Chapter 2 - Out of Credits
Bar 5-7 is blatantly corporate-themed. Across the back wall in deep purple text, the Murasaki values are splashed: Resolve, Endurance, Unity. There were likely other values once, I’ve forgotten them. I was too young to care much about that sort of thing when different empty platitudes graced this bar.
I hop up onto a seat at the bar and tap my wrist-monitor to the station, causing the small LED to flash green. It’s just early enough in the afternoon that most of the cogs aren’t out of work yet.
“Just you?” asks the bartender, rolling sets of chopsticks between purple napkins.
“I have a friend coming. What do you have at the moment?” I hang my satchel on the back of the bar stool.
“Standard issue. We’re out of the foreign lager they imported for the end of quarter celebrations.”
“Standard will do.”
“Sure thing, cob.” The bartender takes a large step over their symbiont as they move down the bar to pour my request from one of the three taps, returning with it and a small dish of peanuts. I let my eyes dart to their symbiont once. A squat little bird, dressed in neat black and white, like a comical little executive. Likely a Pygoscelis species, busying itself being the heat pump cooling the bar kegs, too small for industrial uses but a good fit for smaller distributed uses in food service.
I rub my eyebrows, trying to erase the image of so many penned symbionts from my mind. Soon the rest of my working fate is going to be tied to whatever symbiont I manifest.
Arms wrap themselves uninvited around my waist. “Conrad!”
“Meiko, stop! Get off me!” I demand playfully, pushing her arms down over my hips.
She pecks a fond kiss on my cheek before releasing me. “You know you make yourself too much fun to tease.” Her long black hair is tied up in two buns at her nape, her black overalls banded with reflective safety orange and the logos of the electrical engineers.
“Just sit down already,” I laugh, tapping the spot next to me as my beer arrives.
She taps her monitor to the station, LED flashing green, and sits sideways on her stool. “Let me see! Let me see! Did you go to the fancy apartments today?”
Obediently I’m already getting my folio with the drawings out for her. I place it on the bar for her to leaf through at her own leisure. “I didn’t get to see inside any of the apartments, but they had skylights, and some real fancy security,” I start.
“Ii na. I’d love to be able to grow a pot plant, they’re technically not restricted,” she says as she opens the folio and turns the first few pages. Half of them are sketches, or in various states of unfinished, but she finds the new Okapia quickly. “Oh! What is it? What’s it do if an Executive has one?”
“Okapia virgatus, and it was only a Senior Director, and not much,” I reply, sipping my beer. “You could ride it I guess, more useful pulling cargo. Dad wants to do a paper consolidating our understanding of the last few named species into the genera for the engineers who plan the harness designs.”
“Mank-ass nepo babies,” laughs Meiko. “Bet an executive gets plenty of work done with a symbiont like that.”
I give her a grin. “How’s the generators? Excited to be working there full-time soon now exams are finished?”
She leans on the bar and waves to try and get the bartender back. “We don’t know that yet. I might not manifest an electrical type.”
“Both sides of your family are electrical, your brother was too. It’s all but guaranteed.”
“You got that…”
The bartender cuts her off, “it’s out. Standard issue only.”
“Oh, that’ll do then.”
I pop a peanut into my mouth. “I can’t stay long,” I warn, taking my folio back. “I gotta get these back to the lab before I get reprimanded for miss-use of company property again.”
“Well, no matter what I get, I hope the credit allowances are better,” continues Meiko, leaning against the bar to watch me with her chin propped on one fist.
“Yeah, and they’ll just take it all away again by ‘reallocating’ you into a larger apartment,” I mutter.
Meiko grins. “I’ll just talk Jason into marrying me. Once you get a child license, you get a family-sized apartment without having to pay for it. We’d be guaranteed approval from Symbiont Resources, despite the resource cost. There are never enough generators.”
I snort into my beer. “That serious now?”
Meiko’s grin widens. “He doesn’t know it yet. I’m serious about getting a window though.”
“Better hope you don’t get recruited out of the Company then, but I doubt Murasaki will let either of you take a foreign contract.”
“What about you?” Meiko’s tone softens.
I take a deep breath. “I dunno. My Dad got his position during the acquisition. Murasaki’d never take a new employee into R&D with his symbiont, assuming I get the same thing.”
“Maybe you’ll get what your mom had?”
I grimace. “I hope not. I can’t think of anything worse than sparking a bidding war and getting your contract terminated.”
“You could get recruited by the Big Three. That might not be so bad? Imagine working for Intertrain?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah sure, leave all your family and friends? Who knows what rules they have, what they’re like? And no choice in the matter, as long as Murasaki likes the terms of your buyout. I’d rather get some cog-job, stay here with my dad,” I add ruefully.
Meiko leans on her hand again. “Folks reckon the Big Three are pretty crisp. Rumors gotta come from something.” Then she adds with a grin. “You could probably use a nothing manifest, keep off their radar?”
I sip my beer skeptically “Maybe. My security file is too thick for that to last long. All I really want is to bond something useful and normal like a Rattus or Columba, get a job that keeps me housed, and leaves me with some spare time to keep helping my dad drawing. Another week and we’ll find out if I get my wish,” I finish with a despondent sigh.
It’s not entirely true. The thought of a life ahead of me filled with polished chrome and desk work feels suffocating. But, if anyone knew what I could see, there’d be recruiters hunting me down. And it wouldn’t be the Big Three, and it definitely wouldn’t be R&D. There are far worse fates than just moving onto a new employer.
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Meiko sighs. “That’s such a waste. You were top of our class, no one in R&D knows as much about symbionts as you, other than maybe your dad.”
“The human doesn’t matter much. Symbiont does,” I quip.
“You coming out later after dinner?” asks Meiko. “Jason’s up tomorrow. We were going to go celebrate in the commons… just in case.”
“This was my last drink credit till payday.” I tap my monitor again at the station to show the LED remaining red this time. “Harris going?” I ask cautiously.
She elbows me in the chest playfully. “Dunno. You should ask him yourself. I’ll give you a credit if you want another one?” She starts to unclasp the band holding her own monitor to her wrist.
“No, shit, leave that on, cob,” I chastise as I swing my satchel over one shoulder again. “I gotta return to the lab anyway. And also, dero, no, I’m not messaging Harris. Too desperate.”
“Hey Chuck.”
I give security a playful salute as I pass through the turnstiles at R&D, swiping my ID.
“Cob. You’re back late?” replies Chuck, taking out one wired earbud. His Oryctolagus, a rabbit species, sits on the desk blinking blankly as he pats it one handed, its brightly colored ears tucked flat against its back.
“My dad still in?” I ask.
“Haven’t seen him leave. You staying long?”
“Just dropping some things off. I’ll be quick.”
“Better be, I can’t be assed signing you in proper and my shift’s almost over.”
“In and out. I promise.” I’m already skipping past the glass doors.
“Don’t get me in trouble!” he calls, putting his earbud back in.
The Dorrien group lab is in the basement. Despite the taxonomy and formal description of symbionts and their powers being fundamental to any applied development, it doesn’t directly make money.
The doors open, and the first thing I smell is burned electronics, the must of antique books, and acetone. It’s so familiar it feels like home.
I pull a ring of keys from my pocket, and unlock the third door in the hallway, the name ‘Dorrien’ handwritten in fading black pen on the plastic door card.
“Dad? Oh hey, Gilroy…”
Gilroy looks up from his workstation near the door, long face and dusty blond hair tied up into a knot on top of his head. “Hey Conrad. How’d it go with Fitzgerald?” He takes his reading glasses off the bridge of his nose.
“Data sheet is already finished. They only gave us two hours!”
“Mank. I definitely told Dr. Dorrien to put in for four-”
“Yeah, I dunno if he forgot or some clocker just denied it. Anyway, what I got is here. You might have to ask for a second visit.” I drop my satchel on the desk between us, lab equipment, data sticks, and preserved symbiont samples floating invisibly in their jars. Well… invisible to everyone else. The preservatives drain all the color from them, it leaches into the liquid. I’ve never told anyone, the same preservation method has been used for over a hundred years. It’d seem a little weird to suggest they should change it suddenly.
I plug my tablet in to the wired terminal and tab the files for upload. As I watch them progress, I bring up the messaging application.
Gilroy rubs his tired eyes with two fingers while I work. “This timing is terrible. You’ll be gone by the time we can get on his calendar again,” he moans.
“Hey!” I start, offended at the implication.
“I’m planning for the worst. I need to get this paper out…”
“I’d like to plan for the best, please. They’ll give a serf a job, no matter what I bond. They literally can’t get rid of me. You or Dad can sneak materials out to me.” My fingers linger on my folio and colored pencils as I return to unpacking for Gilroy on the desk. “Is Dad still here?”
“Yeah, he’s in the back somewhere. Can you look at the vacuum pump again tomorrow? The one that broke last week. It’s still acting up.”
I watch a return message pop up on my terminal. “Uh, sure.”
“The Kites lab is also having issues with their autoclave. They wanted to know if you could stop by?”
“Tomorrow. Wouldn’t come ask me themselves?”
Gilroy sniffs, returning to his work. “Well, you know.”
I frown and leave my station to go find my dad without replying.
“Conrad, it’s late. Why are you here?”
Doctor Armin Dorrien looks up from his microscope, tweezers in hand, as he assembles wet specimen slides.
“Why are you still here?” I reply in turn, coming behind him and leaning on the back of his chair to look over his shoulder at the slides.
“These slides take six hours to set. If I don’t finish them now I’ll lose tomorrow, then I’ll be behind next week. I thought you were going out with Meiko?” He hunches back to his work as he speaks, eyes burrowing into the eyepiece of his microscope. Dr. Dorrien is naturally gray-haired, which makes him look older than his age, with a sparse beard that comes across as lazy grooming although I know it’s a serious attempt at looking distinguished. I’m like him in a lot of ways.
“I did, now I’m outta credits. I’m just dropping off the interview supplies for Gilroy. Security don’t need more reasons to bother me,” I explain.
“Supplies?”
“The Okapia virgatus. I was out doing the descriptive protocol. You put in the request, remember? Did you seriously not ask for four hours?”
“Oh, that project! Here can you look at this for me?” He pulls back from the microscope, indicating for me to look down.
“Dad-” I warn, drawing back from the chair a little.
He makes a face, dropping his voice, “Not that. Just take a look. I’m still trying to work on a dye that will make symbiont tissue visible. What do you think? Your eyes are younger than mine.”
I frown and very slowly lean forward to do as bid. It’s white, just the backlighting. I give it a blink just to be sure and the field of view suddenly fills with preserved blood cells. My hand twitches, and I catch myself from adjusting the focus.
“Nothing.” I pull back from the microscope faster than I should, tucking my hands into my pockets.
Dad sighs and caps the bottles of colored liquids in front of his station. His Rattus symbiont is focused on the workstation, a cloud of sparking blue around its small paws as it leans on the screen and Dad’s notes write themselves into the digital lab book.
“Maybe another week or two and you can start as a grad student? They might let you keep your pencils in your room then,” he suggests wistfully.
My jaw tightens, I grab a lock of my gray streaked hair and turn it around one finger. “The best-case scenario for me is a Rattus, Dad. That won’t get me a grad position in R&D. The worst case scenario…” I trail off.
Dad turns to me suddenly, capturing me with his gentle blue eyes. “We don’t know what your mother manifested; all I remember it saying was ‘classified’. But that was Systems Biotechnica then, they were less… concerned with terminating contracts. We’re with Murasaki now, even if it is ‘classified’ they’re big enough, there is work for everyone. ‘Adaptation in Adversity’. Remember? Worst case… we’re serfs. They’ll find you a job no matter what happens.”
Quoting the Murasaki motto does very little to relieve my anxiety. “And if I do get other offers?” I ask.
His lips tighten. “You’ll make the right decision. Hopefully, you’re not hiding a pregnancy from me like your mother was. They almost didn’t let me get the child license when her new employer reached out after you were born seeking to transfer you back. It’ll be fine, it won’t happen.”
I’d rather just avoid looking at his eyes, scared of what I’ll see there. In my gut, I know it isn’t going to be anything normal. Nothing about my connection with other people’s symbionts is normal, let alone what my own might be like. It’s not that I’m against having an unusual symbiont, I’m against the values of whoever might be in the business of purchasing unusual symbionts.
“How late you going to be?” I ask, changing the topic.
“Another few hours,” says Dad as he turns back to his work. “You better be home when I get back?”
“Why wouldn’t I be home?” I reply innocently.