This isn’t mellow: You do not understand. If you understand what’s understood you would agree and if you agreed, you would comply. Because . . . *ism. There is an original, unforgiveable sin explaining everything. And . . . lucky you, you are born with it.
Another not-so-chill thing: women are trouble. All the way back to Eve when she insisted Adam join her in eating forbidden fruit. So many things since then are wrong with this world. Today’s Adam wiggles when he walks and melts down once his decaf soy flat white stops being hot. Soy boy experiences existential angst over whether his pinkie nail color honors trans people. So harsh. The post-apocalyptic paradise can’t come fast enough.
Worst of all, Damian is out in the world. Last known location was in Winnemucca, NV. How? Manipulating the Hive mind in use by Saito-Gumi and the debtor’s prison to approve a transfer to Humboldt County Jail. To service guard robots used in the jail. As one does.
Another Day in Paradise
Varo‘s death faded to a shadow. Life went on. Inger’s day-to-day was 1pm to 9pm, Thursday through Saturday. Ever since the disaster with the door network the casino sends a robotaxi to her bungalow on Wednesdays. Home to RIC, the casino’s jet to Winnemucca, then a helicopter to the casino.
Dinner in the American Cafe buffet on her employee meal card. Nothing huge. Fake crab salad, an udon bowl, and iced tea. Then back to the dorm room with headphones and a tablet to watch movies.
Things get rolling around lunch time Thursday. Then it’s rinse/repeat through shift-end on Saturday afternoon. Father Thomas does Latin mass Sunday morning. She commutes to Richmond on Sunday afternoon. The reverse of Thursday: helicopter to Winnemucca, jet to RIC, robotaxi to East 16th Street. Four months of normal, thank heaven.
Lazy Day
Monday morning. She’s home so she makes breakfast with coffee. Puts her dirty laundry in the bin to be washed. Cleans up from breakfast and puts things away. Walks to Cafe Zata for a flat white. There are only a few people in the cafe. The door opens and . . . Damian?! Not possible.
wtf!? Damian is ordering coffee? Isn’t he in Saito-Gumi prison in Norfolk? How can he be buying a coffee at Cafe Zata? Then Inger notices the walk. It’s a little mechanical and the whir of servo motors drifts through the cafe. Impressive. And creepy. Damian you clever, evil son of a bitch. You built a robot with your skin.
Damian was average, 5’7″, a little chunky, with hair that hovered between black and green like it couldn’t decide, and green-blue eyes. His robot was taller, maybe 6’1″, leaner, and more muscular. An avatar of what he thought Inger would be into. He thought wrong. Typical.
Virtuality
It paid for the coffee in cash. Interesting. Then walked to her table with it in hand, “May I join you?” No. The thing sat across from her anyway, “You are a bad girl, you sexy thing.” What low rent porn video did this thing fall out of? That line is supposed to work? Seriously?
“What’s your serial number?”
“Damian Holdt. I’m Damian Holdt,” it said in a close digitalization of Damian’s voice. Not close enough.
“No, dumbass. You are a Tavro. I spotted you when you walked in. You know that Damian is wanted for murder. What’s your serial number?”
The Tavro beeped. Then a ringtone, “Comm channel connected.” This time it was Damian’s voice, “Inger, baby, you need to understand what is understood. What is understood is that you belong to me. Be a good girl and follow the Tavro.”
The barista behind the counter picked up his phone and made a call. Images of Damian’s smashed face flashed through her mind. Inger stared hard at the Tavro, “Listen, you piece of shit. I’m not following this joke of a robot, not following you, not going anywhere. Damian, you asshole, I am not that into you. Murderer and a stalker! You have a better chance of eating worms than ever being with me!”
“I understand enough. Stay where you are. Don’t move. The guards are on the way!” DCX7219V started to speak. Then its eyes went dark, “Shutting down in ten seconds.” It stood up from the table, went to a spot by the door, and lay down. Then went quiet. The hum of its servos ceased.
Repossessed
Nervous silence filled Cafe Zata. Someone whispered, “what just happened?” Another patron, “that’s so weird!” The barrista went to where DCX7219V lay and rubbed its sternum, “I am ordered to stand down. Someone is on the way to pick me up.” Inger turned back to her tablet and coffee.
After a half-hour a technician accompanied by a four-wheeled Tavro transport showed up outside. “DCX7219V, get up. We are here to pick you up.” The Tavro Damian stood up, walked outside, and lay down on the transport, then went dark again. People stared at the empty space where a thing just happened. Then went back to their convo and coffee.
Inger looked down at her cold coffee and decided she’d had enough. She stood, walked out of Cafe Zata, and went home to East 16th Street. This guy, this Damian, had stalked her for a year. He broke into her Stuart Street house, murdered her Door Dash driver, and sent a robot that looked like him to demand she be with him. That’s not how that works. Why would he think ordering a woman around would work?
A Sleepless Night
Was anywhere safe? Was there anywhere she could be that Damian couldn’t get to? Buckskin maybe. But even there because it was Hive connected he could take over her screens and broadcast intrusive messages to her. Asshat.
She called the casino. Offered to pay for her commute to work. There, Casino Security would watch over her. They had already evicted Damian from her Stuart Street house. The Hive instance at work was aware of Damian and controlled access to Inger.
Her boss told her they’d pay for the trip. Get herself together and a car would be there in a half-hour. She packed fast. Work uniforms, personal care, tablet, charger. The casino Hive is aware. It had evicted Damian once. It would do so again. The robotaxi arrived in twenty-three minutes. Then the usual flight and helicopter.
Home is Where You Find It
Inger didn’t know when she’d be back in Richmond. Something had to be done with Damian. He’s already in a debtor’s prison. The prison and the Hive know him. Yet he keeps breaking through to Inger—to demand she be with him.
Tala was in the common area of the employee dorm when she got there. Arranged on a plate were udon, crushed garlic, diced green onion, fresh ginger, sliced fresh pork, Chinese broccoli, takuan, and bok choy ready for the wok. Tala didn’t break stride as Inger walked in. She started with a little sesame oil in the wok, followed by the aromatics—garlic, green onion and ginger, then the pork, Chinese broccoli, bok choy, takuan and the udon last. She let that fry for a bit then added water and dashi-no-moto. Inger watched, enjoying the smells reaching her nose.
Mondays and Tuesdays the capsule dorm at the casino is quiet. Most everybody is off. Those that can leave for their days off. When the Door Network was reliable many casino staff went to Osaka for baths and massages. That’s gone so a lot of the staff fly to closer, less touristy places.
Comfort in Routine
Inger walked in with her duffle slung over her shoulder, Tala looked up from her wok and started cleaning up, “You’re back early. How are you?”
“American Cafe’s open”
“So is my stove.”
Inger set her bag down, “That smells better than fake crab salad.”
Tala went to the cupboard and pulled out two soup bowls, some ceramic spoons, and two pairs of chopsticks, “So is my stove. You look like some sleeze sent a Tavro to your doorstep.”
“He did.”
“Then you need real food. Who is he?”
“That creep Damian that murdered my DoorDash driver.”
“Oh my god! I was kidding. Really?!”
“Yeah, really.”
“I thought he was in prison?”
“He is. But they gave him a job refurbishing Mikakos and Tavros. So, he made one to look like himself and sent it to me in Richmond.”
“Oh. Eeew! That was supposed to work?”
“I guess. I was never into him. Now he’s become my stalker.”
“How hard can it be to lock him down somehow.”
“I dunno. Hard enough that he finds a way to stalk me.”
“Can’t the police do anything?”
“He’s already in prison, so . . .”
“That sucks.”
“It does,” Inger ate in silence. She fought back tears and lost the fight. Tala saw this and touched her wrist then went back to eating. Inger’s tablet woke up with a text message in Japanese, “まだ終わってねぇ。運命なんだよ、俺たちは。” The word flew out of her mouth before she could stop it, “Asshole.”
Tala saw the message, “Damian 的膝丸像發臭的鷹嘴豆，別理他啦。” Both women laughed.