Down and dirty in Demeter E01P01

    -- A… club?
    The pair of them were having morning drinks in a cafe somewhere in the mid-town area of the Wynworth subcity of Demeter. It was approaching mid-day.
    -- What do you think?
    He paused to swallow his coffee and consider.
    -- I’m not sure. I’ve run clubs before... Well you know what they can be like.
    -- You’ve done everything before Orn, the android said, ser head jerking disconcertingly as se spoke. I think this could be fun. Live music, a bar, dancers. Girls. You remember fun, right?
    -- Sure, Orn said. Do you?
    -- No of course not, the android said. Not yet.
    Orn nodded.
    -- Do you have a location planned?
    The android nodded:
    -- It’s a warehouse in the Pasha-dun sector, near Calmino street. It has split levels, a private office and is already connected up to the grid. Here.
    The android sent a few files with photos to Orn’s conduit.
    -- See?
    Pictures and a video of the inside of the club rolled across his vision, along with a small simulation that he could mentally turn around in and wander about in.
    While he did this he carried on talking to the android:
    -- It’s a bit dingy, Myriad.
    -- It merely needs some repairs and grouting and it would be right as rain.
    Orn’s mind walked up some stairs and he looked around the office. He found himself wondering what else he had to do with his day. His most recent trail had run cold anyway and he had been officially wasting time in Demeter for six weeks since Leese had died, with no clients. It was time to move on.
    -- How long?
    -- A week for repairs, Myriad said excitedly. I figure we get me, you and the drunk together, get some paint, nails and tools and go old school.
    -- You don’t have the money to get a crew of repair robots in, you mean.
    -- It’s all completely tight. Wrapped up in a bow.
    Orn shrugged:
    -- What’s my take?
    -- Ten percent?
    -- Twenty you thief.
    Myriad laughed. Orn disliked the android’s laugh because it was completely fake. Myriad didn’t actually feel anything, se was simply playing a response sequence to a series of contextual inputs to attempt to fit in. Orn found it disconcerting.
    -- Twenty.
    -- Fifteen.
    -- Eighteen you shark.
Myriad delivered the exact same laugh, a sound like metal scraping metal. How often Orn had heard the same laugh he didn’t know, but his reaction never varied.
    -- Fine, eighteen then, the android said and extended a hand.
Orn shook it. Myriad winked on cue as se always did.
    -- Okay, I have to run old man, Myriad said and stood up to go, leaving a couple of marks on the table to pay for the drinks.
    -- Old man? I’m twenty two.
    -- You keep telling yourself that ithan. Some day I might even believe it.
    Orn nodded and waved the android away.
    -- If you hear of any real work around let me know, he called after Myriad.
    Se waved back that se would.


Next time: Two buckets of paint and a gunshot!