Space Living (EarthCent Universe Book 4)

by E. M. Foner

  “To see whether people get burned by the steam or hot air when they open the bags?” Julie asked. “I always hated microwave popcorn for that reason.”

  “There’s a specific warning on the bags, so getting burned would fall under the tunnel network consumer goods treaty definition of operator failure,” Flower said. “He’s inspecting for the unpopped and partially popped kernels, which are a safety hazard, especially for older teeth. Of course, the Verlocks would pay extra for hot unpopped kernels, especially if they’re heavily salted, but they aren’t the target market.”

  “I hope M793qK isn’t making Bill eat a dozen bags of popcorn.”

  “They’re using a device the Farling borrowed from one of the carnival vendors to separate the fully-popped corn from the failures. Bill’s job is assigning the partially popped kernels to one of three categories, depending on the degree to which they opened, and then he has to count the results for reporting.”

  “I guess it’s sort of related to his Open University studies then,” Julie said, waving a hand over the entry pad next to the door to enter her cabin. “I didn’t realize that separating the kernels was something those carnival poppers could do.”

  “The machine M793qK borrowed was designed for lotteries that used numbered ping pong balls,” Flower explained. “Forced air systems are ideal for separating materials by their weight and aerodynamic properties. I use air separation in my recycling facility.”

  “This place is turning into an asylum and I don’t mean that with positive intent. And it’s going to take me twenty minutes to get into this dress and fix my hair, so you better wake me when he gets off work.”

  Four hours later, Bill finally convinced Julie to let him rest his feet for a minute, and she spotted Vivian and Samuel taking a breather at the same time. Jorb made a move to follow, but Rinka hooked him around the neck with her tentacle and kept him on the dance floor.

  “You guys are really, really good,” Bill said to Samuel. “You look like something out of the immersives when you’re doing those ballroom numbers. If you stay on board, I’ll bet Flower drafts you as stand-ins to provide scaffolding.”

  “What’s that?” Samuel asked.

  “A way to get you to act in her anime productions without paying you as principal animation actors.”

  “It sounds like fun,” Vivian said. “And I love your dress, Julie. That color works so well for you. What is it called?”

  “Dusk,” Samuel answered before Julie could speak. “My sister used to make me test her on color swatch recognition when she was attending the fashion design program at the Open University. I can identify like two dozen shades of white.”

  Julie looked at him skeptically. “White is white. Isn’t it another color by definition as soon as you put something else in?”

  “Not in the fashion industry,” he said, and began ticking off shades on his fingers. “There’s snow, and ivory, and ghost white, and beige—”

  “Enough, Sam,” Vivian interrupted. “You said if I let you take a break you’d buy me champagne.”

  “Champagne is a shade of white too,” Samuel told her triumphantly. “Come on, Bill. You can help me carry. I don’t think I could manage a tray in this crowd, so two glasses is my limit.”

  “It’s funny,” Julie said to her friend as the young men headed off. “I never thought I’d end up feeling sorry for anybody who can’t balance a tray of glasses with one hand while moving through a crowd. I guess it’s my only real superhero skill.”

  “You and Bill are coming along nicely at couples dancing,” Vivian said. “I can’t believe that Jorb only started teaching him a couple of months ago.”

  “We have your wedding to thank for that.” Julie lowered her voice and asked, “How are things coming with the Wanderer negotiations?”

  “Ronald has been driving Sam nuts with details over how many people should be at the next meeting, the heights of the chairs, and what flavors of juice should be served. I think he’s delaying for the sake of delaying to please the other aliens. Sam says that patience and actually listening to the other side’s demands are the least expensive concessions you can make in any negotiation, but Drazen Intelligence taught me the direct method.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know, discover your enemy’s weak points and threaten them.”

  “Oh. I’m not sure the Wanderers have any weaknesses, or rather, they’ve turned their weakness into their strength,” Julie said. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot since it’s part of my job now. I even tried to research the last mob visit to Union Station in the archives of the Galactic Free Press, but I guess it was edited out because I couldn’t find anything.”

  “The mob came to Union Station before Aunt Chastity started the paper,” Vivian explained. “In fact, my aunt eloped with a Wanderer, and she got the whole idea for starting a virtual newspaper when they visited Earth during their honeymoon.”

  “Your aunt married a Wanderer!”

  “It’s not like laziness is a communicable disease, whatever the aliens think. And Marcus is the one who coached me and Samuel in Vergallian ballroom dancing.”

  “What’s it really like, being married?” Julie asked suddenly. “I’ve never really known anybody our age who was.”

  “It’s great,” Vivian said, breaking into a wide smile. “During all those years we were dating, Sam could get up to all sorts of stuff at home and I wouldn’t ever hear about it. Now that we live together, I always know what he’s doing without having to spy on him.”

  “I never thought of that. Not the spying, I mean, but the fact that I’d get to spend some time with Bill every day, even if we’re just sleeping. Flower has been working us both so hard since the Wanderers got here that I see less of Bill than I did before we were engaged. I learned a lot about cooking when I worked at the diner, but I just can’t be bothered to make meals for myself. I end up living on take-out when Bill’s busy with work.”

  “I couldn’t cook my way out of a paper bag,” Vivian admitted. “I’d like to take a course, but somebody might figure out that my twin brother is the celebrity chef of Stone Soup and tip off the Grenouthian network. They love doing stories about anything that makes Humans look silly because it ties into all of their comedy-documentaries.”

  “Here you go,” Bill said, handing each of the women a glass of champagne. “The Wanderers may be allergic to work, but it doesn’t extend to bartending. Can you believe they were charging three creds a glass? That’s like fifteen e-bucks back on Earth.”

  “What happened to Sam?” Vivian asked.

  “He ran into the storyteller’s assistant, I don’t know her name, and she had a list of final demands for the meeting to go over. She said it would only take a minute.”

  “I’m getting nervous about attending the meeting now, but Flower insists that it will be educational,” Julie said.

  “The one I got dragged into wasn’t that bad,” Bill said. “Someday I’m going to have to negotiate for myself in business, and I guess I always thought it was about figuring out what’s fair so the other side would agree. But I’m learning that you have to watch out for your own interests in business because you can’t count on the other guys to do it for you. If you start off by offering a fair deal, they’ll just chip away at it until you’re left working for free.”

  “And the rest is commentary,” Vivian said.

  Twenty

  “This box—” M793qK paused dramatically and pointed at the container he had deposited at the front of the cafeteria “—is where Bill will put the food samples that are leftover after we complete the necessary certification testing for the All Species Cookbook. I will tolerate no further depredations on the samples stored in the kitchen.”

  “But the old Humans in the independent living cooperative eat all the good stuff,” Avisia protested. “I haven’t had a truffle in weeks.”

  “You don’t see Brynlan complaining, do you?” the Farling demanded, motioning towards th
e Verlock spy.

  “That’s because he’s the only one who can eat any of those high crunch-factor foods without soaking them in water for three days.”

  “Other than the ramen noodles, you can keep it all,” the Grenouthian director said dismissively. “I’ll take the Human produce that Flower grows on her ag decks over any of those processed foods you all go crazy over.”

  “Couldn’t you just contact the makers and tell them you need more samples for testing?” Jorb asked the Farling. “If you can get me some more of those bar-b-que chips, I can make it worth your while.”

  “I doubt that very much,” M793qK said. “This is your final warning. I’ve added my own security measures to Flower’s kitchen cabinets. Stay out of the samples or you’ll be needing my services as a physician. Understood?”

  “Speaking of medical services, how are your Zarent patients?” Razood asked.

  “All recovering nicely,” the Farling said, and his demeanor went from that of an alpha predator staking out territory to surprisingly tender for a beetle-like alien twice the bulk of an average man. “I have to admit that Flower’s offer to give them a permanent refuge in her core took me by surprise. It will be nice having access to sentients capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation about the universe, present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course,” Brynlan echoed.

  “I can’t believe Flower is planning to give up both LARPing studios to get rid of the Wanderers,” Jorb said, his tentacle rising in anger. “It’s not that they can’t be replaced, it’s the principle of the thing.”

  “Wanderers don’t have principles,” the Grenouthian director said, breaking a carrot in half to inspect the core. “Do you think I’m looking forward to making an anime special about a bunch of old storytellers?”

  “I thought they were going to submit some ideas based on the serial stories they tell and you were going to see if some of your staff scriptwriters could make anything of them.”

  “That’s what I had planned, but when we started negotiating, they held out for the addition of a special broadcast featuring interviews with all of them talking about their craft. I cleared my schedule for the day after tomorrow to just get it over with—otherwise, we’d still be arguing over whose turn it was to talk.”

  “Running a con for the Wanderers just about destroyed my faith in fandom,” Yaem said, taking his place at the table. “I had to empty the complaints box twice a day because they kept stuffing it with notes about the quality and quantity of the anime.”

  “You mean like the old restaurant joke?” Jorb asked. “The food is terrible and the portions are too small?”

  “Exactly. The Wanderers seem to believe that it gets funnier with the retelling.”

  Bill came out of the kitchen without his apron and said, “Harry will be bringing out dessert in a minute. The Wanderers have invoked some obscure protocol about attendance and Samuel needs me to sit in on this afternoon’s negotiations since I was at an earlier session.”

  “Did you eat anything yourself?” Razood asked. “You’ve seen how negotiations with the Wanderers can drag on.”

  “Samuel is going to order pizza after the first hour and try to leverage the toppings for an advantage. See you guys later.”

  When Bill reached the Human Empire’s headquarters, he saw that the Wanderer delegation was limited to the senior storytellers without their usual assistants and hangers-on. Rather than Ronald and a few others cramming into Samuel’s office, the meeting had been moved to the conference room, and Julie was handing around juice and cookies. Vivian waved for Bill to come over and sit in the empty chair next to her, and as soon as Julie finished serving the aliens, she took the last seat.

  “All right,” Samuel said. “Let me state for the record that in the interest of getting this over with, the Human Empire waives our right to bring four more negotiators to our side of the table. I’ve reviewed all of your demands, and not to put too fine a point on it, I give up.”

  “You concede?” Ronald asked, rubbing his hands together. “Excellent. We’ll expect the cash payment before we—”

  “I’m sorry,” Samuel interrupted. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I only concede that I’m in over my head trying to negotiate with someone so much older and wiser than myself so I’m giving up on trying.”

  “But then we’ll stay here forever,” the Horten storyteller said in a threatening voice. “Flower won’t be able to carry out her mission if the governments at the open worlds where she stops refuse to allow anybody to disembark.”

  “I didn’t say the Human Empire was giving up, this is a personal failing on my part. Maybe a new negotiator with female intuition will be able to figure out what it is you really want.”

  “Ah, so I’ll be negotiating with your wife from now on,” Ronald said, turning his attention to Vivian. “In the spirit of cooperation, I’m willing to let you choose one item from our final demands to reopen for further consideration.”

  “Excluding the cash payment,” the Drazen storyteller put in.

  “Not me,” Vivian said and pointed up at a corner of the office.

  “Flower?” Ronald asked. “I’m afraid that won’t do at all. We don’t negotiate deals with artificial intelligence.”

  “The replacement negotiator will be the Human Empire’s mentor, who is scheduled to arrive tomorrow from the general direction Vivian is indicating,” Samuel said. “I don’t have to tell you how humiliating it is for me to fail at my first major diplomatic challenge, but I’m confident that when our mentor gets here she’ll be able to resolve everything without further delay.”

  “You called for your mommy?” the Dollnick storyteller asked in a mocking voice. “I suppose we should be honored that the famous Union Station ambassador is coming to meet us.”

  “Not my mother,” Samuel said. “I thought you knew that our mentor is the granddaughter of the Cayl emperor, and she—”

  “Ca-Ca-Ca-Cayl?” the Verlock storyteller stuttered, half rising from his chair. “Co-co-co-coming here?”

  “With her royal escort,” Samuel confirmed. “I’m not an expert in Cayl etiquette, but I’m planning on two columns of warriors and their hounds at the official reception.”

  “Ca-Ca-Ca-Cayl hounds?” The Frunge rose from his seat and fled for the door.

  “He said tomorrow,” the Drazen shouted after the old storyteller, who moved remarkably quickly for his advanced age. Then he turned back to Samuel and asked in an artificially cheerful voice, “Around what time tomorrow?”

  “The message said to expect them at nine, but I’m not sure whose clock that’s on,” Samuel said apologetically. “I’ll ask Flower to transmit a copy of your demands to the Cayl forces over the Stryxnet so our mentor can be up to speed when she arrives, and—”

  “Don’t be so hasty,” the Verlock interrupted at nearly triple his usual talking speed. “Why would we bother the Cayl emperor’s granddaughter over such a small matter? Surely we can work this out and be on our way so as not to spoil her reception.”

  “Before nine,” the Dollnick added.

  “Well,” Samuel said. “It’s not that your demands were unexpected, just that they exceeded our ability to pay. For example, the five hundred thousand creds…”

  “We could manage with four hundred thousand,” Ronald said, looking towards the other Wanderers for approval.

  “I don’t have any funds to dispose of myself, but Flower is willing to go fifty.”

  “Fifty creds?”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Oh,” Ronald said. “That still comes to a couple of creds a head. Does anybody object?”

  “Hurry up,” the Drazen said. “I’ve got packing to do.”

  “And Flower can’t withdraw the Zarent’s ownership of the Miklat as it’s already been registered, so they would have to be the ones to make any decisions there,” Samuel said apologetically.

  “I’ve been thinking about that, and it coul
d work out in our favor,” the Horten storyteller said. “The Zarents were always pestering us for maintenance costs because it was our ship, but if it’s their ship…”

  “Excellent point,” the Verlock said. “I won’t be surprised if the other ships in the mob follow in our footsteps.”

  “So if the rest is acceptable,” the Drazen insinuated, half rising from his chair and measuring the distance to the exit with his eyes.

  “Your demand for both of Flower’s LARPing studios made perfect sense to me, seeing how your people have practically monopolized them since they opened,” Samuel continued. “But I have no experience in military matters, and I’m a little worried about how we’re going to keep two columns of Cayl warriors—”

  “And their hounds,” Vivian interjected.

  “—occupied so they don’t feel the need to go looking for more corporeal enemies to fight. I hear that they’re very keen on tracking ships through jump space.”

  “One LARPing studio is probably more than we can handle without an advanced AI to manage the gameplay,” the Drazen storyteller said hastily. “And considering all of the wonderful work that your volunteers did with the new ag deck plantings on the Miklat and such, I think we can just let the rest of our demands go for this time. Ronald?”

  “If that’s what everybody else wants, who am I to go against you?” Ronald conceded without hesitation.

  “So if you could impose on your daughter’s calligraphy skills to create a contract, we could hold a signing at our mentor’s official reception,” Samuel said enthusiastically.

  “I’d love to oblige you, but something has come up and we really must be moving,” Ronald said as another of the storytellers slunk out the door behind him. “I think a handshake should suffice between men of honor. Will there be any problem removing those—what did you call them, Korl?”

  “Vector processor arrays,” the Drazen storyteller said. “I’ll order some Zarents to—I mean—I’ll put together a party of hardware geeks and take care of it myself. I’ll just head down there now.”