by Tal Turing
James made some polite conversation before, finally, asking the question that brought him there.
“They broke the team up after you both left, can't have a team with only two people. So is Cynnamon around?”
“Cyn?”
There was silence. James had pressed the point perhaps too quickly. But if he back burnered it too long, they might be suspicious. It was natural he would ask.
“Cynnamon CC344F...” Trent trailed off, “why would you ask me about her. Why should I even care.”
“We can't find her. Neither Carla or myself. I didn't know but apparently Carla and Cyn were close. And...how do I say it...the commissions are crap after you guys left.” There, he had played the Carla card.
“Yessssss”
The face plate went blank and James waited, and began to recite a childhood story in his mind. Something to keep his relaxed. He raised one eyebrow and then he prodded his old friend.
“So, have you seen her?”
The face plate remained blank, a curved mirror, but Trent's voice returned.
“I was with her...I was to bring her to Daneel, to give her to them. She didn't know. The last I saw of her she was walking up to some of their agents.
I got nervous. Some of them were coming toward me and it was dark and confusing. And she was singing. It was too strange, I turned and left. Obviously I never made it.”
“Can I speak with her as well?” James started, knowing he might be bluffing too hard.
“Afterwards, not right away, after I had gotten over the transition, I did look for her. But I couldn't find her..and there was so much to learn, to do, to see. I forgot.”
The thing before James was silent now, still holding the 'defective' device in its hands.
“It's okay if you don't know what happened to her...but I had to ask...” James continued and then shuddered when a very different voice came back.
“We will tell you only so much James D3T12. We understand your concern for a missing colleague but there are limits to our sympathies. Your friend is not here, we gave her a choice to join us and we honored her decision. You can considerate that a sign of our goodwill and hopes that our relationship with Transom will be strengthened rather than weakened as a result. As for the location of the asset CC34F, we believe she has left the city. You should consult with your own leadership if you want more on her. We will tell you nothing else.”
Redemption Pass
It was called a 'Pass' and there were multiple types offered by the Daneel Collective to the members of its hive. All passes allowed a member to, temporarily, put aside the goals of the whole and pursue individual needs. There was a family pass to care for relatives outside of the collective. There was a personal pass which could be used for private reasons. Finally, there was the redemption pass, the only kind encouraged, defined and assigned by the collective itself. For Trent, it would be his first pass of any kind in his relatively short time inside the collective.
He received the assignment immediately after his visit from James and he naturally accepted it right away, not that he had a choice. But he approached it with uncharacteristic enthusiasm and energy, despite the subject of the task, because one day he would request a personal pass and if the collective was pleased with him, it might be granted. There was someone he wanted to speak with...but he would have to wait for that.
As for this mission, he couldn't see why the collective had any interest in Cyn at all except that probably they regretted not taking her when they had the chance. If they had thought that she could be used to leverage Transom Industries further, they would learn how little Transom valued its assets.
But, he was not threatened by their interest in her either. Recruiting was a priority for the collective and it was especially difficult for them as an entrance requirement was the removal of a large fraction of the human's face and skull in order to mount the bio-relay device. The idea was especially odious to the vanity of even the most intelligent female, yet another reason they should snapped her up when they had the chance.
Fortunately for the hive, most of the populations of Las Joyas still did not realize the reason for the face plates, they still thought it was a gimmick of some sort. He couldn't help but imagine the scene, meeting his old friend Cynnamon again, and watching the look on her face when she saw what was behind his face plate. That would wipe that calm smile off her face. He knew he shouldn't think that way, but he laughed at the thought.
At first Trent believed he would need to travel to New Berlyn for this assignment. That just proved to him how much he still had to learn, that he needed to change his ways of thinking. There was no need for his body to leave Techview, but moving between aspects was not a trivial procedure, not yet. It would actually be the most time-consuming portion of his assignment – transferring to a New Berlyn aspect.
Hospie
Cynnamon
Her AI woke her up, the black spectacles still on her face. Her body was sore and her elbows and knees yearned for relief from the cramped position. Slowly, she started the process of unfolding her body from the storage closet where she had hid herself for the night.
Thankfully, none of the building assets had needed to fetch linen or else they might have found her, she thought as she opened the door and first limped then walked the damp, service corridors back to her room. She slipped in quietly and turned her attention to the notification which had woken her; it was an assignment, actually a reassignment.
No! She had been assigned to hospitality services for the day. She sighed and sank onto the bed even as she realized there was not much time, years of asset life made her adverse to assignment penalties and tardiness could trigger one. There would be no time to check in at the Operations office, she would have to do that while on break.
As she hurried for the kitchens, she considered the irony. When she had first joined Transom, they had taken one look at her and pegged her for hospitality. And for that reason they sent her to Techview, where they washed her out as a hospie and sent her to Ops. Now she was back only to be reassigned back to hospitality. The corporate game was not to take away dreams but to lift them high and dash them hard.
On Break
“Hi Pur,” Cyn smiled weakly as she removed her kitchen cap and slipped up to the information desk. Pur was back at the cards again and had them laid out in front of her in a diamond pattern. “Want to tell my fortune for me? I could use some help.”
The young girl looked up and gave Cyn a smile.
“Hi Cynnamon. Well, I already saw you wearing the kitchen cap, so I don't have to be psychic to know what you were doing today. Why are you working in the kitchen? I thought you were ops?”
“Good question, but I am mostly interested in the future. How about it?”
“Okay!” the young girl said enthusiastically. “Let's try it out. Choose two cards from the deck. I'll do a mini fortune for you, the first card will represent your current environment and the second is a peek at your future.”
Cyn grasped at a card but Pur waved her off.
“Cyn! Don't just pick cards, think about your future first and then choose.”
Cyn nodded, closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep, and reached, her fingers slipping across the desk toward the spread deck of cards, teasing first one and then a second card from the pile. She opened her eyes as Pur flipped one over.
Cyn burst out laughing and then groaned, looking helplessly at Pur who stared intently at what had been revealed. “Is this supposed to be me?”
The picture depicted a nearly-nude woman with long, raven tresses in a light frock, standing near a plain, wooden cot to which her ankle had been chained.
Cyn lifted her hand dramatically and held it to her face.
Pur did not look up.
“Shhhh! Okay, that card is called 'The Harlot' but it's not what you think, well not always. Anyway, yes she is chained to a bed, but do you see what is hanging from her necklace? That is a key, right? A key with a sharp tip! It m
ight be used as a weapon or to unlock her chains or it might be a key to something else, something unknown...do you see?”
Cyn stopped smiling and adopted Pur's look of concentration.
“Okay, tell me more.”
“She is bound but she has choices, yes? There are ways out within her grasp, see? The Harlot can represent one who can conquer from a point of weakness, who holds the keys to her own destiny.”
“I understand, thank you, I actually feel better now,” Cyn nodded, genuinely interested. “What about my future?”
The next card was flipped over. It showed a great, majestic tree with a huge trunk and many thick, full branches as well as a full canopy of large leaves and fruits of various kinds. But the trunk was split asunder by a thunder bolt, charring its bark black and setting fire to its leaves.
“Is it bad?,” Cyn asked.
“Perhaps, 'The Strike' is a powerful card; it is unyielding, undeterred judgment and once started can not be easily stopped. It may represent a transition for you but also for those around you. It is change, violent change.
Coupled with the previous card I would say that you are the instigator, the instrument of some one's or some thing's destruction. Be careful, Miss Cynnamon, things that you start may run out of your control.”
“That is very helpful and I very impressed! Thank you Pur!” Cyn smiled.
Pur looked up at her, beaming. “Wow, that is the coolest fortune I have ever told!”
“Well, how many have you done?” prodded Cyn.
“I would say about ten, but I need to study more, I don't want to miss any of the meanings, you know?”
“Hey, are you hungry? I've been making swamp vegetable stew, it came out alright but we don't have enough orders so it will just be thrown out.”
“Well, I have some lunch but that sounds good!” admitted Pur. “ Hey, do they call it 'swamp stew' on the menu?”
“Not in a corporate establishment!” laughed Cynnamon. “They call it Valley Soup.”
The Faceless Woman
“This is your second efficiency penalty, asset,” the manager of Transom House Dining Services pointed out with a sigh and an overly theatrical look of pain on his face.
“I am receiving a demerit for arriving too early this morning?” Cynnamon asked calmly even as she adjusted her work smock after her twenty minute lunch.
But she had not eaten a crumb; instead she had run to the Transom Operations wing and begged for someone to take her report or to schedule an interview. They refused, noting that she was not a member of operations and that she should raise the issue though her current assignment branch.
“Of course,” the man explained. “Opening the facility early is an unnecessary and unauthorized expenditure of energy or resources. Who will pay for that? Should it be your fellow workers, or myself?”
“I need an interview with operations. As you are my current manager, I need you to arrange that.”
“Operations has no say in your commissions or your penalties over here,” he smiled with satisfaction.
“It is not about the penalty; this is a different topic - I have an issue which involves possible reputational risk to the company.”
“What? What the hell would you know about anything like that.”
“I told you, I am...I was in ops. As my manager, you are supposed to handle my request for me...”
“I am NOT taking table five,” Marg complained as she stormed into the office. “Why is anyone even sitting in there? Shouldn't that room be closed off? Almost everyone is sitting out by the pool. It is much too warm to be inside.”
“I'll take it,” Cynnamon agreed. She didn't want a confrontation, she had applied the pressure needed, now she had a better chance of getting what she wanted if she walked away from the man. “I'm ready for another table. I even got a tip from the last one.”
“Well, fine,” Marg called after her, “just be ready to be creeped out when you see what is sitting there.”
Alerted by her co-worker's comment, Cynnamon scouted the dining room from afar. As Marg had stated, most of the customers were out back, but there was an older woman, her back hunched, sitting alone at a table. Her hair was long and silvery and as Cyn approached she could see the shiny curve of a face plate.
It was curious to Cynnamon how Daneel Tech could be such an intricate part of domer life and yet how seldom one would see their employees, especially in the last year since they had taken to wearing the face plates. Cyn was one of the few who realized that there was good reason to wear those masks.
“I'm sorry for the wait, I didn't know this room was open, I can serve you here or I can get you a table out on the porch, it's a bit cooler there,” Cyn offered, a long, denim skirt flapping against her knees as she moved around to face the woman.
“I prefer the warmth and I don't need the company,” the woman said simply and Cyn kept her expression neutral as she finally could see the woman's face plate. But now a face was projected onto the surface, that of a middle-aged woman with smooth bright skin that contrasted with the ruddy and wrinkled skin of the woman's throat and neck. Cyn did not hold the apparent vanity against her.
“Of course, what can I get you?” Cyn smiled, genuinely happy to meet another member of the collective. Would this woman recognize her?”
“I would love a baked root pear, with a bit of molasses,” the woman said pensively.
“Of course, that dish is normally served in a bowl with a spoon...is that...well would that work for you?”
Cyn had only spoken with Daneel agents before. She had never seen one eat or drink. Would they need to remove the mask to do so? Could they? Why didn't she know this? She scolded herself.
The thin lips frowned and then brightened again.
“Yes, I would need it pureed and with a straw instead, if it isn't too much trouble?”
“I'd be delighted to get that for you. Anything to drink? Some water?”
“We actually don't drink water, it is too thin, in case you want to know. The softened pear will be enough,” the woman replied.
“I'll be back soon,” Cyn promised. She returned to the counter and entered the order making sure the order hospie understood the special preparation which was needed. Then she hurried to attend her other tables and hopefully close some out.
“Pureed root pear with molasses and a straw, right?” Cyn checked when she picked up the order. The hospie confirmed and she brought it out. But when the cover was lifted, it was a normal root pear, no molasses. And a useless straw.
“I'm so sorry!” Cyn exclaimed, she could feel her face flushing.
“I can prepare it,” the faceless woman assured her. “Please fetch me the molasses and a spoon...”
“Please let me take care of it. I'll be right back!” Cyn said as she snatched the tray back and stormed toward the kitchen. She did not stop at the counter, rather she pushed into the galley, her brown eyes flashed streaks of gold as she descended on the hospie who had prepared the order. His eyes dropped to her tray and he started to smile but his face fell when she pushed the tray onto him, it clattered to the ground, the bowl spilling its contents over the floor and his legs.
“I told you this order needed special prep, right? I told you why. And you intentionally botched it!”
“Hey! What is the problem!” the asset protested, his face turning red.
“Keep away from me,” Cyn spat, “I'll do this order myself.” and with that she pulled a cooked pear from one of the ovens and placed it in a machine. The kitchen was quiet except for the squeal of the food processor and then, gradually, the workers returned to their duties.
Cyn worked quickly preparing the mixture and a new tray. She was almost finished when the manager walked up to her.
“What was that all about?” he asked, anger hiding in the folds of his voice.
“You tell me,” Cyn replied, her eyes on her work, “we had a special order from a representative of a priority-listed corp. And we messed it up.”
“Then you should have checked it,” he replied coolly.
Cyn didn't look up but spoke as she finished the order.
“You know she is Daneel, right? So that little screw up just got broadcast to each and every one of them. So what do you want them to see next?”
The man was silent as she covered the plate and hoisted the tray into the air.
“Fine. Apologize, refund the customer's meal, and tell me if you need anything else,” the manager barked and walked off.
When Cyn returned to the dining room, she apologized again, and presented the new order and informed her there would be no charge. The woman smiled politely and Cyn left her to her lunch. She would have wanted to take a look, to see how the woman used the straw, but she decided it was rude to watch a patron eat.
Once the woman seemed to be finished, Cyn attempted some conversation.
“I met a Daneel agent recently. He said he was from ROB and so I called him Robbie, he didn't seem to mind. Was I improper?”
The mirrored mask inexplicably transitioned into a new face, laughing blue eyes, stringy red hair.
“Robbie? That is cute. They would be the ROB aspect...Techview. My aspect is DRO, I don't imagine that name lends itself to any pet names. I am sure they did not mind. We know the whole aspect thing is confusing. Should I explain?”
Cyn looked down into the blue eyes digitally formed on the face plate and as she did so, the face around it changed. A male now with the same eyes.
“Would you? If it is no trouble...”
“We are delighted,” the young man spoke in earnest. “The Daneel vision is to allow mankind to share experiences, whether they be sights, sounds, feelings or even thoughts, in real time, without delay. But even we admit that we do not yet have the ability to fully realize our own dream.
But we are able to share some of what we experience with some, not all, of our colleagues. We use the word 'aspect' to mean a group of us which are actively sharing. My aspect is named DRO. You met someone from ROB.”