Will Holmes and Watson get their motorcycle licenses? And why would a motorcycle road-test include a parallel-parking component anyway? The answer to at least one of these questions is below the Orange antimacassar, in Chapter 14.
Other Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Sherlock Holmes in Space -- The Knower -- Chapter 14
a story by jabney based on (the now public domain) characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
...
"Watson, good morning!" said Sherlock Holmes in an unusually positive tone, "We are taking our written tests this morning and our road tests this afternoon. Otis and I discussed it last night after you went to bed, and he's out arranging to have two motorcycles waiting for us at the Division of Motor Vehicles. You can watch this motorcycle safety film while we have breakfast."
"Holmes, that is ridiculous. I can't ride a motorcycle."
"You can ride a horse, correct?"
"Yes, but..."
"And you fancy a trip to The Parade of Homes exhibit, for the grilled chicken thighs at the very least."
"Well yes," as my kitchen counter-top dream suddenly made sense. It would be nice to stop by the Remodeling Mistakes pavilion on the way. "But motorcycles, at our age?"
"Speak for yourself Watson. Besides, I have it on the highest in low-level authority that some docents are very fond of riding while seated behind a driver. And, it's the only transit option that makes sense considering the amount of travel we have ahead of us in the next few days. I want you with me and you would look rather absurd trying to trot along behind."
Holmes and I passed the written exam. Otis congratulated us and said that some people assumed he would be able to alter the scores afterwards, "No way. I like being able to sleep with a clear conscience. You need to know this material cold before you hit the roads."
"Shouldn't we practice riding next?" I said.
"All arranged," said Otis. I was mildly amused, but not surprised, when our vehicle pulled into the parking compound of, "Amec Motorsports."
"This "Amec" fellow seems to get around," said Holmes.
"Once you've seen your first, "Roadrunner" cartoon, you'll understand," said Otis. "The rumor has spread that, "Amec," is affiliated with a cult, and we have made no effort to contradict that. Of course, some people might consider our pre-occupation with machines to be cult-like. But there is one big difference."
"And that difference is?" said Holmes.
The angle of Otis's head raised proudly and he said, "The checksum."
"The what?" I said.
Otis said, "Every operation performed by the machines under System's control is subject to verification. If a one and a one go into the machine and a two comes out, that two must contain precisely two ones, no more, no less."
"And are there machines not under System's control?," said Holmes.
All of a sudden it began. The Scream. Otis turned up his palms, and said no words. His expression, which moments before had been proud and sure, and the slight sideways tilt of his head was answer enough.
"If this happens during the driving test?" I said.
"Probably won't," said Otis. "The interval is not precise but usually each Scream is spaced just far enough apart to get used to the silence."
"And when you've analyzed the various occurrences, do they have similar checksums?" said Holmes.
"Not similar, but identical," said Otis, "And you've already heard several, enough to know each time is different. Yet the playback is simply white noise. No matter how high the digital sample rate. Something is going on that I can't explain. All I know is that we've had isolated reports of people of starting to react to The Scream by entering a catatonic state. That's why it is vital that you and Dr Watson have mobility and some degree of anonymity. The motorcycles are the most efficient way of giving you both things."
"So why didn't Edgar or the S.I.T. think of that," I said, perhaps sounding a little dubious.
Otis's answer was blunt, "They were probably afraid you'd break your necks."
Holmes said, "Your honesty is refreshing, sir."
I said nothing but I did rub my neck and Otis said, "Come inside first, we'll get you fitted with helmets and protective gear. Won't help your neck, but good for warding off the more severe brain injuries and skin abrasions."
The lesson did not cover parallel parking, but still our respective combined scores on the rest of the test were adequate to gain us our official SS Oligarch motorcycle operator's licenses. When I received mine, I looked at the picture and showed it to Holmes and to Otis. "Can I get my photo done over again?" I said. Almost in unison, they said, "You don't look that fat in the picture." I let the matter drop. I had been concerned because my eyes were shut. So the gratuitous and faint reassurances I received concerning my perceived girth did little to bolster my confidence.
Sherlock Holmes on a motorcycle looked like any proper Englishman of King Edward’s era on a motorcycle. That is to say he, and I too probably though I could not say for sure, sat astride the machine as if it were a horse. The aggressive, yet tender, embrace of the motorcycle, which Otis and Angela made look so natural, was one of the things that neither Holmes nor I ever did master during our time aboard the SS Oligarch. Another was getting used to Arctic-temperature beer. In both instances, however, we managed to make do.
Holmes had sent me off with Otis on, "What they call a "Hunch" Watson. I have scheduled a meeting with Director Parrish, and he says because much of the technology was developed shortly after our time, you should not attend." How well Holmes managed to make do in his visit later that day to Director Parrish’s virtual re-creation of yesterday’s fire scene remains a mystery to me. "I should suppose that were I able to tell you all the details of the demonstration Watson, you would be amazed. Impressed with the efficiency of the process, the hyper-realism of the display, the sheer number of possibilities almost instantly analyzed. And yet I was most impressed by Sgt Winkleman."
"What did he do, Holmes?"
"She, Watson. Sgt Winkleman is a female."
"A woman as a police officer? I suppose with suitable weaponry she would be able to overcome any physical disadvantage caused by her diminutive size. And I suppose being restrained by a pretty woman might cause some miscreants to modify their behavior somewhat."
""Diminutive" and "Pretty" are not the first two words that come to mind upon meeting Sgt Winkleman. Do you remember that word I asked Edgar and Cody about last night?"
"You mean the male bovine equivalent of a cow-pattie?"
"Precisely, Watson. Sgt Winkleman has one of the best detectors of that unpleasant substance I've seen aboard this vessel. She assured me that she did not originate the colorful terms I heard from her, but her usage was a model of succinctness and, more importantly, perception. "I'll not bias your future writing with too many, but, "Parrish's dog and pony show" and, "Eye-candy" were two that stood out."
"The phrase, "Dog and pony show" suggests an audience consisting of more than you and the Sergeant."
"Admiral Helen was there, along with what I estimate to be at least half the members of the S.I.T. I felt as coddled as an egg. Oh, and you'll appreciate this Watson," Holmes said with a tone that strongly suggested I would not appreciate whatever it was, "The S.I.T. members there compiled a list of protective clothing they suggest will enhance the safety of our motorcycle riding."
"Sounds sensible to me."
"That's what I thought until I read it. Sgt Winkleman looked at it and said, "You have a helmet and a riding suit, right. You should see this Christmas story they show every year, I think that's the name of it, "A Christmas Story" or, "The Christmas Story" or maybe just, "Christmas Story." Anyhow, take note of the younger brother's snowsuit before putting on any of those things on the list."
"They certainly do make quite a bit of use of popular culture references here, Holmes."
"From the way you say that, Watson, I take it your day was not uneventful."