Assisted Living Page 4

  “Do you have many children on Bits?” Dianne asked.

  “Me? Personally?”

  “I meant as a percentage of the population. I’m working on an article for the Galactic Free Press.”

  “I grew up here, and there are more children now than when I was a kid. Being an anarchy, we don’t really do a census or any of that, but I think there were something like fifty-five thousand sign-ups for the last under-eighteen tournament. You have to figure in that children under four or five don’t all participate.”

  “How about the split between men and women?” asked Tom, one of the cooperative’s newest members who had joined at the Alfe recycling facility.

  “I’ve heard that in the early days there were way too many guys, but that changed after Bits declared neutrality and started letting pirates land for supplies. A lot of the women here today were ransomed from pirates, including my mom and my aunt.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous dealing with pirates?” Dianne asked. “What’s to stop them from attacking here?”

  “We stay on good terms and buy lots of old weapons from them.”

  “So you have an arsenal to defend yourselves.”

  “No, the weapons are for research so we can model them accurately in games. The rules committee pays top cred if you have anything we haven’t seen before.” Ariel paused in front of an ancient piece of equipment that resembled a computer terminal without a screen. “You see these?” she asked, picking up a stack of punch cards and fanning them out so the visitors could see the holes. “People on Earth used to program computers with these back before they had electricity.”

  “I’m pretty sure they had electricity,” Nancy told her. “I believe the use of punch cards to input data was borrowed from old mechanical looms.”

  “Could be,” Ariel said, putting down the cards and walking a few more steps backwards before pointing out a large reel of magnetic tape. “I think they used this for playing music.”

  “Actually, magnetic tapes were an early form of storage for programs and data,” the former schoolteacher corrected their guide. “Maybe we’ll just look around on our own, if that’s alright with you.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Ariel replied with a shrug, clearly relieved to be unburdened of having to fake her way through a tour. Nancy took over, leading the group past the muddle of hardware, and pointing out pieces of equipment that she recognized from a Grenouthian documentary on the subject and her own visits to museums back on Earth. Dianne dropped back to talk with their former guide.

  “Deal’s a deal,” Ariel said. “No refunds.”

  “I don’t want your money,” the correspondent said. “I’d just like to ask you some questions.”

  “What about?”

  “Growing up on Bits, what life is like here. The Galactic Free Press is always interested in stories like that.”

  “What does it pay?”

  “It doesn’t really work like that.”

  “Is that why they call it the Free Press, because you work for free?”

  “No, I meant we don’t pay for stories.”

  “But you get paid.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “You get paid for my story and I don’t. So what’s in it for me?”

  “We’re sort of the paper of record for humanity, so you become part of history.”

  “Look around,” Ariel said, waving her arms. “I’m already part of history. That’s the whole point of what we do here.”

  “I could buy you lunch?”

  “Okay, but I pick the place.” The girl put her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. “Listen up, everybody. Thanks for coming on the tour but it’s time for my lunch break. The area there with the glowing blue fence is the penalty box and you can walk right through the gate because the game master hasn’t tagged you. I’ll be back in an hour if you have any questions.”

  “How about your arbitration duties?” Dianne asked.

  “They can wait.”

  The tour group barely noticed the departure of their guide with the Galactic Free Press reporter as Nancy’s memory was proving better than even she could have hoped. It took them almost a half an hour to make the short walk to the penalty box, and Julie found herself surprised over and over by the ingenuity with which humans had managed to enter the information age without alien help.

  “This is it,” Jack said when they arrived at the glowing blue gate. “She said we could walk right in.” He lifted the latch and led the way into the penalty box, which proved to be spartanly furnished with long benches and little else. The ejected players, all of whom appeared old enough to join Flower’s Paradise, were so intent on arguing with each other about real or perceived rules infractions that they paid no attention to the new arrivals until Julie entered.

  “Hey, that one’s too young to have been in the tournament,” somebody cried. “If there was an administrative error, we can all claim a refund.”

  “I wasn’t playing,” Julie said. “I only came along to help with the tour group.”

  “What tour group?” an older woman asked. “Nobody comes here on tours.”

  “We’re from Flower, the ship that’s here to pick up your—”

  “Losers,” the woman interrupted, and then she looked embarrassed. “Not you, young lady. Those modernists and their holographic blasphemy. May as well just join up with the aliens.”

  “Good riddance to them,” an old man chimed in, and all of a sudden the hundred-odd players who had been at each other’s throats were in perfect agreement with each other.

  “Actually, we’re here as more than just tourists,” Jack said, motioning for the group members to start handing out their flyers. “We’re from the new independent living cooperative on Flower, and—”

  “Read about that in the Galactic Free Press,” a bear of a man with a white, full-face beard interrupted. “Got yourselves cheated by a couple of con artists. The Horten navy picked them up not too far from here.”

  “Yes, well, we’ve put that behind us and we’re recruiting for—”

  “Does he do carpal tunnel?” an elderly woman spoke over Jack.

  “Excuse me?”

  “This alien doctor with the special on knee replacements,” she said, brandishing the ad on the back of the flyer. “Does he do carpal tunnel?”

  “He does everything for humans,” Dave spoke up. “M793qK considers our biology to be trivial.”

  “Where is he?”

  “On Flower, the same corridor as the library. We’re only here for thirty-six hours though, so you don’t have much time.”

  “Going by his prices he looks like a wonderful doctor. Does he make house calls?”

  “Maybe in emergencies,” Dave said. “I can ask him when I get back. He’s really fast, but there’s no way he would come all the way down here just to do one or two operations.”

  “If he can do carpal tunnel as fast as this says he can resurface a knee, I’ll bet there are hundreds of jobs waiting for him.”

  “Do you think you can reach Flower with your high-grade implant?” Nancy asked Julie quietly.

  “I haven’t been off the ship since I got it,” the girl replied. She tried to concentrate on sending a strong signal and subvoced, “Flower?”

  “You don’t have to yell,” the Dollnick AI said irritably. “Is this about work for M793qK?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve seen your archaic keyboards, terrible ergonomic design. The doctor said he’s willing to visit and do as many operations as he can fit in before we leave in exchange for a flat fee of one thousand creds. The Bitters can split the costs among themselves any way they please, but he insists on payment upfront. I’ll send him down with the next shuttle as soon as the bots get the apples loaded.”

  Four

  “Thanks again for helping out, Jorb,” Bill told the Drazen. “I don’t think Flower expected the Bitters would have so many packages to ship.”

  “To be honest, I’v
e never heard of a repair depot working on a cash-on-delivery basis. Fixing things first and getting paid later seems kind of risky for a business model.”

  “Risky how?” Flower demanded over their implants, while Dewey began moving the bookmobile to its parking area in the cavernous core. “If they don’t pay, we won’t give them their packages.”

  “I was looking at some of the tags and I just thought that the amounts seem pretty high for obsolete gaming equipment,” Jorb replied. “Maybe I’m wrong, but it could be the depot wanted to clean out all of the abandoned repairs in their workshop and they’re basically dumping them on you. If the people weren’t willing to pay upfront, how likely are they to pay now?”

  “Well, the deliveries are all for stops along the circuit so we’ll see how it goes,” Bill said. “If you help me get this last load up to Deck Three, I’ll buy you a meal at the diner.”

  “The food there is a bit bland. How about I pick a place?”

  “Your idea of a little spicy would burn a hole in my stomach. Besides, we weren’t on Bits long enough for casual visitors so I doubt the fancy restaurants bothered opening.”

  “He’s correct, Jorb,” Flower said, as the pair began maneuvering the floating cargo cart towards the nearest freight lift tube. “Bits is a special captain’s stop. The only visitors are the migrants who are busy getting settled in their cabins before the jump, plus a few game designers who came on a lightning visit to scour the bazaar for interesting weapons. And you’re going too fast to make the turn again.”

  Bill strained his muscles trying to redirect the floating cart into the lift tube capsule, and Jorb hung on the back dragging his feet. Despite the magnetic cleats on their boots, the momentum of the load was too great, and the cart thudded into the bulkhead next to the opening.

  “What did I tell you about mass versus weight?” Flower demanded.

  “Just because it doesn’t weigh much doesn’t mean I can change its direction with a shove,” Bill replied dutifully. “But why didn’t my magnetic cleats hold?”

  “That’s by design. If the cleats had held, you’d have a couple of broken ankles right now.”

  “Don’t pull,” Jorb cautioned, easing the floating cargo cart back from the wall. “I’ll steer it through the doors like we did the last two.”

  “It’s just taking me a while to get used to working in low gravity,” Bill said, but he stood aside as the Drazen maneuvered the cart into the capsule. “You know, I kind of miss those fencing lessons that you and the theatre director were giving me and Julie. I doubt I’ll ever be in a sword fight unless we go back to doing Shakespeare, but I liked the idea of learning how to defend myself.”

  “So come to the dojo,” the martial artist said. “I’m having trouble getting Humans to sign up because of my tentacle. I could really use the business.”

  “I thought you said you had all you could do working at the finishing school.”

  “There must have been a translation glitch because I meant I had all that I could take. They’re nice girls, but I’m mainly there as a villainous thug for them to practice on. The Vergallian woman who runs the school handles most of the instruction.”

  “Will I be able to afford it? I thought private teaching was expensive.”

  “I don’t believe in private lessons. You’ll be part of a class, just the only person in it for now. Hopefully, I’ll drum up more business with your species.”

  “That’s what Razood thought about having me apprentice in his smithy,” Bill said.

  “Is it working?” Jorb asked as the lift tube doors opened on Deck Three.

  “He says foot traffic is up, but he’s still not selling any more swords or axes. I suggested that he make some cheaper weapons for role players, but I guess that goes against his code or something.”

  “Let’s get those packages on the shelves and you’re done for the day,” Flower told them. “Don’t forget to keep all the deliveries for Timble at the front since that’s the next stop. You can sort the rest later as you have time.”

  “What kind of a name is Timble?”

  “Grenouthian. It’s an orbital complex dedicated to the entertainment industry, a sort of giant soundstage for long-running immersive productions.”

  “I’m surprised that the Grenouthians welcome Humans there,” Jorb said. “Are they running the orbital like an open world so the Humans are self-governing?”

  “They couldn’t have joined the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities otherwise,” Flower replied. “The Grenouthians need a lot of Humans to act as extras in documentary reenactments, and they recently built a theme park to cash in on the interest in Earth’s pre-Stryx age. Construction is still ongoing, and part of the licensing agreement with EarthCent requires them to employ even more Humans, so we added Timble to the schedule before the beginning of this circuit.”

  “Why build a theme park in space rather than on the surface of a world?” Bill asked.

  “Even with space elevators and gravity-drive shuttles, it’s more efficient to host interstellar guests if they don’t lose time moving up and down from orbit. And the low gravity on the innermost decks you were just complaining about eliminates the need to use wires or advanced technology to shoot fight scenes where the actors need to fly.”

  Bill worked quickly, catching the packages that Jorb tossed him and arranging them on the industrial shelving that stretched off in both directions until it disappeared into the ceiling due to the curvature of the deck. Reading the labels for the destinations, it was hard to keep from noticing the amounts due on the COD tags. The prices were so high that he began to suspect that the Drazen was right about the game repair facility dumping unpaid work on them.

  Dewey came out of the elevator with a few packages gripped in his shelving attachment. “I checked the bookmobile after parking and some of these had worked their way under the seats where you missed them,” the assistant librarian explained. “I’m a bit puzzled by the sums we’re supposed to collect. If these figures are correct, I don’t see how the repair facility could have gambled on investing in the necessary parts without at least taking a deposit upfront.”

  “Maybe they took a deposit and their bookkeeping is bad,” Jorb suggested. “I was never in business for myself before joining Flower and I’m finding that keeping two sets of books is a real hassle.”

  “Do you mean double-entry bookkeeping?” Dewey asked.

  “No, two sets,” the Drazen replied, sounding puzzled. “You know, one with the real numbers and one with the official numbers.”

  “Are you cheating on taxes or something?” Bill asked.

  “Flower doesn’t charge taxes, she collects rent. I’m not making much money yet so I’m recording almost the same income in both sets of books, but if my earnings go up, I don’t want to lose my subsidy.”

  “Who’s subsidizing you?”

  “Drazen Intelligence. I thought you knew that already. It’s the same for Razood, except his money comes from Frunge Intelligence and the backers of Colonial Jeevesburg. All of that money goes away if we earn too much.”

  “Assuming the Bitters have figured out how to keep books, it’s pretty plain that they’re overcharging,” Dewey said, brandishing a package. “Look at this one. Replaced three triple-A batteries, sixty creds.”

  “That’s almost half my cabin rental for the cycle, but I don’t know what a triple-A battery is,” Bill said. “With all of those A’s, maybe they’re super good.”

  “But what does the repair facility accomplish by charging so much if nobody pays and accepts shipment?” Jorb asked. “Does that make sense to you, Flower?”

  “She must be busy with something,” the AI assistant librarian said after several long seconds ticked by without a response. “Why don’t you two get going and I’ll finish up here. I like putting things in order on shelves.”

  “Thanks, Dewey,” Bill said. “We’re heading to The Spoon for a quick bite before the jump.”

  “Food court,�
� Jorb instructed the lift tube after they both entered. The capsule began to move outwards, slowly at first, and then more rapidly as the increased radial acceleration further from the axis gave them weight.

  “Attention all shoppers,” the captain’s voice announced. “We will be departing Bits in thirty minutes. Visitors who fail to disembark on time will be charged the cost of passage to our next destination at commercial rates and be subject to ship’s law. This is your final warning.”

  “I guess Dewey cut it closer than we thought,” Jorb commented, as the capsule came to a stop and the doors opened. “Turn off your magnetic cleats,”

  “This isn’t where I usually get out,” Bill said, looking around at the unfamiliar booths. “I think we’re in the fashion section of the bazaar.”

  “We’re used to taking the regular lift tubes. A freight tube takes up a whole spoke for itself, so they’re spaced farther apart.”

  “I’ve only been through this section once. I think the diner is that way,” Bill said, waving vaguely in the direction of a bench for tired shoppers.

  “No, it’s to the left. I’d estimate around three hundred steps.”

  “Do you have a built-in map or something?”

  “My implant does have a mapping function, but I didn’t check it. Doesn’t your species have a sense of direction?”

  “On Earth, maybe, with the magnetic poles and everything, but not in space. I can tell up from down, except Flower says I have it backwards.”

  “That’s just a question of perspective,” Jorb said. “If you’ll spring for a shot of that weak vodka the diner sells, I’ll explain to you how I know where the diner is.”

  “Deal, as long as I don’t have to drink any of it.”

  “Alright, stop walking for a second. Now inhale through your nose.”

  “Is this a martial arts thing?” Bill asked.