Microstory 2467: Tagdome

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This is a funny one. It’s several giant games of tag, each one made up of a lot of other subdivisions of tag. You can come in here with just about any substrate you want, but you’ll be grouped according to strength and speed. We can’t have superstrong mechs barreling through normal organics, now can we? There aren’t too many of what they generally call weight classes, but you stay in your respective sectors, and don’t interact with the others. But you do interact with everyone else in your sector. That sector is further divided into regions, zones, districts, territories, and neighborhoods. I honestly couldn’t tell you how they decide where you’re assigned beyond the weight class for fairness. But whatever it is, the divisions are based upon the modern standardized Dunbar grouping system. Your neighborhood will have 21 people total, which is a fairly normal and manageable number of contestants to contend with. You will ultimately compete with other neighborhoods. Seven neighborhoods makes a territory of 147 people. There are three territories in a district of 441 people, then four districts in each zone of 1,764, and four zones in each region of 7,056 players. Finally, there are seven regions in the whole sector. Sorry if that was confusing, but this game is confusing, by its nature. The best players are the ones who can figure it out. How about gameplay? You play a simple game of tag in your neighborhood for some period of time, based on your sector’s weight class. Higher classes theoretically have more stamina, and can go for longer. Don’t worry about those. Only consider your own. We’ll use the example of a normal organic human sector, which is only expected to play for half an hour. As you play against each other, your points start racking up. The longer you avoid becoming a Pursuer, the more points you end up with, and the longer you are the Pursuer, the more points you lose. At the end of your neighborhood’s allotted time, your points will be tallied up. It’s entirely possible that the entire game only ever had one Pursuer who never managed to catch anybody. That’s okay. They’re always watching you. Some people got closer to being caught than others. There will be leaders on the leaderboard, who will move on to compete at the territory level. The top seven will represent their neighborhood in a game of 49 players and begin to run as a team. Things start getting more complicated here as you can work together to build enough points to open gates to other territories. If you invade them, you can get in on their game as an opposing force, and start taking away their points while making some more of your own. The games get progressively more complicated, with more intricate environments, obstacles, and even vehicles like bikes and cars. Everyone wears special clothing, which color-coordinates the teams and alliances in realtime, but it’s not uncommon to get lost and confused. That’s part of the game, and your intelligence is factored into those weight classes I was telling you about. I know this was less of a review, and more of an overview, but I don’t really want to give you my opinion. I want you to see it for yourself. If you’re not much of a runner, or you don’t feel ready for the competition, there is a spectator component, so you can just check it out to get a better sense of what I’ve been talking about.

Extremus: Year 59

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It’s happening. Attic Forest is this close to becoming a real thing. It has been a grueling year and a half, but Tinaya and Lilian managed to amass enough support to get approval to build it. The Resource Allocation Authority was not easy on them, and put up every roadblock they could come up with. The two of them were required to include in their proposal every little detail, right down to every individual plant in its individual location, to the size of the screws that would be used for the ventilation grate that was in the portside corner with the stern. Even then, they weren’t allowed to just go do it unless they proved that the people of the ship actually wanted it. Well, it wasn’t the kind of thing that could be left to a popular vote. The level of support they were receiving for it was so subjective, and at the mercy of other people’s interpretation. They did interviews for the newspaper, and went on talk shows. Tinaya was more in charge of all that, since Lilian didn’t like the attention, but that was okay, because that was how they sold the story. Lilian was the genius behind the design. Tinaya was the face. They made it work.

Not everyone is as jazzed about this as they are, of course, but there are no unambiguous detractors. Captain Tamm has made a point of staying out of it. He claims that this is a matter for the civilians, and the civilian government, but that’s just political posturing. It’s a waste of his political energy too. He still lives on this ship, and could support it on a personal level. He’s trying to play both sides, even though there aren’t really two sides to the issue. There’s little opposition to it; mostly people who don’t care, or don’t think it’s necessary. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s guaranteed the captaincy for the duration of his shift, unless he does something to lose the faith of the crew, government, or passengers. It’s not like he should be worried about reëlection. It’s ‘cause he’s an idiot. There’s no better way to describe it.

“Thank you, and welcome back. I’m your host, Zorion Azarola, and this...is Over the Desk.” This is one of those talk shows now. Zorion Azarola is known for his stoic and serious demeanor while he lobs his guests softball questions. Exactly what his gimmick is here, no one really understands. Maybe he thinks he hits harder than he actually does, or maybe it’s all one big joke. Either way, this is their final unofficial hurdle before the  vote. Once it passes, construction can begin on the forest, and tonight is their last chance to convince the committee. That’s why Lilian is here.

Unlike other shows of this type, the view never switches to different angles, and the blocking is very simple. That’s partially because there is no crew to speak of. The apparent idea is to be raw and sincere. The camera is on a tripod, pointing straight forward from the edge of the desk. Zorion is on one side, and up to two guests can sit at his opposite. It’s been dressed up like an office, but the books on the shelves are fake, and the knick knacks scattered about likely hold no sentimental value to Zorion. He must think of himself as the college advisor type, and the guests as his students, who he’s trying to help reach their potential. Tinaya has decided to play into it. Lilian has decided to sit there like a block of ice. She really struggles with these things.

“Captain Leithe,” he begins. “Can I call you Captain Leithe?”

This would normally be the time where she replies with an absolutely not, and a little bit of attitude, but she has to look like a saint here; a saint who can play ball. Everyone is amazing, and all of the things they say are good, and not stupid. So what would be the most polite way to word this? “It is an inaccurate, and inappropriate, title at this time. Captain Tamm is the Captain. I am a Junior Forest Guide.” That’s a new title that they came up with, which won’t be entirely accurate either until there’s an actual forest through which to guide visitors, but it’s fine.

“All right, Guide Leithe. How excited are you that this measure is about to pass?”

“I’m very excited to see this project come to fruition. It has been a long road to get here, and I feel lucky to be a part of it. And that’s what I am, a part. If I owned the whole ship, I could do whatever I wanted, but we’re all living here, and none of this would be possible if the people didn’t want it. It’s important to note that the measure has not quite passed yet. The committee is yet to vote. We’re confident in the outcome, but whatever it is, we will respect their decision, because we trust their judgment.”

“Yes, the...” Zorion stops to check his notes, or at least pretend that he is. “The Committee for Special Projects. That’s a new one, right?”

“Yes, it’s composed of government leaders, respected community leaders, and a few crewmembers. I was not the least bit involved in creating it. Obviously, it would be a conflict of interest for me. So if you have any further questions regarding the matter, I’m afraid you’ll have to call some else into your office.” She said it with a smile to keep it light. But really, she’s annoyed, because people do ask her a lot of questions about the committee, as if she’s some expert on them just because she and Lilian are the ones whose request triggered its creation. What she just told Zorion is the result of her cursory research into the subject, and she refuses to compound it with further information. It’s not her job to know, or care.”

“Fair enough,” he replies with a polite smile as well, and a mildly defensive hand gesture. He flips through his notecards, which are made of paper. Paper is made out of the wood of trees. It’s this whole process that Extremusians have never used, but recent events have changed things. Out here in the void, stars are few and far between. They do exist. Despite what some believe, intergalactic voids are not totally empty. There are probably about as many celestial objects in them as there are within the boundaries of galaxies. It’s just that the voids are so much more vast, these objects are so spread out, and difficult to find. This is why Captain Halan Yenant knew that changing course into the void was not damning his descendants to the curse of never finding a home. It’s out here, somewhere; most people still believe that. But still, it’s impossible to know for sure, especially since—even before they started heading into the void—they had not found any habitable planets along their journey. This all changed last year.

In order to maintain the ship and its systems, the engineers send automated probes to star systems as they pass by them. Since Extremus literally never stops, the only way to make use of the data and resources found in these systems is to send the probes into the past, so that they’re actually waiting for them a minute or two after departing. They don’t have to do this all the time. In fact, the original designers tried to plan a trip that would require no side missions at all. But it was necessary to come up with a solution to a problem once, and now that they know they can do it, resources are being taken for granted, forcing them to continue doing it every once in a while. Now they send probes all the time, but usually for different purposes. The majority of them are simply cataloging what they’ve found. The discovery of a world with plantlife was the biggest shocker since Admiral Olindse Belo’s disappearance a quarter century ago.

Tinaya doesn’t have all the details, because she is not yet part of the group of people making decisions about this sort of thing, but the public was made aware of the discovery when it happened. And it was also shown samples of the plants they found, which an entirely different department from Lilian’s is handling. One thing they’ve done with their samples is manufacture paper. It’s a luxury that requires an extremely high contribution score to earn. Hosting a broadcast series is one of those things that can keep your score high enough for such luxuries, though, which explains why Zorion is making use of his stash of physical paper. Obviously Tinaya couldn’t care less about paper, but she’s interested in a day when the plants they found on that planet might one day become part of hers and Lilian’s forest. That would make the accomplishment all the sweeter.

He finishes flipping through the notecards. “Sorry about that, I’ve realized that a lot of the questions I was planning to ask you have already been answered.” He pauses for a moment. “Or at least they’ve been asked.”

Oh, no. Where is this going? He’s not wrong. She’s answered the same questions in these interviews multiple times, and it’s become annoying for her, but he’s the first interviewer to express any concern over it. How can she stop him from asking whatever he thinks he should ask her? “I suppose...” She trails off, but makes it clear that she’s not finished with her thought. She just needs to find the words. “It’s just...what’s happening here is quite simple. Parks and forests promote a healthy and satisfying life. All studies from Earth, its neighboring orbitals, and its colonies in the stellar neighborhood, have proven time and time again that stone, metal, and metamaterials just. Don’t. Cut it. Life wants to be around other life. It is a biological imperative, and regardless of what we have been forced to endure in our history, on Ansutah, in the cylinders, and yes, even on Extremus...we are still human. All life naturally evolved to thrive on Earth. Except for those aliens plants we found, I guess...and the ones on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. Earth is positively brimming with life. And that second exception only proves the point, because it’s just another example of how it works. Life craves life.

“It’s not so much that Lilian and I want this project to go through. It’s that the Extremusians need it. You will be so happy when you get to go there for the first time. Your brain will release chemicals that will make your heart and soul feel good. You’ll feel human again, and that may be hard to beehive now, because you don’t know you’re missing yet. But it will be there. Your life will improve, I promise you that. Everyone who lives on this ship will be that much happier for it...until we find our Promised Land on our ultimate destination. We’re not on our way to find some rock in the middle of nowhere, are we? Who needs that? We can find that anywhere. Who gives a shit how far from Gatewood we’ve flown? We’ve always been looking for the forest. We’ve always been looking for life. All we’re doing is...letting those of us who will not be alive to see the Extremus planet get just a small taste of what our descendants will know and love.” Tinaya turns to face the camera, which Zorion discourages, but this is too important. “For the members of the committee who are watching this, there is only one choice here. If Extremus doesn’t get its forest, it will die. I’m not just talking about contribution scores. Our success as a people; our mission...depends on it. If you don’t believe me, just go to the park that we do have. Multiply the feeling you get by a thousand.”

“Wow,” Zorion said. “Well said, Junior Forest Guide Leithe.”

“She’s a Senior Forest Guide, Mr. Azarola,” Lilian said after being silent this entire time.”

“Well.” He takes a breath. “I believe this is a good time for a break. We’ll return with our next guest soon.” With a smile, he lifts his remote, and switches off the camera.

The next day, the vote passes. Project Attic Forest is a go.

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Extremus: Year 58

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Lilian Diamond’s job in the government is neither glamorous, nor revered. By most, it’s considered unimportant, and even a waste of space and resources. But it actually is important, and it deserves a lot more respect. Extremus is made of metal and metamaterials. For half a moment, the original designers considered going extremely creative, and making it organic, but they decided against that. They didn’t know at the time that the temporal engineer would come up with a way to repair the ship with time traveling shuttles, but even if they had, finding organic material out here in the galaxy would have proven difficult at best. A lot of people who came aboard could remember living on Ansutah, which was—though not lifeless—sparse with flora. It had just about  no fauna besides the humans and the Maramon. The humans survived by farming and harvesting what few edible plants there were. It’s a wonder they survived, but however they did, they seemed to never develop an appreciation for wildlife.

This mentality carried over into this universe, where they lived in gigantic rotating habitats. The majority of such cylinders are planned with plenty of forests and parks. And why shouldn’t they be? The climate can be controlled perfectly. As long as water is handled correctly, there’s never any drought, or hurricanes, or blight. Being in nature is easier in a place like that. But the four cylinders that the Ansutahan humans lived could not afford to waste space on these luxuries. They have to house billions of people in the most efficient way possible. There are rooftop gardens, but most of them have died, because no one tended to them, because they don’t care. This mentality was carried over again to Extremus. Space is dedicated to housing, and food production. The latter is green, but it isn’t beautiful. Once again, it was made to be efficient, and not worthy of visiting. They simply could not have installed anything larger than a small park, which almost no one ever visits. Lilian’s daily responsibilities mostly involve lobbying for more park space, and encouraging residents to visit the one that they have. It is a lot of work for nearly no gain. But what could they do?

“I have an idea,” Tinaya says.

“Let’s hear it,” Lilian replies

Tinaya has been Lilian’s assistant for months now, writing up proposal after proposal, and making sure the park stays alive in this pretty hostile environment. They’re the only two people who work in the park, and it’s almost not worth it. A few people do come; the regulars, they call them. They’re outliers who actually do appreciate green spaces. But they are pretty much the only people this park can accommodate. This is the dilemma that Lilian faces. She wants more people to come enjoy it, but they can’t all do that. Maybe if more people were interested, she would be able to convince her superiors to dedicate more space to greenery, but which comes first, and how does this work? There’s plenty of room on this ship right now, but in 150 years, they’ll be reaching capacity, because they’re supposed to be nearing their destination. “Expansion.”

“Expansion, how?”

“Let’s make the ship bigger. You keep asking for a second park at the edge of the presently uninhabited section, or a few other spots. Have you ever thought about asking to build an entirely new section on the back of the ship?”

“Is that even possible?” Lilian questions.

“Absolutely, it’s possible. Before either of us was even born, a devastating micrometeoroid strike destroyed almost the whole engineering section. They rebuilt it, which means that they could do that again, but instead of a rebuild, it would just be a first build. I’ve been working on some designs that I didn’t want to bring to you until I was satisfied with them. I think my best one is a forest that spans the entire length and breadth of Extremus, right on top of what’s currently the top level.” She turns her tablet to show Lilian what she’s come up with.

Lilian turns her head away instinctively. “I’ve been asking for another little park for years. It would, at worst, prevent three families from being able to move in over a hundred years from now. Now you want me to multiply that by...honestly, I don’t know how big the ship is, but that sounds...crazy, right? It’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t halt the population growth at all. In fact, it would promote it. You’re the one who’s always talking about the mental health benefits of having access to forestland. Our ancestors understood that, and if they didn’t have powers, patterns, or afflictions that they had to get rid of, they never would have gone to the desolate deathlands that was Ansutah. They just had no choice.”

“We wouldn’t have existed if they hadn’t done that.”

“I know. For centuries, our people have lived in stone and dirt and metal. We have the chance to change that. I believe in the mission as much as the next girl, but what are we waiting for? None of us is going to be alive to see the Extremus planet. We’re just...incubators, here to protect the future peoples who will enjoy the fruits of our labor. But that doesn’t mean that we have to suffer. Why not build a giant forest on the roof? Why not plant a thousand trees to sit under and daydream? Why limit ourselves to one park that no one goes to?”

“Exactly. No one comes here, so what makes you think they’re going to come to this hypothetical indoor forest?”

“Because they’ll be the ones who built it.”

“I don’t understand. Why would anyone have to build anything? That’s why we have robots.”

Tinaya swipes over to a different app. “I’ve been...seeing someone who works for the citizenry administrator.”

Lilian smirks. “Tinaya Leithe, are you in love?”

“Stop. It’s not that big a deal. We mostly talk about work, and he showed me some stats.”

Now Lilian accepts the tablet. “What am I looking at here?”

“You and I met because I was having trouble with my contribution score. As it turns out, I’m not the only one. They’re all going down. Everyone’s fine, everyone’s alive, but they’re not working, and they’re not enjoying life.”

“Hmm.”

“The civilian government has almost been cut in half since Extremus launched. Half! And the population has been rising, like it’s supposed to. Well, I mean, it’s actually a little slower than they predicted, but that’s why we need mental health programs, like the attic forest. I just now decided to call it an attic, instead of a roof. That makes more sense. Anyway, people need jobs. They don’t need them, but they need them.”

“Yeah, my brother just had to let someone go because the spa doesn’t get as many visits as it once did, which means her score also went down...assuming this is why there’s been a drop in patronage.”

“Lilian, the government isn’t supporting the people, and the people aren’t supporting the government. Nando thinks—”

“Nando? His name is Nando? Do I know this Nando?”

“No. He thinks this is the start of a huge problem. Because take a look at this one.” She reaches over, and swipes the tablet for her. “There was a suicide last year.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Now, you can’t multiply by zero, so there’s no real number that tells us how much the suicide rate has gone up. The percentage of increase from zero to one is undefined. But mathematically, it’s an increase to infinity, because it’s the first one we’ve ever had. And it’s because of a general decline in mental health. It—it..it could just be the first of many. We need the forest more than ever, and we need to get people involved in the project.”

Lilian stares at the suicide rate for a moment. “Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“It was buried in the news,” Tinaya explains. “It wasn’t covered up, but it wasn’t covered much either. The headline that day was about a little boy who won’t eat unless he’s dressed like a cat, and his plate is placed on the floor for him.”

Lilian is perturbed but not surprised by this. She sighs, and swipes back over to study the forest design. “You can’t have these close together. The black walnut will kill the tomatoes. I’ve told you this. You don’t always listen.”

“I did that on purpose as a prank,” Tinaya explains with a smirk. “There won’t be any black walnut in the real design. Walnuts, and their trees, are terrible.”

“It’s gonna take forever for these trees to grow. I mean, we can ask people to crouch on the ground and plant them, but they’ll die before the trees get big enough for the people who did that to enjoy. Except for the bamboo. The bamboo will be fun.”

Tinaya nods. “There’s a way around that.”

Lilian looks at her incredulously.

“Heh...time, right?”

Lilian sort of rolls her eyes. “You wanna create a time bubble so it grows literally overnight. Isn’t that illegal?”

“I’m sure we could figure it out,” Tinaya says with a shrug like it’s no big D. “I can talk to the Captain, you can talk to the First Chair.

Lilian scoffs. “I don’t get audience with the First Chair.”

“Well, I’m sure you can make your way up high enough to get things going. We can do this, Lilian. We can make this happen. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s gonna be a shit-ton of work, but what’s the point of living if you don’t do stuff? I may never become captain, but if we pull this off, we’ll both go down in history as heroes.”

“Is that why you wanna do it? That’s not a great reason.”

“Who cares what my motives are if it happens? The result is what matters. The trees and the plants and the fruits and the vegetables are what matter. You taught me how great it feels to take that first bite into a tomato that I planted and picked myself. If you want everyone to feel that, then let’s give them the chance. Not everyone can work for the best civil servant in the world.”

“That’s sweet,” Lilian says with a smile. “Okay, but we’re not talking to anybody else about it until we get the design perfect. Let me work on it myself. We gotta get rid of those black walnuts.” She shakes her head.

“All right, but let me talk to Valencia and Omega. If we’re going to use a time bubble, they’ll be the ones to do it.”

“No, don’t do that. They don’t work for the ship anymore. Reach out to Atkinson.”

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Extremus: Year 57

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Everything is back to normal. Tinaya snuck Lataran, Omega, and Valencia back into the Bridger section. She was able to repair and reconfigure the brain sharing machine to put the latter three back to how they were. Tinaya herself, however, did not put on one of the helmets. She left her brain in its new and improved state. Who needs school when all the knowledge you ever need can be downloaded into your memory cortex in a matter of moments? Omega and Valencia were not pleased with her decision, but there was nothing they could do about it. This technology was not legal, so pursuing the matter would necessarily endanger their own freedom and reputations. They decided to just drop it, and leave it be. The two of them went off to live their own immortal lives, and Lataran went back to school. She was behind, but as planned a long time ago, was able to start back up right where she left off. There is no age limit to education, so while the majority of the students were younger than her, she wasn’t the only one who had put it off. Some kids just aren’t ready for college until they’re older.

Tinaya is living her best life, at least for now. After all that time caring for the saplings, she’s taking a year off to focus on her own needs. She’s refusing to deal with Avelino or the Bridgers. She’s not stressing out about her lack of formal education, or her future. Captain, not the captain; whatever. She’s on holiday. There aren’t a lot of vacation spots on this ship, but they do exist. She frequents the Starsight Restaurant. It’s not what it sounds like. There are no real viewports on the ship. Well, there are, but they can’t be used while in transit. Traveling at these high speeds welcomes in a literally blinding light from the outside, which is known as the doppler glow. Instead, the walls, ceiling, and floor of the restaurant serve as giant holographic projection screens, making it feel as though the tables, chairs, and patrons are floating in space. Even the surface gravity is lowered to about 20 percent normal to enhance the immersive experience.

Tinaya also plays mini-golf, and destroys objects at the therapeutic rage room, but she spends most of her time at the spa and hotel. She sits in the hot tub, and swims in the pool. She gets massages, and she relaxes on the beach facsimile, which is very obviously not located by a real ocean, but it’s close enough to get the effect. It’s better, actually, because there aren’t any sand fleas or broken beer bottles to contend with. She’s not been at the spa in nearly two weeks, though, because it’s better to take breaks from her break, or it stops feeling special. She’s having trouble getting back in today. “What do you mean that I’m not currently allowed in?”

“It’s your contribution score, sir,” the desk attendant replies.

“My contribution score?” Tinaya spits. “I never check that thing. It’s always been fine; what’s changed?” Extremus doesn’t have any form of currency. Money need not be exchanged in order to enjoy amenities. But that doesn’t mean everything is completely free to everyone. One must be a productive member of society. A contribution score is a number that places a value on the amount of effort a resident of this ship exerts. It basically calculates how good of a person you are, and how much you deserve whatever you’re asking for. Going to school, getting a job, not committing crimes; these all add to your score, and not doing anything with one’s life can lower it. That appears to be what has happened to Tinaya.

“I’m sorry, sir; I don’t have full access to your background information. All it tells me is that you’re sitting at a score of 83, and that is below our threshold for enjoyment of our facilities. You are not permitted to reenter the premises until you reach a score of at least 140.”

“I don’t understand how it works. I’ve never worried about it. That’s something adults think about. But it’s my birthday, and I want to celebrate it. This used to be my favorite place to go, but that is quickly changing.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I...I’m not so one hundred percent sure about it either. I have a regular job, and that sort of gets me a pretty high score, so I’ve never given it much thought but I do believe there’s an age thing. I can get my supervisor up here to discuss it.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

A couple has been waiting in line behind her. One of them mutters something under his breath.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

Neither one responds.

“Don’t be scared. Say it out loud. Say it to my face.”

“I said that you were a Karen.”

Tinaya is rageful for a second, but she quickly slips into embarrassment and shame. She is being a Karen, isn’t she? She still doesn’t know how her score works, but it should be no surprise that it’s gone down. She’s not done anything for the ship. Perhaps a year-long sabbatical wasn’t the best idea in the world.

He senses the transition of emotion in her face, and his own changes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s not my place to judge. I know that I don’t know what you’re going through. I hope...you get your score back up.”

“Thank you.”

She’s about to leave when the desk attendant’s manager comes around. “I understand that you’re having an issue, sir?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tinaya says. “It’s my fault.”

“I can help you,” he says comfortingly. “Why don’t you come into my office?”

“Okay.” She follows him into the back, and sits across from him.

He pulls her info up on the screen, which Tinaya can only see from a steep angle. “Okay, looks like you have a score of 83.”

“I thought that was all right.”

“It used to be pretty good for someone like you, but two things happened shipwide this year, and one thing happened in my industry. Number one, beginning on January the first, the maximum score was raised. The highest used to be 120, but it is now 216. Now, of course, everyone’s score was lifted to account for that. In fact, I believe there was a short clause in the new bill that gave most citizens the benefit of the doubt. So if you had a score of 108, you would end up with...” He plugs in the math. “...194.4, which they would have just bumped up to 195, because they don’t do fractions.”

“Okay...so now 83 is extremely low, but I was here two weeks ago, and there was no problem, so why wasn’t mine raised?”

“Because of the other two things,” he begins. “Last week, our internal policies changed. We now require a minimum contribution score of 140, which under our old policy, accounting for the new maximum possible score that the government came up with, was only 120. For a short window, yours was probably sitting at around 150, but it’s not your only issue. Your score would have been all right yesterday, however, it’s your birthday. It is, in fact, your twenty-third birthday, and on this ship, you no longer enjoy a boost in your contribution score from your parents. You are no longer in school, you do not hold a job, and you have been spending a lot of time at the spa. That has finally caught up to you. You should have been warned of this, and that is something that I could have done for you. I should have probably guessed that you presently do not have anyone else to help you through this. For my part in the lack of communication, and the misunderstanding, I apologize. I can point you to some resources that can help you raise your score. You could find a job, maybe you can go back to school.”

“I can’t go to school. I wasn’t accepted.”

The manager nods slowly. “I understand the awkward position that you’re in, Miss Leithe. Or rather I understand that I don’t understand. Word gets around, even to private citizens, like me. They say that you were gonna be a member of the crew, but something happened. It’s not my place to question it, and I certainly can’t help you get back to a place of honor. I might be able to find you a job, though. It’s not going to be particularly glamorous, but if you work hard, and you keep your head down, you’ll to 140, or at least close.”

“I don’t know...”

“As manager of this spa, I would be capable of making an exception if your score has improved enough, according to my own judgment. As long as you cleared it with your new supervisor, you could come back here, and take a rest. But staying for weeks at a time, several times a year, is probably a practice that is behind you.”

“It was never going to last forever. I’ve just been dealing with a lot, and I wanted to stop going so hard. We’re traveling at the speed of light, and I was trying to...slow down for once in my life.”

He chuckles, and spreads his arms demonstratively. “Look at where I’m workin’, Miss Leithe. Believe me, I understand slowin’ down.”

She nods appreciatively. “What would this job be?”

My sister works in the civilian government. She’s not someone you would have heard of, but her job is secretly important—”

“I don’t want secrets. I’m sick of secrets.”

“I just mean that she’s not famous. She’s not a politician; she’s a civil servant. She does good work, I think you’d like her. She’s too busy, and I can’t get her into this spa to relax, because there’s too much work to do. Though she won’t admit it, she needs an assistant. She’s entitled to one, but she’s never asked for it, and I’ve been pushing for it more than her superiors have because they don’t care about her like I do.”

“If you’ve already been trying to get her to get an assistant, what makes you think she’ll take me?”

“You’re a lost little puppy. She would consider it a favor that she’s giving to someone else, rather than something that she’s taking. I just have to frame the proposal the right way.”

Tinaya thinks about it for a moment. If it’s a low enough office, it won’t disqualify her from being Captain one day, and Second Lieutenant Velitchkov did say that they liked her for her ability to make her own choices. This is probably not written in the stars, which is exactly the kind of decision she ought to be making. Plus, it’s time to stop feeling sorry for herself, and actually do some good for the ship. The contribution is inherently rational, rather than arbitrary. “Okay. Could you set up an interview?”

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