: airport lounges, hotel lobbies, laundromats, and 24/7 supermarkets, though she was at pains not to attract attention as a potential terrorist at the first named or as a likely prostitute at hotels.
    As she needed no sleep or any repose whatever, so long as her batteries retained a charge, Phyllis was hyper-alert and continued to acquire and record information from a multitude of sources. On the other hand, she could collect only what was within a relatively narrow focus. In the expanse of what existed there were many things of which she remained utterly ignorant. Her strength was in trees, not forests, her memory bank containing much that would be of little use—such as the twenty-seven different combinations of brand names and types of tinned tomatoes, crushed, diced, pureed, domestic or foreign, et cetera—unless she were to get a job as a canned-vegetable buyer.
    At airports she studied not only the luggage but also the clothing of travelers. As to where they were going, having a clear sense of only the here and now, she was incurious.
    Tonight, the first time she had had any money since leaving Ellery to go on her own, Phyllis went to a laundromat, where she put her pants suit through the dry-cleaning machine, one piece at a time, covering her legs with the jacket while the pants were in. After the jacket was clean, she wore it while running the blouse through the washer and dryer. She also washed her underwear though it was not dirty.
    Her shoes, stylishly fragile to begin with, showed the effects of having walked everywhere she went for several days, but she could not afford to replace them, judging from the prices posted in show windows. By the time she reached the movie studio, a one-story building smaller than expected and marked with a sign identifying it only as To the Max Enterprises, both soles were worn through to the pavement in small, oval apertures at the ball of the foot.
    â€œOh, yes,” said the young man, hardly more than a boy, judging from the quality of the skin around his eyes. He had opened and read Harry’s note, sitting behind a desk in the best-looking office Phyllis had yet seen except on TV: wood and leather and brass, and shelves full of multicolored book spines.
    â€œI’ll strip,” said she.
    He put up a small hand. “We’ll get to that later. First