The Roke Discovery
Page 4
Olie attempted a smile but couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. She’d worked with plenty of droids in the military, and she serviced bots at SeaCrest every day, but neither job had given her exposure to Sebanic. Sebanic were rare and expensive enough that they were only beginning to be used in operations considered exceedingly dangerous, and even then, a highly specialized droid was usually better suited for a job than a mock human.
Mona was making an effort, though. The least Olie could do was attempt the same.
“Thank you, Mona.”
“You’re welcome.”
No matter how beautiful the Sebanic were, there was still something uncanny about them. Mona’s face was perfectly symmetrical in a way no human face could ever be. Or maybe it was that she stood a bit too straight. The only flaw in her features was just how perfect they were. Olie could see why Jayson wouldn’t mind having her around.
“So has Jayson ever utilized any of your… unique services?”
“I believe many of my services are unique. And Jayson utilizes them routinely.”
“All of them?”
“I suppose not, but my services are virtually limitless.”
Who was she kidding? Of course he had. She probably would have if she were in his situation. Which was fine! Totally fine. They had broken up, after all. She had no skin in this game. Jayson could do whatever he wanted.
“I bet you make him really happy.”
“I believe so. It is my function, after all.”
Chapter Six
The next day, Olie entered the plant commissary at lunchtime. The building was a loud, cavernous area with buffet-style lines on each wall, and, between the explosion and recent deaths, the hundreds of men and women who passed through over the course of the day had plenty to talk about. The room was filled with bustling chatter that seemed to grow louder by the minute. Was everyone else afraid, too? Olie couldn’t escape the feeling that she and her coworkers were next in line for disaster.
Walking back to her usual table, Olie sat down across from Dim, a fellow technician named Aaron, and one of her supervisors, Jeni. There had already been one lively discussion about the supposed murder, and conspiracy theories were being floated about the fire as well.
SeaCrest’s desalination facility was huge, extending across miles of shoreline. Even single-digit lines like 1-3 and 7-9 were separated by a significant distance. Originally the idea was that spreading out the pumps would prevent the filtering process from affecting the overall salinity of the surrounding sea. In light of the last decade’s major sea die-offs, though, there wasn’t as much need for environmental consideration. So SeaCrest was filling in the gaps, building enough additional lines to operate at full capacity 24 hours per day.
The popular theory among the workforce was that the new facilities were the reason for the recent fiery explosion—that SeaCrest had skimped on stress-testing and caused an overload as they rushed to expand.
“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Aaron continued, shaking his head. “Those cells can fucking overheat.”
Jeni shook her head. “Power cells like ours have been safe and stable for over one hundred years. I’m telling you it’s just not possible. How many aerodrones do you hear about catching fire? And those things run non-stop.”
“It depends on how hard you push ‘em,” said Dim, stabbing a cube of tightly-packed green beans. Olie frowned at the unnatural shape.
“No, somebody did this,” Jeni replied. “And it’s only a matter of time until we know who.”
“Well, they’re not releasing any surveillance footage. That much we know.”
“And why wouldn’t they, unless there was something – or someone – to hide?” asked Jeni.
It was all getting to be a bit much for Olie. “Well, whatever it was,” she chimed in, “building 9 may not be operational again for a long time.”
“Which will put added pressure on the other lines,” added Jeni.
Aaron nodded. “And that could really wreak havoc on the power systems. It’s not safe, I’m telling you.”
But Jeni wasn’t having any of it. “The cells are safe. You have a better chance of getting hit in a car than of seeing a commercial cell explode. That is, unless it’s been tampered with.”
“It didn't explode,” said Olie.
“Oh, come on. Don’t you start on me,” Dim added.
“I heard it was the backup hydrogen tanks,” explained Olie. “The power cells just caught fire.”
“Either way.” Aaron leaned in. “We’re gonna need hazard pay in addition to that raise.”
“That’s right,” said Dim. “But that won’t happen if you don’t all support the union.”
“The DWU isn’t gonna do shit,” Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms.
“That’s not true,” said Jeni. “Desalination Workers Union has a better track record than a lot of other places. We just have to band together. The city needs SeaCrest to function, and SeaCrest needs us—they can’t afford not to negotiate.”
“The whole fucking state needs us. And a couple more states inland. At least, that’s the plan.”
Jeni nodded and looked back to Aaron. “They can’t just start offering night-shift workers twice our pay right after telling us they can’t afford a raise. We won’t take this lying down.”
“Look, I’m with you.” Aaron relented. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. But I ain’t expecting anything to change. Safer to just try and pick up a night shift myself.”
The trio started to stir, gathering up napkins and trays. Dim looked to Olie. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Olie took one last bite before standing to follow. Once outside, Olie and Dim climbed into a simple flatbed transport with two seats on the front.
“You know,” Dim said, “I noticed that you weren’t at the last DWU meeting.”
“I was busy.”
“You’re not too busy to vote on the strike, are you?”
“Oh shit. When’s the vote again?”
“Seriously, Olie, take your head out of the stratosphere for one minute and stand with us down here.”
“The stratosphere? Really, Dim?”
“You might as well be on the moon already, Olie. Admit it. You’ve got one foot out of the door… or out the airlock, I guess.”
Olie shook her head and looked away.
“Let me put it this way,” said Dim. “You’ve got a future. A really good fucking future. You can do whatever you want. I think that’s great. But before you blast off, try to remember that I’m still gonna be stuck down here with my wife and kids. Your support matters.”
“No one’s even offered me a job yet, Dim. I’m not going anywhere soon.”
“But they will,” he said. “You know that, and I know that. The fact that you spend all day patching up droids is a waste of talent, and we both know it. And all I’m trying to ask is that you lend a hand to us normal people in the meantime.”
Olie turned to her friend. “What are you talking about? I’m just like you. You work the line, I fix the droids, but we both scan in every morning.”
“No, you’re not like me. Not even a little bit. I’ve lived my entire life on this planet, and I intend to die here. You already got off once, and it’s just a matter of time before you go off again. But right now, we need you. Specifically, we need a majority of employees to vote, and a lot of them aren’t even in the union. People look up to you Olie, especially the Mars vets, I need your support.”
Olie smiled and stepped off the transport at her stop, building 7. “That was a nice speech, Dim. I didn’t need it, but I appreciate it. You could’ve just asked me to vote and I would have.”
“Well, I don’t just want you to just vote,” explained Dim as his legendary grin spread across his face. “I want you to believe.”
Dim commanded the transport to take him to building 8, leaning over his shoulder for one last exchange before going on his way.
“You know, I’
m serious when I say you’re not like me. You’re destined for bigger things, Olie.”
“Dim, enough already, you’ve got my vote. Just stay safe out there.” Olie banged her hand twice on the back of the transport and it sped away.
Chapter Seven
When Olie finally arrived home, she collapsed into her loveseat without changing out of her overalls. Flipping on the telesphere, Olie was relieved to see that reports on the SeaCrest incidents had already been replaced by coverage of rebuilding efforts on Mars. The segment was showing Mars 005, the same war-ravaged territory where Olie’s sister Ursula had passed away in one of the many mass bombings that had marked the war. As a result, the planet had found itself in need of an almost total resurrection. Widespread damage to the habitation systems had left previous infrastructural advancements in ruin. Now, military missions were solely focused on making Mars 005 capable of supporting human life again. A new fort on the territory’s perimeter was nearly finished, as were repairs on the hyperloop connecting the five U.S. territories on the red planet. Olie had served on 003 just south of a dormant volcano, Olympus Mons.
On Mars, their bunks had been cramped spaces that resembled living quarters on a nuclear submarine. It was in a fort like the one on the telesphere that Olie had spent most of her off hours watching videos of her father and sister on repeat. At that time, she had hoped that her sister would be proud of her—she still did. Her father’s feelings had been less ambiguous and more clearly oppositional, though. She still remembered the disgust in his voice when she’d called her father to tell him about signing up for Mars.
“Olivia, I’m telling you that this is a mistake. Don’t do this to me,” her father had said, going so far as to finally ending the video call with his daughter when Olie wouldn’t agree to canceling her mission. She had always dreamt of going to space. The planet needed her. Nothing and no one could have quelled the pride she’d felt when she showed up at her fort all those years ago.
Months into her mission, Olie was beginning to think maybe her father had been right. She took great satisfaction in her military service but returned to the bunks each night feeling like she had the weight of Mars on her. One night, after an especially draining day of patrols, Olie entered the fort to find her fellow soldiers engaging in drunken celebration. The troop was being called home, the platoon’s mission having been declared a major success. At the very center of the celebrations was Jayson Belsey, his confidence and positivity practically an axis around which the party gravitated. As he took a long pull from a bottle of Hard20, he looked over at Olie and raised an eyebrow cockily. She took in his assuredness, the way he led the whole room, and smiled.
Their remaining months on Mars went quickly, but Olie and Jayson grew inseparable. She loved his confidence and he loved her rebellious streak; what had scared her exes away was what Jayson respected about her. Olie had always thought maybe they could’ve worked out if their send off hadn’t come so soon.
Jayson was dispatched first, but they’d still planned on picking up where they left when they both got back to Earth. A whole new world of firsts to share. Olie couldn’t have known that her father would die while she was in hypersleep on her 10-month flight home. Nor could she have known how significantly that would change the way she saw her home planet. As soon as she arrived, all she could think about was leaving again.
Jayson hadn’t wanted to leave Earth again, but he had understood. Still, that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been enough to keep her there. Olie felt guilty for promising a life she couldn’t provide, but it didn’t stop her desire to return to the stars.
The adnews moved on to details of a destructive wildfire in Colorado, one of the few western states that was still moderately forested. Olie stood and went into her bathroom and climbed into the shower. She was lucky to have regular shower usage, and she knew it. It was one of the only perks of working at the plant – her monthly allotted water footprint was drastically increased because she worked for SeaCrest. As the water rolled off her back, she wished it would take some of her stress and uncertainty with it. Especially when it came to Jayson. She’d been so careful, and there he was, back in her life again.
Moving back into the kitchen, Olie stooped to take another look at Gerry. Unless she was mistaken, it seemed that the little animal was no longer quite so small. He’d grown—not too much, but enough so that it was noticeable. Olie frowned as she removed the top from the jar and reached inside. Gerry was balled up as usual. When she held him in her hand the change was undeniable. He’d gone from the size of a lime to the size of a softball. Maybe he’d been emaciated before and her feeding was bulking him up.
Olie put Gerry back into his jar and started to make dinner. Dehydrated meats were still making her queasy, so she opted for a soy bar and vegetable pudding instead.
“Want some, bud?”
Olie dropped a cube of soy into Gerry’s jar. The creature jumped on top of it as soon as it hit the bottom. When he ate, his movements shifted to something distinctly spider-like.
“What are you, Gerry?”
As strange as he was, it was nice having a “pet” again. Her family had been able to afford a gerbil when she was a child, but today even a pet rodent was a luxury only the hyper-rich could afford. Sure, Gerry could be some kind of mutant for all she knew, but she was lonely. Especially after cutting Jayson out of her life. Well, trying to, anyway.
Finishing her pudding, Olie spooned what was left into Gerry’s terrarium, some of the broccoli gelatin landing on his back. He tried desperately to reach it, but to no avail.
“Oops. Sorry. Lemme get that.”
Olie reached in, using her finger to clean the food off his back. As she did so, Gerry swiftly leapt up on his hind legs and lunged, clamping down on the finger with his tiny teeth.
“Fuck!”
Olie jerked back her hand, knocking the jar over. Barely saving it from falling to the tile floor, she placed the top back on slightly ajar. She still wasn’t sure if the animal breathed like she did or even needed oxygen at all.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch. Gerry! Bad!”
There was blood on the table and the floor. Olie moved to the sink as crimson drops fell inside. After running water over the wound for several minutes, Olie looked back to the creature. He was back in the corner, greedily sucking down the leftover pudding.
“No. We don’t bite, Gerry. Jeez…”
Pulling on her forefinger to see how deep the cut went, Olie was surprised by the sheer number of wounds. They weren’t deep, but a series of thin incisions that ran across her skin, puncturing even her fingernail.
Olie found some liquid skin in her first aid kit and painted it on. By the time she returned to the jar, Gerry had eaten everything and fallen back to sleep. As weird as he looked, she couldn’t help but find him compelling.
“No petting while feeding. Noted.”
The bite also made her think of her childhood pet, the small gerbil named Ralph. He was docile from all the cloned genes but feeding time had always brought out the most energy in him. But Gerry wasn’t a gerbil. And he wasn’t her pet. He was a potentially important scientific discovery. She had to remember that.
Chapter Eight
Olie fed Gerry with considerably more caution the following morning before sucking down a caffeine gel pack and going through her daily workout. All this before showering and preparing her breakfast prior to work.
Jayson said that her ritualistic adherence to her schedule was obsessive. Her mind flitted to memories of those early mornings where she’d leave Jayson in bed to go jogging. Even when he begged her to take a day off and sleep in with him, she couldn’t do it. Olie couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to take advantage of the ability to run freely across a planet’s surface—even if it was mostly scorched. After four years of running on Martian treadmills, jogging by the ocean was a true luxury. She was determined to soak up as much as she could before climbing back on an interstellar vessel.
The ride to the SeaCrest facility took about thirty minutes. Olie could have looked for a place closer to work, but then she would have been robbed of the opportunity to drive. She’d modified her motorcycle to disable the autopilot, and the rush she felt driving on her own was worth all the fines. After years of working on droids as an AI technician, reprogramming a vehicle had been a snap.
After parking her bike, she removed her helmet and let a droid check her into SeaCrest Systems. Olie was a bit early, but she liked having the space to herself for a bit—a calm before the storm of the day’s demands. The sound of the humming motors and swirling seawater was barely audible outside of the line buildings, and sometimes she’d simply stare into the large pools of desalinated water outside the buildings, ruminating on the day ahead.
Eventually the rest of the team arrived and Olie rode the transport with them to building 7. The wind funneled through the corridors of the SeaCrest buildings, sometimes gusting as they went. The sun was at her back, and Olie could see the tanks and piping systems through intermittent windows.
Stepping through the glass doors of building 7, she went to awaken the droids. She moved past an enormous intake valve and a series of pipes that were as wide in diameter as she was tall. Black electrical lines snaked along these larger pipes, and main lines emptied into a massive tank to begin the actual desalination process. The tank was an upturned bean-shaped unit that was as massive as a commercial-sized drone and just as wide.
On a typical day, the droids were always lined up and charging along the far wall of the pump house, but as Olie came upon the area where they should have been, she saw, to her surprise, that they weren’t there.