The Portable Girlfriend, 30th Anniversary!

Doug Tierney’s 1994 science fiction story that presaged today’s robotics— In Conversation with Susie Bright

"HEY, WIREHEAD, wake up."

Jack Bolander felt the vibrations through the floor as his roommate pounded on the bedroom door.

The sunrise coming through his window turned the yellow painted-over wallpaper a sick orange color, the color inside his head when he wired in without any software in the 'Face.

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“The Portable Girlfriend,” by Doug Tierney © 1994

Susie’s interview with the author, following the story.

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Ron pounded the door harder. "You're going to be late for work again, asshole. If you get fired, I'm kicking you out in the street."   

"Yeah, yeah, I'm up." Bo had been lying awake for a while on his bare mattress, staring at the water-damaged ceiling, drawing pictures with the rusty brown splotches, and trying to forget his dreams.

Unconsciously, he stroked the inside of his thigh, but he stopped when kicked the door again. "I'll be out in a minute."

"I'm leaving in two minutes, with or without you."

"I said I'm coming." He dressed without looking down at his body, without glancing down at the lacework of shrapnel scars that ran from his right leg, across his crotch, to his left hip.

He stuffed the 'Face and wires into his rucksack along with a couple disks before he pulled on his boots and his field jacket. He didn't bother to tie the boots; he'd do that in the car.

Stepping out of his room felt like stepping into someone else's house. Ron had furniture and house plants and cats. Bo had a mattress on the floor, piles of clothes, and milk crates of software. Sometimes he slept in the closet when he couldn't stop dreaming about the war.

In the car, Bo pulled out the 'Face and wired the first disk he pulled from his bag without looking at the title.

Do you want me?

The woman, a brunette with huge conical breasts that defied gravity, appeared where the dashboard had been a moment before.

© Honey Lee Cottrell, 1984