The bowl was nearly empty when Laura realized that Micah was simply sitting and watching her. “I’m fine,” she assured him.
“I know. That’s not why I was looking.”
She lifted her brow, imitating what Micah did a lot, to make people spit something out.
Instead, he got to his feet. “Emma, do you have access to Laura’s clothing print files?”
“I do. Laura, should I print something suitable for you to wear home?”
Laura hesitated. Her energy rations were tapped out, after producing the evening gown.
“Use my rations,” Micah said.
“Laura?” Emma questioned.
Laura grimaced. “I suppose I can’t go home like this.”
“I thought you might like a shower, too,” Micah said.
A shower was powerfully tempting. She longed to wash away the evening. “Very well. Thank you, both of you,” Laura said.
“Printing,” Emma said.
* * * * *
When she stepped out of the shower, she could hear Micah talking and Emma responding. The newly printed clothing was sitting on the foot of the bed, which was large and wrinkle-free. Emma had printed one of Laura’s dresses, with thin straps and a hem that floated around her knees. There was a jacket to go over the top. She left it off. It was warm in the suite. She went out to the main room.
“…anywhere from two to twenty hours after consumption,” Emma said. “That is, if they occur at all.”
“They mostly happen at night, while I’m sleeping,” Laura added.
Micah looked up from the screen he had up at the table. “You let your hair down again. Good.”
Laura pushed it back over her shoulder, then sat in his lap.
Micah didn’t look startled. His hand settled on her thigh and stroked her through the thin fabric of her dress. He studied her, his expression grave. Even though she was sitting on his thighs, his head was still nearly level with hers.
Laura linked her hands around the back of his neck. “Let’s not have anything to do with tankball in the future.”
His smile was brief. He eased the strap of her dress off her shoulder and kissed the skin beneath. His lips were hot. His hand slipped under the hem of her dress and the big fingers spread over her thigh.
“It’s time,” he whispered, against her flesh.
Laura sighed. “Yes, it’s time,” she agreed.
His lips met hers.
* * * * *
As they peeled away the layers of clothing, Laura could feel him hesitate. His uneasiness was building. Until, at last, when she reached for his pants and his hand closed around her wrist, halting her.
Even though the light was low, she could see the scowl was back. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“There…are scars,” he said.
Understanding rippled through her. She picked up his hand and rested it against her head. “There are scars here. You can’t see mine, yet they grow. Each time.”
After a moment, he let her wrist go. Deliberately, he stripped the pants, revealing the shattered leg and the spider web of scaring and old, traumatized flesh. His chest rose and fell quickly.
Laura rested her hand against the scars, tracing them with her fingers.
“Don’t…” he breathed.
“They’re you as much as your lips and hands are,” Laura told him. “This little whorl here is cute….” She touched it.
He caught his breath in a quick gasp. His thigh twitched and Laura looked up at him, a smile forming. “You’re ticklish,” she breathed.
“No,” he said flatly and far too quickly.
“Oh, I am so going to make you writhe….”
He picked her up off the bed where she had been sitting and dumped her on her back in the middle of it. “You, first,” he growled and slid over her.
* * * * *
Even afterward, Micah didn’t leave her alone. His hands and lips trailed over her skin, everywhere. “You should sleep,” he told her.
“Not while you’re doing that.”
His body was leaning over hers, anchoring her. The heat and the heaviness was perfect. At her protest, though, he pulled himself up and away from her. He settled his back against the wall, then lifted her up onto him, as if he was a large pillow. There wasn’t any give in his body, the way a pillowform would shift under her. His arms settled around her, holding her there.
He brushed the hair away from her face. “Sleep,” he said softly.
“I don’t know if I can,” she confessed. “I’ve never slept with someone before.”
His hands paused. Then he returned to caressing her. “Don’t talk. Close your eyes.”
She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
For a long time, he said nothing. She listened to his heartbeat and enjoyed the sensation of his bare skin beneath her cheek. The silence did its work. She could feel sleep tugging at her.
“She lied. You know that, don’t you?” Micah said, so softly she thought she was imagining it.
Laura didn’t open her eyes, even though her heart stirred, waking her properly. “Melody? Was anything she said tonight the truth?”
“After the accident…” He took a deep breath. “She wouldn’t speak to me. I wasn’t a tankball player anymore and never would be again. I wasn’t good enough for her.”
“She said that?” Laura was stunned.
“She said she hadn’t worked so hard to make the professional level in the game, only to end up with a mechanical engineer.”
Laura eased herself up, so she could look at him. There was enough light to see his face and the old pain in his eyes. “So you worked to be the farthest thing from a mechanical engineer, just to prove her wrong?”
“To prove to myself, I think.” He hesitated. “I did hate her. I loved her, too. I loved the memory. She reset everything back to the zero line tonight. It’s all gone.”
* * * * *
Laura woke, blinking. “Emma?” she whispered.
“You are in Micah’s bed,” Emma replied. “He is in the main room, preparing coffee.”
“Did I have a seizure?” She held her breath.
“No, you did not.”
Laura sighed. “It’s not over yet, but that’s a good sign.”
“It is a very good sign.”
Micah pushed open the door and leaned against the frame. He was wearing pants and nothing else. His coffee-colored skin gleamed in the morning light. “I heard you and Emma.”
“Just checking in on my health status.” Laura grimaced.
He came over to the bed. “You talk in your sleep,” he said and the corner of his mouth lifted.
Laura felt her face redden.
Micah sat on the edge of the bed, so that his hip was next to hers. “You really haven’t lived with anyone, have you?”
She shook her head. “Roommates, that’s all. They didn’t work out so well, either.”
Micah settled his hand around the back of her neck, under her hair. His thumb stroked her cheek. “Let’s change that,” he said softly.
Laura’s heart jumped. “That’s…not the next step,” she breathed.
“For me, it is.” His gaze was steady.
“You don’t know what it would be like, living with me.” Her heart was straining now, torn between hope and a huge fear that was banging on the walls of her mind, making her breathe hard.
“I know what it is like not living with you. I don’t want that anymore.”
There was something she had forgotten. She could feel the demand of the critical memory beckoning. Her heart became a wild thing, throwing itself against her chest. Her mouth filled with coppery spit.
“Laura?”
She couldn’t see anything except the blur of something in front of her. She was inside her mind.
“Laura!”
She could hear perfectly. None of it made sense. There was talk. Harsh, hard tones, tight with fear.
Then, very clear in her head, came a v
oice she knew. “Don’t follow the memory, Laura. Don’t dive down. Look around instead. Stay on top of it.”
Only, the memory was so close. If only she could grab it and absorb it, then she would know what was about to happen.
“Seek something else,” the voice urged. “Find the way out.”
Laura tried to turn away from the forgotten thing. There was something else…something that didn’t call to her in the same way, that waited patiently.
An image of a 3D chart, turning slowly, taunting her. Defying her to figure it out.
She reached out and touched it with bodiless mental fingers and suddenly, the memories came crashing into her mind. Hundreds of them, thousands of hours of research and analysis and talk and more talk. Supply. Demand. Barter. Promissory notes by the thousands. Trading energy for a glittering dress.
Laura drew in a deep, deep breath and blinked. Now she could see properly. Her heart was still rampaging and her pulse beating in her temple, making her head ache.
Micah was watching her, his gaze skittering over her face, worry etched between his brows.
“I’m here,” Laura whispered.
He let out an unsteady breath. “Emma?”
“Heart rate is settling. She is cognizant. The seizure has passed.”
Micah grimaced. “What do you need, Laura?”
“Silence, just for a moment,” she said, trying to sort out the many impressions. “I had a thought, I don’t want to lose it.”
“You were thinking?” He shook his head. “You were just sitting there. Emma said you were seizing, but you weren’t?”
“She was,” Emma said calmly. “The physical symptoms are unmistakable. Unfortunately, the name of seizures is misleading. A seizure is not the body and mind shutting down at all. The mind enters a phase of hyper-activity in such moments. That is the physiological fact that has linked epilepsy with genius for thousands of years.”
Laura barely listened. She gripped Micah’s hand. Hard. “I know how to fix the supply and demand problems.”
Chapter Twelve
Micah rubbed at his thigh, digging his fingers in. He did it absently. Frustration was pouring off him in almost visible waves, portrayed by his stiff shoulders and the way he kept pacing the main room in a tight circle. “You’re talking about money,” he said, at last.
“As a medium of exchange. Fiat money, not connected to any commodity at all.”
“Capitalism doesn’t work,” he said flatly. “Capitalist societies eventually implode. They always do.”
“The Endurance can’t become a capitalist society. We’re too small. Besides, what would anyone do with excess money or the goods that money buys?” she asked reasonably. “Only a very few have children they could leave it to. They don’t have to stash the money to offset times when there is no income to pay for food, because they will always have enough to eat. The basic rations assure that.”
Micah completed another tight circuit, then leaned against the counter and dug his fingers into his thigh. “Just the idea of introducing money feels like a huge step backward.”
“Because you live inside history books and you’ve absorbed all the prejudice,” Laura said. “I’ve read just enough to grasp the principals and that’s all. Stop thinking of money as having value, Micah. Think of it as a symbol, because that’s what it is. It’s a form of exchange, like we use energy rations now. Only it will be a perfect form of exchange, because the credits would never grow old or stale, or become useless because of a radiation leak. Credits can be stored indefinitely and that solves just about every barter issue we’ve come across in the notes on the Forum.”
Micah crossed his arms. His jaw worked. “Credits can’t be used for anything else, like energy rations can,” he said slowly.
“All they do is facilitate supply and demand,” Laura said. “No one would have to be as crafty as Kelly Peck. Now, if they want his tomatoes, they can use credits they’ve earned from other exchanges. They don’t have to have something that he finds of value, because the credits they give him can be used to buy anything.”
“And at any time,” Micah said. “I buy tomatoes from Kelly and he can use my credits to buy...I don’t know…a pretty scarf for his lady, a year from now, when he sees it.”
“Yes. You understand,” Laura said gratefully, relief touching her. “If the scarf happens to be more valuable than the credits you gave him for the tomatoes, he can combine credits he has made from other transactions to buy it. Without money, he would have to forgo the scarf altogether.”
Micah looked at her. “You thought of all of this while you were…mentally gone?”
Laura smiled at his delicate term. “I think I have been putting this together in the back of my mind for a long time. It started with the loss of my garden. Actually, it might have started long before then. When I first began writing promissory notes. You made me think about it in a whole-system way, though, with your research. I lost the garden and you took something of equal value in exchange for the garden.”
His gaze was steady. “I got more out of the deal than I ever thought I would.”
Laura smiled. “If we do anything about this, you might learn to regret the deal.”
“Do?” he echoed.
“That was always your plan, wasn’t it?” she said. “That’s why you started the research in the first place. You wanted to make a difference to life aboard the Endurance. You wanted to make her regret what she did to you.”
He stared at her. “Have I been that transparent?”
“You’re about as transparent as a black hole,” Laura replied. “I’ve just spent way too much time trying to figure you out. You were my research project.”
Micah picked her up off the couch and kissed her and the discussion was tabled for a good long while.
* * * * *
In their spare time, the two of them worked on developing a viable credit exchange system.
“We’re reinventing economics,” Micah had observed. “I could have saved myself years of effort and just gone back to the history books, instead.”
“That’s what we have to avoid,” Laura pointed out. “We don’t want to recreate the same pitfalls. We have to put checks and balances in place that will make it work and avoid the nastier problems.”
One of the problems was introducing the system in the first place.
“I’m nobody,” Laura pointed out. “You’re the horrid organic coder who no one likes and on top of that, you punched out the ship’s beloved tankball player. Captain Middlesworth wouldn’t grant either of us an appointment, let alone really listen to us.”
Micah pulled his attention away from the screen he was reading. “Maybe we don’t have to have the Captain’s support. Any currency, ever, has only been valuable as long as the people using the currency accepted it as a worthwhile exchange. They had to be confident that the credits they were taking would be accepted by everyone else, when they wanted to spend them. That’s not something the Captain can dictate with a policy announcement.”
A lot of their discussions took place at night, most often in bed, in between other more delightful activities.
“Do you remember when you said barter would only ever be fair when the value of something could be locked in and made permanent?” Laura asked Micah one night.
He lifted his mouth from her navel, which was where he had reached, so far. His eyes narrowed. “Should I feel insulted that you’re even thinking of such things right now?”
“It’s your fault I am,” Laura told him. “You carried me that night.”
He smiled. “You scared me, that night. I thought I had driven you into the ground with our deal.”
“It was the first time I thought of you as something other than the man I wanted out of my life as fast as possible.”
He kissed her, then settled over her belly once more. “Where was I?”
“Permanent value,” Laura reminded him. “Something that money will provide.”
“No,
that wasn’t it.” He gazed down at her flesh. “Now I remember.” He bent his head.
Not all problems were resolved that easily. The lingering issue, one that they could barely discuss, was one that Micah drove. “Your house is too small for both of us and too far away,” he complained. “My apartment is nearly next door to the coding suite and it’s bigger. Why not move in with me?”
“Because you don’t really live there,” Laura said gently. “If you live anywhere at all now, it’s with me. And where would I put my garden?”
“The garden that kills my leg to climb up to?” he asked. He had long ago strung a rope from the roof and used that to lower himself down to the floor, hand over hand. He was forced to use the ladder to climb up and even though he gave very little sign of it, Laura knew it taxed his leg. Now, he was confirming it.
They didn’t find an answer that day, or on any of the occasions when they talked about it, while the project to introduce money to the ship moved into its final phase.
Micah was an organic coder, dealing with the incredibly complex systems that were based upon human biology. The artificial intelligence programs were a result of organic coding. They mimicked human thought processes and learning techniques. Emma’s voice and personality were a result of organic coding, too.
A system of controlling credits and their exchange between ship citizens was complex, yet simple in comparison to the work Micah did every day. So, in his spare time, he built applications that would mimic money, instead.
It had been Laura’s idea to use the chips everyone had implanted in their wrists and the ship-wide Forum as a platform to support financial applications, too. “Physical money can be counterfeited and stolen, no matter how we made it. It can be physically destroyed, too,” she pointed out to Micah. “The chips can already talk to each other if they’re within the vicinity of each other, so why not store someone’s credits on their wrist chip?”
Micah had added the layer of sophistication that at first looked simple. “Everyone’s credits should be seen on the Forum as public information,” he said. “If I want to see what you’ve been using credits to buy, I should be able to go to the Forum and look.”
“Are you really going to care what I buy?” Laura asked curiously.
Promissory Note Page 12