Assisted Living

by E. M. Foner

  “That’s amazing,” Bill said after several seconds passed during which the Drazen barely twitched. “How long have you been practicing?”

  “Since I bought this ball for my required team sport and none of the Humans ever passed to me. It’s a lot easier than balancing on a ball without any seams. Try it.”

  Jorb hopped off the ball, which did a little bounce when relieved of his mass, and kicked it to Bill, who amazed himself by trapping it under his foot. But standing up on the ball didn’t go as smoothly, and if Julie hadn’t gotten an arm under his shoulder as he flipped off backwards, he might have landed on his head.

  “Good spotting,” Jorb complimented the girl. “You’ve got quick reactions for a Human.”

  “Is there something else we can work on today?” she asked. “I don’t have to try standing on a ball to know that I can’t.”

  Eight

  “Are you coming along to keep an eye on your camera?” Irene asked the Grenouthian theatre director when he boarded the shuttle. “I haven’t run it into anything since that first time you showed me how to guide it, and that was only because you were making me nervous.”

  “I know you’re taking care of the camera because it provides extensive data logging,” the bunny replied. He settled his bulk into the open spot next to Irene with a sigh of satisfaction. “I’m not generally a big fan of Dollnick ergonomics but they do a nice job on shuttle seats.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Harry said from the seat on his wife’s other side. “Our feet don’t reach the deck.”

  “Then I would suggest folding out the footrest,” the director said, bending over and reaching under Irene’s seat. A padded footrest swung up and supported her legs at the perfect height.

  “Are you serious?” Harry demanded, looking at the ceiling. “When were you going to tell us, Flower?”

  “I didn’t want to offend you,” the AI replied. “The footrests are for Dollnick children.”

  Around the shuttle, the members of the independent living cooperative, their numbers boosted by ten new additions from Bits, helped each other extend the footrests. Jack stood up at the front of the passenger cabin and did a quick visual count.

  “Looks like everybody,” he said. “New members, don’t forget to take a tracking bracelet from Nancy when we dock.”

  “What happened to Julie?” somebody asked.

  “She’s getting overtime at the library this stop,” Nancy replied. “Flower is expecting over a hundred thousand visitors during the three days we’re here.”

  “Which brings up my next point,” Jack continued. “Timble is one of the most visited orbitals in this sector, thanks to the high level of interest in documentaries and dramas produced here. Expect to see a lot of aliens, not counting the Grenouthians, of course.”

  “Of course,” the director echoed ironically.

  “Since when do the Grenouthians produce dramas?” Dave asked him. “I thought it was all documentaries and news.”

  “Our dramas are too refined for the average sentient. They are produced primarily for our domestic market, though I understand they’re also popular with the Cayl and some of the other alpha-species.”

  “So remember the two B’s,” Jack said, holding up two fingers. “Bracelet,” he folded down a finger, “Buddy system,” he folded down the second. “Flower informs me that we’ll be docking at the orbital in less than ten minutes, so try not to fall asleep.”

  “I wonder why Flower doesn’t just extend an airlock to the orbital so we could walk over without taking the shuttle,” Harry said to his wife.

  “A small matter of spinning on her axis,” the bunny answered from Irene’s other side. “It’s possible for two spinning structures to connect in space, but it’s generally not worth the aggravation. Timble has at least three times Flower’s capacity, but it’s not big enough to fit her in a docking bay.”

  “Is Timble self-aware?” Irene asked.

  “It’s just a large orbital with lots of residential decks, studio space, and a theme park under construction. I haven’t been here since almost fifty years ago when we made a stop during one of my regional theatre tours.”

  “You used to direct regional theatre?” Harry asked.

  “I was an actor,” the bunny replied. “An actor, and a ticket taker, and a bartender, and a tent raiser. You do it all when you play on the road.”

  “And what are we going to do if you take this job?” Irene asked. “I read your script for the play about making documentaries and I was looking forward to dressing up as an alien.”

  “I’ll have to find a replacement for myself. I never thought I would regret leaving Flower, but I originally came aboard to build a studio and train Humans in developing your own programming. Then our host declared theatre a team sport, and the resulting demand kept me too busy to complete my original goal.”

  “So that’s why you have all the camera equipment,” Irene said. “I wondered when you took me to the storage area.”

  “The room you are referring to as a storage area was intended to be an immersive studio.”

  “And that’s why you joined Flower?” Irene asked.

  “The Open University held a competition on Union Station to award funding and Stryx backing for new business ventures. Their hope was that alien entrepreneurs would act as force multipliers in Flower’s mission of knitting together your sovereign communities before you all go native.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Harry said. “I thought everybody was just trying to make a living.”

  “Everybody everywhere is trying to make a living, but that’s not enough of a reason to take up residence on a colony ship that keeps going around in circles visiting Human population centers. In my pitch to the committee on Union Station, I pointed out that Humans have barely above zero percent of the entertainment market because you’re all so busy watching immersives from other species that you aren’t developing your own shows. I proposed constructing a studio on Flower to give the locals a chance to have their holo presence evaluated, and I offered to direct theatre as a bonus.”

  “I thought you liked directing plays,” Irene said.

  “Can you guess how old I am?” the Grenouthian asked suddenly.

  Harry and his wife looked at each other and decided that it was safest to let the question pass.

  “Four hundred and eleven in your years. I’m in the prime of life and I haven’t earned a Production Guild card yet. It’s humiliating.”

  “What did you do before working in regional theatre?”

  “I spent a few centuries in the family trading business but I knew I’d never be happy. I put off marriage to start over again in the entertainment industry.”

  “So this is really a big deal for you, being invited to direct documentaries.”

  “Almost too good to be true. My family removed me from the rolls for bringing dishonor on them by rejecting our ancestral business. If I can make a name for myself in entertainment, all will be forgiven. I haven’t been home in over sixty years.”

  “Then we wish you the best of luck,” Harry said sincerely. “Break a leg, or whatever Grenouthians say.”

  “Hop to it,” the bunny informed him.

  “Attention,” Flower announced. “I will be docking the shuttle in thirty seconds. Please return your footrests to the stored position when you get up so nobody will trip over them. The spin rate of the deck where I’ll be parking the shuttle will give you a weight of approximately ninety percent of Earth normal. Thank you for choosing Flower’s Transportation Services and have a nice day.”

  The shuttle seats, which had rotated one hundred and eighty degrees mid-trip to keep the passengers from pulling against their safety restraints when the acceleration away from Flower had flipped to deceleration towards Timble, returned to their forward-facing orientation. The weight of the occupants increased steadily as the Dollnick AI matched the shuttle’s velocity to the spinning orbital, and only the gentlest of lurches witnessed that the d
ocking sequence was complete.

  “I have to admit that she does that well,” the Grenouthian said, rising to his furry feet and grabbing his portfolio. “Try not to interfere with any productions while you’re nosing around.”

  “Hop to it,” Harry called after the bunny, who reached the hatch just as it opened. “I’ll fold in your footrest, Irene. You take care of the camera.”

  The members of the independent living cooperative filed out past Nancy and Jack, receiving a tracking bracelet from the former and a small stack of flyers from the latter.

  “Are these even necessary anymore?” one man inquired on receiving the flyers. “Flower’s advertising has to be reaching a million times more people.”

  “Advertising is passive,” Dave said, accepting his own stack of flyers. “I was in sales all of my life and there’s nothing easier to ignore than a commercial. Next comes a piece of mail, and after that a video call, but if you’re serious about selling, you have to show up in person.”

  “And deliver a piece of mail,” the other man grumbled.

  “What treatment is the Farling doctor pushing this stop?” Harry asked Dave, as he followed his fellow board member along the marked path on the deck.

  “Special on cosmetic dental work,” the former salesman said. “He offered to redo my crowns for free if I send him three customers.”

  “Is there something wrong with your crowns?”

  “Not yet, but I’m banking my commission. I had them done on Earth and you know they don’t last forever.”

  “Where are we going?” Irene asked, motioning the floating camera through a slow rotation to capture the entire docking bay. “It seems like a long walk.”

  “I think we’re all just following the director,” Dave said. “I saw him disappear through the revolving doors up there right after I left the shuttle.”

  “Who builds with revolving doors in space? I haven’t seen any since Harry and I spent our honeymoon in New York City.”

  “Probably a backup for the atmosphere retention field,” Jack answered from behind her. “The docking bay shares the same atmosphere as the orbital, but the revolving door will lock closed if there’s a failure.”

  “Why not a sliding door?” Harry asked.

  “If the atmosphere retention field failed, a sliding door could get stuck open if somebody collapsed on the threshold. The thing about revolving doors is that they’re always closed to airflow, no matter where they stop moving. I wouldn’t be surprised if they used them in busy buildings on Earth to limit heating and air-conditioning losses.”

  By the time Jack finished his explanation they reached the revolving doors. Irene hesitated for a moment, then gestured the floating camera in close to her body where she could grab it if necessary. Dave followed a couple of the new members through, then Harry and Irene entered, leaving Jack and Nancy to bring up the rear.

  “Are we in line?” Dave asked when their progress came to a sudden halt.

  “The woman in front of me said that we’re at customs.”

  “Is Jack here yet?” somebody called from the front.

  “On my way,” the president of the cooperative shouted back, before adding under his breath to Nancy, “I told you there would be bribery involved.”

  The group split like the Red Sea to allow their champion to move to the front of the line, where a large bunny wearing a black silk sash was impatiently tapping his foot.

  “Papers,” the customs agent demanded.

  “I think my ear cuff translation device must be malfunctioning. Your species stopped using paper millions of years ago.”

  “We reintroduced it on this orbital to make our Human guest workers feel at home,” the Grenouthian replied. “I assume you have filled out a Form 227.0031?”

  Jack made a show of patting down his pockets before saying, “I must have left it on my dresser.”

  “Normally I’d suggest having your group wait while you go back and fetch it, but there are several large shuttles inbound from Flower and there’s no room for standing around, as you can see. What to do…” The customs agent combed the fur under his chin in thought, four stubby fingers each leaving a line in the downy white.

  “If I know Flower, she’s already pulled back our shuttle,” Jack said, scratching his temple with his index finger. “I know it’s not your problem, but another round trip would break our budget.”

  “What are there? Forty-six of you?” The Grenouthian did a quick count, using two fingers held together as a pointer.

  “You know we’re not very good at math. Could we round that to fifty?”

  “You mean cash?” the bunny asked in an undertone.

  “Thank you for your understanding in this matter,” Jack said. He offered the customs agent a handshake, during which the unmistakable sound of clinking coins could be heard.

  “Enjoy your visit. Move along.”

  As Harry and Irene passed the desk, the customs agent popped back up and asked, “Who are you with?”

  “Flower’s Paradise,” Harry replied.

  “Is that a new production company?”

  “It’s our independent living community on Flower. We’re all retired, sort of.”

  “Where did you get the broadcast-quality camera?”

  “Oh,” Irene said. “It belongs to the director of our theatre group. He would have come through right before us.”

  “Unbelievable,” the bunny muttered, moving aside. “That camera is worth more than three cycles of my salary and he lets a Human play with it.”

  “Do you think he was serious about the cost?” Irene asked her husband nervously. “I knew it wasn’t cheap, but isn’t three cycles almost a half a year?”

  “I heard about these custom guys working in the alien cafeteria,” Harry said. “Their salary is just for bookkeeping, they make their money on bribes.”

  “Why would an advanced species stand for that?”

  “Tradition? Efficiency? Nepotism? Maybe Flower could tell us.”

  “Any problems?” Jack asked. “When you didn’t come out, I was worried he was trying to hold you up for another payment.”

  “He was just curious about the camera,” Irene said. “How did you negotiate that bribe?”

  “Practice. There was none of that nonsense on Dollnick worlds, but I visited enough places during my brief stint as a trader to learn how to grease palms. The funny thing is that I thought we were bargaining for the whole group in increments of a hundred and it turned out that the bunny was charging per head. In the end, I paid half of what I planned and was able to tip.”

  “You tip people who bribe you?” Harry asked incredulously.

  “It’s always a good idea to tip aliens so that dealing with our species doesn’t leave a bad taste in their mouths. Think of it like arctic explorers leaving caches of supplies they may never need.”

  “Where did everybody go?” Irene asked as they emerged into a cavernous hall. Giant display panels showing productions in progress covered the walls.

  “We’re all going to meet back here in three hours and we’ll find somewhere to eat together,” Nancy said. “I already talked to a woman who told me that the studios have observer galleries with audio suppression fields where we can watch a production or try approaching potential members.”

  “How will we find our way back here?” Harry asked.

  “Look up,” Nancy said, pointing at the display over the corridor they had just come from.

  “It’s Flower,” Irene said, recognizing the giant image of the Dollnick colony ship they called home. “So as long as we get back to this central hall we’ll be set. Is this the only public access area on the orbital?”

  “No, but the woman I spoke with said it’s the one with the most studios attached. The new theme park for Earth documentaries is on the other end of the orbital, but it’s still under construction, so it’s off-limits to visitors.”

  “Irene and I will just hand out some flyers, have a look around, and see yo
u all back here in three hours,” Harry said, itching to get started. Twenty minutes later, his enthusiasm had dulled. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked his wife. “I’ve never had such a bad response before.”

  “You mean from all three times you’ve handed out flyers,” she teased him.

  “They keep asking me what programs are produced on board Flower. It’s like they’re all addicted to immersives.”

  “I suppose it is pretty exciting here with all of the people milling around. You can feel the energy, and apparently there’s plenty of work because people are still coming in from Earth.”

  “But what kind of—excuse me,” Harry interrupted himself to offer a flyer to an older man who had paused to look at one of the large displays. “I’m here from the independent living cooperative on Flower and we’re looking for new members.”

  The man offered Harry a maniacal grin and then began tugging at the skin on his face, which stretched out like a cartoon character. Then the whole mask came away with a popping sound, and a man in his mid-twenties was revealed.

  “Sorry, Grandpa,” he said. “I was just on set.”

  “Wait a second,” Irene called after the actor as he began to walk away. “Aren’t there enough older actors here to play senior roles?”

  “It’s not that simple,” the young man explained. “The Grenouthians have rules about the number of hours we can work, and age plays into it. By the time you’re seventy, unless you have a twin you can share a role with, the opportunities start disappearing. They’re going to enforce even tighter restrictions for the theme park because it’s considered live theatre.”

  “I’d heard of something like that for babies, but—”

  “Why would babies need breaks?” the actor interrupted. “They don’t have any lines, and all they do is sleep. Anyway, if you’re looking for retired actors, they mainly hang around the cafes at that end of the hall,” he concluded, pointing in one direction and heading off the opposite way.