Read Bill, The Galactic Hero 6 - on the Planet Of The Hippies From Hell for Free Online Page B

in his hand and calculating the distance between himself and the pool of opalescent water below him. Bill's muscular midsection was quite red already from the numerous belly flops he'd achieved. He was intent upon making a successful dive this time, even if it killed him.
    “What do you think, Elliot? Should I stand back a little bit, or should I balance on the very tip before I go over?”
    Elliot watched from his lounge chair intently, taking his time to calculate the equations involved and sipping at an Aldebaran Arachne as he did so. “I should think just about where you are will do, Bill. And, gee — maybe you should think about losing the beer can. I think that throws your balance off.”
    “Yeah,” said Bill. He drained the can, crumpled it and tossed it to Elliot. “Good idea. By the way, Elliot. I've been meaning to ask you ... why do you say 'Gee' all the time?”
    That was starting to bother Bill. Not because he had anything against the word “Gee.” It was kinda cute, actually. No, what bothered Bill was that Eager Beager at Camp Leon Trotsky had used “Gee” all the time, and he'd turned out to be a Chinger called Bgr who in all of Bill's misadventures had used the word “Gee” quite often. In his guise as Eager Beager, the seven-inch tall creature had utilized a human-looking robot, controlling it from a control booth in the brain-pan.
    Bill was becoming suspicious. He'd asked if Elliot wanted to come up for a swim in the ship's pool, figuring that if Elliot sank, then for sure he was a robot. So far, however, Elliot, although he'd donned a very becoming bathing suit, had somehow avoided going for a dip.
    Bill and Elliot, following orders from the implant in Bill's left earlobe, had taken berth on the pleasure cruiser IC Starbloater, a converted garbage scow reshaped by the Tasteless Plezure Co. to look like an iceberg. (“A cool, COOL cruise,” proclaimed the pamphlet.) It was stuffed with officers and their ladies, or girlfriends, or doxies — or boyfriends in many cases — since this was a time for fun. The food was as tasteless as the entertainment, which didn't matter since most of the guests were drunk out of their teeny-tinys most of the time. Getting their kidneys and livers in shape for Barworld. All in all it was pretty revolting; Bill thought it was paradise. Which says more than a bit about his values. Now he waited for an answer to what might be a highly pertinent question.
    “Gee, Bill. I don't know. My father and my mother say it all the time. And, after all, I am a G-man.”
    Bill didn't let logic deter him. “You can't think of any other reason?”
    “Gee — no. Why does it bother you so much?”
    “Well. I knew this Chinger once who said 'Gee' a lot.”
    “Oh. You mean, Bgr. Yes, we're aware of that. I was wondering when you were going to ask me that question, Bill. But I'm quite happy to answer you. No, I'm not Bgr. Do I look like a seven-foot-tall lizardoid with four arms?”
    “Well, no, but —”
    “There you go! That problem resolved. Now, as to the problem immediately at hand, why don't you try the implant. It might have an opinion.”
    As it had turned out, the implant was a marvel of bioelectronics plugged directly into Bill's cerebellum. It had an amazing database of knowledge and some intelligence, and could also be used as a handy pocket calculator. The problem for Bill had been in learning the correct methods of utilizing it without hurting his sore earlobe too much.
    Well, Bill rationalized, in this case it was a toss-up between sore ear or even sorer belly.
    Bill tugged on his ear. “QUERY: How do I dive in this situation without belly-flopping?”
    The device was apparently equipped with all manner of sensor devices hooked to Bill's nervous system — nanochip memory, a rudimentary artificial intelligence, and a nasal voice simulator (funny, thought Bill — a nasal voice in an ear lobe!). What was worse was that the demented programmer who had designed