by E. M. Foner
Con Living
Book Three of EarthCent Universe
Copyright 2020 by E. M. Foner
One
“Attention all shoppers,” the captain’s voice echoed through the sparsely occupied food court. “We will be entering the tunnel in ten minutes. Anyone who missed the last shuttle returning to Earth’s elevator hub will be charged for passage to our next stop at regular commercial rates. If you don’t have a cabin, enter a lift tube and request help. The ship’s AI will sort you out.”
“I’ll drop this stuff in recycling on my way home,” Hank told the waitress who was just arriving for her shift at The Spoon. “I shut off the deep fryer, but I left the griddle hot for eggs and pancakes.”
“In other words, the usual,” Julie said, checking the prepped items in the refrigerator. “You didn’t make coffee?”
“I cleaned the pots,” the owner’s son replied. “You know that I’m only working part-time from now on, right?”
“Your mother told me that you’re starting college. She’s very proud of you.”
“The entrance exam was a snap even though it’s been more than a year since I graduated high school. This is the first time the Open University has added a campus that’s not on a Stryx station and Flower is recruiting students to make it a success. She’s already set me up with a work-study job that will cover all the fees.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Work doesn’t start until after the first two weeks of class. Knowing Flower, she’ll probably give me a job in one of the ship’s cafeterias.”
“Knowing Flower, she’ll probably give you a job pasting fake authenticity holograms on Grenouthian documentaries to sell in the bazaar,” Julie said.
“Anyway, you’re our senior waitress at this point, so if you want to take over some cooking shifts, you’re first in line.”
“Thanks, but waitresses earn more with tips.”
“Now you tell me,” Hank said with a grin. He slung the garbage sack over his shoulder and headed off for the recycling area of the food court.
“I’ll have you know that Open University work-study jobs are carefully designed to ensure that the students can spend at least half of the time studying, ergo the name,” Flower’s voice said in Julie’s head.
“There’s a speaker right over the counter,” the girl replied to the Dollnick ship’s AI. “You don’t have to use my implant every time you have something to say. People already think I’m nutty because I’m always pointing at my own ear.”
“Are you suggesting that I talk to you too much?”
“No, I’m used to that, but sometimes I think I’m getting too dependent on alien technology. Ever since the Farling doctor cleaned all of those killer nanobots out of my body and gave me the implant, translations are so seamless that I can’t even tell whether somebody is speaking English to me unless I watch their lips. I’ve been sending students to Rinka for her singing school, and she told me the other day that I really need to explain to them that she’s an alien so they don’t feel awkward when they find out. The funny thing is that I’d forgotten that she’s a Drazen, even with her tentacle and the extra thumbs.”
“And you think that’s a bad thing?” Flower asked.
“I’m just pointing out that having a high-grade implant can get confusing,” Julie said. “Am I even speaking out loud now? I can barely tell anymore.”
“You’ve been subvocing, and my infrared imaging doesn’t show any more lip movement than I see with Humans who received implants at a much younger age.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I swear that sometimes I start believing that I’m telepathic and I try to communicate with Bill by projecting my thoughts,” Julie said. “I don’t realize what I’m doing until he asks why I’m staring at him.”
“I could link your implants—”
“NO! Do couples really do that?”
“The manufacturer recommends against it,” Flower admitted. “Have you tried the new apple cider donuts?”
“Is that what those are? I thought they were plain. Good thing you told me before the captain stops by for his post-departure inspection tour. He actually likes plain donuts, and speaking of which, I better make coffee.”
“Woojin will like these. According to my market research, apple cider is a mature taste for Humans.”
“Or maybe you just have too many apples again, and you can’t use them all up in Harry’s Fruitcakes?”
“You’re very young to be so cynical, Julie. Why won’t you even consider attending the Open University? We have an excellent program for aspiring writers. Under the Stryx system, your experience from working part-time in the library will translate into advanced placement credit you can use to waive two introductory courses.”
“Why not offer me transfer credit for my years at City College?” Julie asked, pouring a measured pot of water into the top of the coffee machine. Then she began topping off the salt and pepper shakers that the waitress from the previous shift had gathered from the tables.
“Because we both know that you never attended City College, it was part of your cover story for the witness protection program. But I could probably get you life-experience credit for the years you spent as a courier for the drug syndicate on Earth.”
“Forget it, Flower. I’m just not the school type.”
“Are you happy waiting tables twenty hours a week?”
“It’s a job, and unlike the library, the pay is decent,” Julie said. She picked up the tray with the filled salt and pepper shakers and moved out from behind the diner’s counter to the table-seating area. “And look at all the new skills I’ve acquired,” she added, raising the tray high over her head and twirling as if she were working her way through a crowd. “I like to think it translates to my acting work.”
“Stand-in work,” the Dollnick AI corrected her. “I’ve explained to you several times that principal animation actors contribute their voice and their likeness as well as providing the vector scaffolding for the artists to flesh out.”
“But you ARE using my likeness and my voice.”
“Not according to the tests the Grenouthian director ran. He spliced-together dialogue from your Refill character on Everyday Superheroes and tried to fool me into believing it was you. I could tell the difference without even trying.”
“What kind of test is that?” Julie demanded, checking that the napkin holder on a table was full after setting down a pair of shakers. “First of all, the director has an interest in treating us all as stand-ins because you gave him points in the show. Second of all, if you knew it was a test, of course you’d say you could tell the difference.”
“Budgeting is always tight for the first season of a new series. I’ll look into your concerns when we start shooting season two next month.”
“What if I hold out?”
“I’m sure the animation artists could manage with somebody else providing the scaffolding at this point, and I could always dub your voice.”
“So you admit it’s my voice.”
“I have legal counsel that says otherwise. And you would have to find another team sport.”
“Did it ever occur to you that if you paid me what’s fair for my acting I wouldn’t need this work and then I’d have time to think about things like the Open University?”
“Ah, so now you’re negotiating,” Flower said. “It happens I have another job in mind—”
“Did we just enter the tunnel?” Julie interrupted. “I felt something, but I didn’t even get dizzy.”
“Yes, you’ve gotten used to it, and moving into a Stryx tunnel is less jarring for Humans than jump-drive transitions.”
Refill’s fifth sense, a skill she didn’t even know she had before becoming the stand-in for the
waitress-turned-superhero character in Flower’s maiden anime production, informed Julie that somebody was approaching behind her. She turned just as a four-armed maintenance bot floated silently up and extended a silver platter with a frosted cupcake sporting a single lit candle.
“What’s this?”
“Happy Birthday to you,” Flower sang through the bot’s speaker. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dear Julie. Happy Birthday to you.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“First, blow out the candle before the wax melts all over the frosting.”
Julie leaned forward and blew out the candle, which sputtered and came back to life. She frowned and blew it out a second time with the same results.
“Ha,” Flower chortled. “Trick candle. That one never gets old.”
“Fine,” Julie said, removing the candle and stubbing it out on the silver tray. “I’ll eat the cupcake, but that doesn’t mean you’re right about it being my birthday, which I don’t celebrate in any case.”
“Think,” Flower said. “We just left Earth and it was your second time back. You’ve been on board as Julie Gold for exactly one year.”
“Oh, I guess you’re right. Mmm, tasty. Is that apple cider?”
“Of course it is. I asked Bill to make a special batch for you and he’ll drop the rest at your cabin tonight. Don’t you think it’s about time the two of you got married? You could move into a larger cabin together, and I’ll pay all of the wedding expenses as long as you keep it reasonable.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped nagging us about it?”
“Captain on deck,” Flower announced.
Julie swallowed the rest of the cupcake in two bites, finished distributing the salt and pepper shakers, and got back behind the counter just as Woojin approached. He was wearing his official captain’s hat and supporting an older man, who shuffled forward in slippers and a bathrobe.
“Good evening, Julie,” the captain said. “A black coffee for me, plus whatever our guest is having.” He helped the old man onto one of the padded stools at the counter and served himself a donut from under the glass bell cover on the old-fashioned pastry stand.
“They’re apple cider,” she warned him.
“Apple cider vinegar?” the old man asked excitedly. Up close, he looked to be in his nineties, though part of that might have been the stiff white hairs sticking out of his sunken cheeks. His eyes had a watery, unfocused look, and his lower lip seemed to want to hang open. “Cures everything, apple cider vinegar. They kept it from me.”
“Why not try it and see?” Woojin suggested, using a slip of waxed paper to extract a second donut. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“They put things in the food to control your mind,” the man mumbled, but he accepted the donut with a shaking hand, and stared up at the captain as if really seeing him for the first time. “You look like a Chinese George Washington.”
“Korean. I’m Captain Pyun Woojin, and the lovely young lady behind the counter is Julie Gold. She’ll make whatever you want in full view so you can see she doesn’t put anything in it.”
“We don’t do the regular menu during jumps or tunnel transitions because most people are in their cabins sleeping,” Julie said. “I can make breakfast or sandwiches.”
A crafty look came over the man’s features, and he asked, “Can I have a coffee? They didn’t let me have coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?”
The old man nodded, and Julie poured him a mug two-thirds full, hoping that would create a sufficient buffer to prevent his tremor from sloshing coffee all over his bathrobe or the captain’s uniform. She added just enough cream to change the color, stopping when he raised a hand, and then set the sugar dispenser next to the mug. Julie and the captain watched as the man used both hands to pour what looked like five teaspoons of sugar into the coffee.
“Try the donut first,” the captain urged him and made a show of taking a bite from his own donut. “The coffee is hot.”
The man broke off a pinch of donut and put it in his mouth, at which point Julie realized that he was missing a good number of teeth. She quickly gave him a glass of water in case the donut proved too dry to swallow. He took a bigger pinch of donut the second time, and then broke off about a quarter of it and pushed it past his lips. The old man’s eyes were watering so much at this point that tears were running down his cheeks, and then Julie figured out that he was actually crying, and busied herself looking in drawers.
“Flower?” she subvoced. “I think we may need medical help down here.”
“I don’t see anything wrong in my thermal imaging other than a lack of digestive activity due to fasting,” the Dollnick AI replied. “Try to get him to eat.”
“Could I make you some breakfast?” Julie asked the old man. “We have fresh eggs, and I can make any kind you want. There’s pancake batter in the fridge.”
“You’ll make the eggs the way I want?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“Of course. Scrambled? Sunny-side up? Poached? I can even do omelets, though sometimes they come out more like scrambled eggs with vegetables and cheese.”
“Scrambled, with white toast,” the man said in a strained voice and turned away from her to hide his face. He put a hand on Woojin’s shoulder to steady himself on the stool as his shoulders silently heaved. Julie exchanged a look with the captain, whose lips moved without saying anything.
“Woojin asked me to tell you to make four eggs and four pieces of toast to be sure there’s enough,” Flower relayed to Julie over her implant. “I suggest adding a bowl of fruit salad on the side.”
By the time the toast popped up, the eggs were ready, and the man had recovered himself enough to sit up straight. His eyes were much brighter now, and he managed to take a sip from the coffee without sloshing it over the brim of the mug or breaking any of his remaining teeth. Woojin and Julie made small talk about the stops on Flower’s schedule for the three-month leg out to Union Station while the mystery guest demolished the eggs and toast and then started in on the fruit salad. When he speared the last bit of cantaloupe on his fork, Julie got the fruit salad container back out of the refrigerator, but the man waved it off.
“Am I really free?” he asked. “God help me, but even if you’re working for them, the meal was worth it. I don’t remember the last time I tasted anything as good.”
“Everything is grown fresh on the ag decks,” Julie told him. She hesitated, exchanged another look with the captain, and then said, “I was hiding out in the witness protection program when I left Earth a year ago, and my boyfriend joined the ship as a stowaway. Even though she’s working for EarthCent, Flower is sovereign territory, so you’re safe here.”
“I’m impressed by your choice of travel clothes,” Woojin added. “Looks more comfortable than what I’m wearing.”
“This?” the man chuckled slyly and untied the bathrobe’s belt. For a moment, Julie worried that she had a flasher on her hands, but it turned out he was wearing an old-fashioned suit underneath. “They watch us all the time so I fooled them with the bathrobe, but then I guess I forgot I had it on.”
“Fooled who?”
“The people who ran the place. They would have killed me by now if not for my annuity. The insurance company sends a rep every month to make sure I’m still alive.”
“You were held against your will?”
“Do you think anybody would agree to be locked up in a secure ward? It was my ex-wife’s kids from her second marriage, never had any of my own. After Sonya died, they started visiting me, people I’d never even met, but they said that their mother told them on her death bed to take care of me.” He snorted. “Three visits later, they showed up with an ambulance and a couple of orderlies. They held me down for an injection, waited until it took effect, and then dragged me in front of a judge. It turned out that the spouses of my dear ex-wife’s children were actually psychiatrists who the kids hired to railroad me, and after that inject
ion, I couldn’t even come up with my name in court.”
“What is your name?” Julie asked, and then hastily added. “You don’t have to say, but it would be nice to have something to call you.”
“Geoffrey. Geoffrey Harstang.”
Woojin’s eyes lit up. “The author of Starborn Marines and the Galactic War College series? I read them all when I was in the mercenaries.”
“They made an immersive series from my War College books,” Geoffrey said. “The production values were weak because Earth was only getting started with immersive technology, but it swept the local SciFi awards.”
“And your ex-wife’s children had you committed?” Julie asked. “Why would anybody do that?”
“For the money, what else? I’m sure they’ve long since emptied out my assets, and I think the woman from the insurance company mentioned that my so-called family had all left Earth, probably with new names. But the hospital wasn’t going to let my platinum annuity go to waste. Fifty thousand e-bucks a month.”
“That’s nearly ten thousand creds,” Woojin said, and let out a long whistle. “Flower will rent you twenty cabins with around-the-clock room service for that.”
Geoffrey took another sip of his coffee to wet his throat, and then sang in a cracked tenor,
If you’re old, and it’s cold,
And you want someone to hold.
Now’s the time to visit Flower,
Tours departing on the hour.
“You saw a commercial for Flower’s Paradise?” Woojin asked.
“On an ancient display screen, mind you. The hospital was too cheap to put in immersive entertainment systems, or maybe they were worried that we’d start enjoying ourselves too much. When I saw that commercial, something told me it was my last chance. I started fasting to get the drugs out of my system so I’d be ready to make a break for it. Luckily, one of those giant shuttles was scheduled for Pittsburgh your last day in orbit.”
“You didn’t eat for a week?” Julie asked.
“Nothing but canned beans, and only if I saw Martin open the can. Don’t let me forget to send him money. He was one of the decent ones.”
