I’m better now, but my mind wanders every time I see them. Their life is laid out from birth to hamburger, while mine is scheduled from conception to fertilizer. We aren’t really that different. Humans are dependent on the machines around us: central air and heating, a building to shelter us from the elements, food from innocuous tubes, and waste to piping that leads who knows where. But humans didn’t always live like this, and I’m sure that no matter how sausage shaped their bodies, bovines were not meant to live like that. Don said that a long time ago, bulls and cows had longer legs and leaner bodies, but as farming practices continued to evolve, they turned into milk-producing tube-steaks, curing slowly in their pens until ripe for processing. He said it was better for them, and that they could live their whole life without any stress. They were happy, wanting for nothing, and that was all that mattered. I sometimes wonder if, with rapidly developing technology, humans would one day be chained to their mind-controlled beds with food and water tubes coming in one way, and crap going out the other, like human sausages with stubby little arms and legs.
The cherry bushes are in full bloom. The white blossoms, never as perfect as the pictures on the walls inside, are always a point of interest on my short daily vacation from the realities of normal life. I scan the shrubs, and have yet to see a single perfect blossom. There is always some subtle twist in a petal, or a brown spot, or one of the little hairs in the middle moved this way or that. Never perfect, even after years of bio-engineering to make the ultimate cherry shrub.
I look past the shrubs as Don, the beekeeper, is pacing toward me with a smile on his face. “They used to be dangerous, you know?”
“Don?”
“The bees. It was actually just in the last decades that we developed a breed without stingers that were still able to produce good amounts of honey.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that. They had steel needles on their butts.” You’ve only told me a hundred times.
He chuckles, and raises his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know about steel, but you wouldn’t know the difference if they got you. It would hurt just as much. Hypodermic needles. Just because they’re small doesn’t mean they can’t do some damage. We had to disarm them when other means of control failed.”
“Something wrong, Don?”
He leans against a handrail between us and the cherries, and I mirror his movements.
“There is.” His lips slide against each other for a moment before he speaks again. “Have you noticed an increase in trouble lately? Down there in the market?”
“What do you mean?”
“Fights breaking out. Video feeds cutting in and out. That sort of thing.”
“I saw a fight earlier. I had to re-code the bots to deal with the mess after agents dragged the guys off. Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be working there much longer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m about to finish my school. Just three classes left, and I can get a better job, and maybe move up to Six.”
“I used to make more money,” he says. “It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. That’s why I quit, and started doing something that I like instead. We live well enough without striving for a better station in life.”
“You did something with research before?”
“Yeah, but that’s not important. Money isn’t everything, boy. You’ll learn that one day. It won’t make you happy. I live well enough. I’m fed, healthy, and have a clean place to sleep. That should be enough for anyone.”
“You don’t sleep above the loading dock.”
“Ha. That I don’t. But is it really so bad? I thought you liked playing with the little robots.”
“The job’s fine, but I need something better.”
He nods. “Well, I wish you the best of luck. Don’t forget about us little people when you make your way to the top. Don’t get so caught up in the maze of life that you forget your own happiness.”
Time.
My implant chirps through my inner dialogue. “Sixteen forty two.”
“About these fights lately,” he continues. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen or heard of people fighting. You think they are all just frustrated with scurrying down life’s little maze hunting for the cheese?”
“What?”
“Everyone’s so fascinated with living on the best floor, in the nicest condo, that people aren’t ever satisfied. And I used to be the same way. I wanted the big job, the big promotion. I just can’t recall ever seeing two fights on the feed in two days, at least not in the same building. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
I push myself off the rail and shrug. “I dunno. Maybe coincidence. Maybe just customers from another building where people fight all the time.”
“I doubt that,” he says. “We’ve bred the fight out of humans just like we’ve bred the fight out of these bees. Something weird is going on. Or maybe I’m finally reaching senility.”
“I’d just like to have a nicer place. I don’t think I’ll be picking any fights to get one.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Anyway. I have to go. I need to get downstairs and study. Amanda will be there soon.”
“Do what you can boy, and good luck to you. Come see me before you take off for some big shot job on the space station.” He smiles.
A chuckle escapes my lips, and I straighten up. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be back for more of that tea.”
FOUR
The fourth floor of the complex is unique in that most walls are made of undecorated, non-adaptive glass. A person in the library can see what is happening from the common study area to the labs. A glass hallway runs from the lift, and divides the level into four general zones. The School, the library and associated facilities, a science museum, and a multi-discipline research center.
I tap my pocket, sensing the slight bulge of noise canceling ear buds, and stroll to campus. The commons area is large and inviting, with several hexagonal tables scattered across the open vista for studying and testing. Amanda is at one of the tables near the center of the room with an open chair beside her. I head straight for it.
As I sit, the aluminum conforms to the shape of my rump. The back comes forward, forcing my back into better posture, something I need after balancing on a stool all day. My learning program appears on the table as the console tilts up for easier viewing. I check over my graduation requirements, and pop in the ear buds.
Three to go.
Amanda jerks back in her chair with a sigh, and plucks her ear buds out, dropping them between herself and the screen.
She whispers, “Robert. Did you already start?”
“Not yet. What’s up?”
Her lips thin as her cheek tugs them to the right. “I’m having a crappy day, and I’m not getting this problem at all. I can’t figure it out.”
I glance at her screen. Basic quantum theory. Everyone has trouble with that course for some reason, everyone except for me. I was always good at math, and even though some of the concepts go beyond basic calculus, the differential equations allow the use of a cheat sheet, accessible through the menus. It took mathematicians years to solve some of these problems, so using the generic forms and solutions as a compass isn’t really cheating. They all leave messy results with plenty of calculations to do. The job in most quantum problems, at least in the earliest modules, is to reduce that result into something manageable. I gave up trying to understand the logic that the subatomic universe functions with, and concentrated on the math. Maybe that’s why I found it so easy.
I scan over the problem on her display.
“Psi star psi. That should have been a running theme in the module. Just multiply the derivative by the original equation.”
“I did that, but the stupid sum is annoying. The last one was easy, but I can’t figure this one out.” Her finger scrolls the screen down to the show your work section. “How did you figure this part out?”
I can feel my lip curl upward. The s
olution to this equation was so clever, and suddenly I remember it clearly, as if I had just worked it out. “Scroll a little bit more.”
I see her mess of trying to manipulate the equation. She missed the clever part.
“It’s the way you’re grouping the terms. See how they all have common variables?”
“The first one is different, you can’t factor any of the terms out because of that one.”
“So leave that one where it is, and factor from the rest of them.” I look up and wink.
Her eyes fix on the screen. They sharpen slightly, but any frustration serves as fuel to decode the trick. Her fingers move quickly over the terms, shifting them into a form that will give her the final solution. Her cheeks hollow slightly, and her eyes light up. She taps a few more times.
“That’s a solvable––wait.” Her finger flips faster as her shoulders relax. “Oh my gosh. How did I miss that?”
Her smile opens, revealing those beautiful teeth.
“Got it.” Her eyes meet mine. “Thanks so much. I guess I just needed a push in the right direction. Maybe just what I needed to get through the rest of this stupid day.”
“That problem gets everyone on the first try.”
“Okay, cool. Got it. I’ll stop bugging you now.”
She pushes the plugs back into her ears, and continues with her studies. I want to tell her that she can bug me as much as she wants, but the words fail to reach my lips in time. I’m fixated by a few loose strands of hair that have worked free from her ponytail.
Stop staring. I turn back to my screen. I tap on the first module. Each class starts with an introductory waste of two minutes featuring a new professor. Then the instructor-slash-narrator rattles on for two more minutes about the course objectives. Finally the lesson starts: a mix of slide shows with frequent interruptions of pop quizzes and review pages.
I’m trying to pay attention, but my focus keeps drifting toward what I might say to Amanda at the next shared intermission. I really shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. Mike wouldn’t like it, and he’s twice my size. Lucky he’s not here at the moment. I can pretend that he doesn’t exist, or that she’ll dump him. She deserves better than a meathead on a power trip.
The first quiz of the module showcases my distraction as a number of red X’s creep into my usual sea of green check marks. It’s enough to pass, but I really need to focus. I stretch my back in an attempt to hone my attention to the next section. The stats on the following quiz improve, and my attention meanders away. I catch myself stealing glances at her legs while working.
Final quiz for this module. Green, green, green. I struggle through a couple of sections, but pass the course. An hour has gone by, and I have only two assignments left.
I look over at Amanda again, and she’s staring back at me this time. I pluck out the ear buds.
“What’s up?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Nothing really. Just wanted to thank you again for helping me. I mean, you just pointed out something that I should have seen, but I think you cleared my block. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Are you going to do any more?”
“Nah,” she shakes her head. “I made some progress, and I have way too much on my mind to start another module. Ever have one of those days when you can’t shut your mind up?”
I smile. “All the time. Like one thought decides to attach itself to your frontal lobe and won’t let go?”
“Exactly. And the rest of your brain becomes potato cream.”
“I think I know exactly what you’re talking about. You know what helps me with that?” The words flow out so easily that I can’t believe I’m saying them. Be cool, Robert. Don’t overdo it.
“What’s that?”
“Have you ever had real tea? Like dipping the actual leaves in hot water?”
A silent laugh and a wide smile. “No. I don’t think I have.”
“It’s amazing. Calms me right down. Specially if I’m struggling with personal stuff.”
“Sounds like exactly what I need right now. Where do you get that? One of those boutique places? I didn’t know they had licenses to serve food and drinks.”
“I know a guy that makes it. One of the farmers on the roof. He gets the leaves, drys them, and makes his own blends.”
“Really? That seems like a lot of work for tea.”
“It’s worth it.”
She stares at her screen, her expression suddenly serious. Did I go too far? Was that too aggressive? I was doing so well. I finally get a word in edgewise with a girl I like, and feel like I’ve just solved the grand unified theory or something. I’m not even sure what I was expecting.
Her head turns back to me. “Well. I have a lot on my mind right now. What would it take for you to hook me up with some of that tea?”
“I have a canister in the apartment. I could make you a cup.” Knock it off, Robert, that’s way too far. Mike’s image appears in my mind. Musclebound and pissed, preparing to beat me into a splatter of Lith-X grease.
“If you don’t mind, I’d love to try it. You have me curious now. I buy the stuff from the tap every once in a while, but it doesn’t really work for me. We have concentrates in the café, but I don’t think they are leaves. It comes in a powder.”
“Well––” The circuitry between my brain and mouth shuts down, stopping the conversation cold.
“You’re too busy, huh?”
“No. Not busy. Um.” I look down at my screen, then back up at her. There’s hesitation in her eyes, perhaps a worry, and some part of my brain is trying to hide behind the too busy argument of finishing my school work. “If you want, we could go and get some now.”
“Okay.” A brief hint of smile appears, and vanishes as fast. That’s my cue.
I close the console and drop the ear buds in a pocket. I was hoping to finish school today, but time with her will be well spent, and this is an opportunity I can’t pass up.
Down the glass hallway to the lift, my heart is pounding like a drum. She’s really coming back to my apartment. What ifs play through my mind. Suppose Mike finds out. Maybe she’s setting some kind of trap. I’m too scared to ask the right questions. I finally have a chance of getting to know her better, and I don’t want to blow it.
As we exit on Two, I’m scanning for angry boyfriends, and she asks, “You said you get the tea from the roof?”
“One of the beekeepers makes it.”
“Did he give you any specifics? Or did he just tell you that he dries it? Or is it a she?”
“Don’s a he. I think he warms it in an oven. He’s got this knack for old-fashioned cooking.”
“Aren’t ovens a fire hazard? He does this in his apartment?”
“He’s got a permit.”
The door opens, and we’re inside. Good thing I painted the place this morning. Amanda surveys the area while I dash toward the washing rack for cups. Steaming water pours from the faucet, and I slide my drawer open to find the extra infuser. I like to have a backup, especially when it comes to an antique like this. The wire-mesh balls are hard to come by, and Don was gracious enough to give me a pair.
“What’s all that?”
I drop the filled infusers in the cups and spin round. “That, is how you make tea.”
“I thought you said it was already made.”
“He gives me the flakes. It doesn’t keep forever after you soak them, like the teas in the market, so you have to make it fresh.”
“Looks like some kind of chemistry experiment. Is it really worth all that?”
“It’s totally worth it. It has to sit for a couple minutes, and it’ll be done.”
Her eyes turn back to the walls. “I like the green. I think I tried this theme once. I bought all the extras. Without them it’s a little plain.”
“I’ve never really purchased theme stuff.”
“Why not?”
A dry swallow ingests some hesitation. “Well, I’m trying to save credits.”
<
br /> Her eyebrows twist. “Saving? Why? It’s not like you have to worry about having enough. Work provides what we need.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what will come, so I try to save all the money I can. I might want to buy a car someday.”
She laughs. “A car? You’re planning on spending time outside, too?”
“Never know. When I start my post-school job hunt, I don’t want to limit myself to this place. I want to see other buildings, and experience things elsewhere. I can roam the city and find new and interesting places.”
“I don’t think there’s anything that interesting outside. Nothing that can’t be found here. Just copies of the same thing. Every time I’ve been out there, there’s nothing but concrete and sky.”
“Tea’s done.”
I grab the cups, and hand her one. “Now, be careful, because it’s still hot.”
“What if I bought a waterfall for you? It’s only a couple credits, and it’ll cozy the place up.”
“A waterfall?”
“Yeah. Just a small one in the kitchen here. The running water soothes the spirit.”
“I guess so. I’m not sure how I’ll repay you.”
She sips the warm mug, her eyes close, and a smile brightens her face. “I think this tea is payment enough. Consider it a present for helping me out today.”
She taps the counter to access the room controls, and I light up the kitchen island, scanning my playlist for something to listen to. Vivaldi has be stuck in my head all day, and I turn on the entire Four Seasons track.
A trickling sound forces a look. The back of the kitchen has become a moving wall of water, rippling down over the green substrata, which has itself taken on the texture of moss.
“It looks like real water. Can you catch it in the cup? Did the install change the piping?”
“Ha, no. It’s fake. It feels real, though. Try to touch it.”
I reach out toward the wall, and pat the flowing sheet with my fingertips. The coolness produces a damp sensation on my hand. The pattern breaks apart, flowing around the contact point, but my fingers are completely dry.
Viral Spark Page 3