A week after the justicar interviews finds me back in my Elsewhere office trying to ignore Patience’s typing while I sift through the community bulletin for why my settlement is a steaming pile of shit. I send the ‘complaints’ to a consolidating folder and requests for a loan to another. After a hundred plus messages begging for money, I quit looking at my messages.

  I get a call immediately after. Fucking technology.

  I answer anyway. “Hey Marcus. What the hell is a voice call anyway?”

  “Heh, I get that. Can you meet me at the old brewery, I’d like to talk to you about the community branching out.” Marcus is definitely calling for a loan. Difference is, I respect that man as he works his ass off for me.

  A t-shirt and some flip flops later, I walk the few blocks to my large-batch test lab where I make the crafting potions and my berry beer. Marcus is there, leaning against an old electrical box.

  “Is there something you want with my brewery?” I ask the man.

  “Wait, you’re using it?!” He asks in surprise. “Damn, me and some guys were hoping to turn it back into a tap room.”

  “I guess that’s still possible. I just use the front as a final testing lab for my potion batches. We could talk about building an addition and I could make a smaller test station on the vat floor.”

  “But you’re okay with the concept?”

  “Well yeah, Marcus. I’m happy to hear that a resident wants to start a business that others will enjoy. The remodel would cost between three and five thousand credits. I’d be willing to split it with you.”

  He chuckles sadly and scrubs his short, curly hair. “What about loaning us the rest of it?”

  “Marcus. I’m going to be real, even half is more than twice your salary.”

  “Kimber, hear me out, okay? I have four others that want to share the load. The debt would be on five of us, and we’ve agreed that you can garnish our pay if need be.” I sigh and scrub my face as is my habit.

  “Yeah, man. That works. That’s five hundred credit debt a head at two percent interest per year, compounded monthly, beginning with back interest next year.”

  “Twelve-or so-credit interest per year? I don’t love it, but we can handle. When can we start?”

  Oh? So ready to begin? Now I’m really interested.

  “Give me your tank requirements and we can get started tomorrow, muchacho. I’ll do the brute construction, you’ll handle the fiddley bits.”

  “We’ll meet up here tomorrow to sign things and get to work.” He slides over and shoulder hugs me—a rare mote of physical affection from the man. I nod and pat him on the back before giving him a tour.

  ***

  “I got the tanks transferred and hooked up to each other in the layout that was in my side, but to your size desires. The rest is on you. You won’t have access to my side, and I want a tap for my berry beer to be available.”

  “Like a consignment?” One of the young men that seem to be brewers asks.

  “Sure? It’s entirely selfish. I think the beer is good, and I want it available. Ten percent of sales would be fine. The rest of my pay would be to rent the tap spot more or less permanently.”

  “That’s an easy deal to make. Do you make booze perchance?”

  “I do, but you better not. You don’t need a special license to sell it, but you sure as shit need one to make it.” I point vigorously at the man who asked.

  “Ah, I, uh. What would that permit entail?” he asks nervously.

  “Do this for six months and I might entertain it. Just stick to brewing for now, okay?” They all nod while I shake my head in disbelief. They go back to talking amongst themselves, going over roughly-drawn plans on the back of some survey pages we pulled out of a desk.

  \Hey Kimmy, you got a sec?\

  /For you, Zizi, I have minutes. What’s up, hon?/

  \I want some lair time to discuss some things. Can you take a day or two away?\

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  /Mate, the rest of existence can suffer if you have need of me./

  \Mmm, I like that from you. Stokes my embers. I can be there in six hours. Please meet me there.\

  /I’ll bring the plushie of conversation pinkie-saur./ I get a pleased rumble on the other end of our mental link. Empress, do I love that woman. She makes me feel squishy feelings, and the need to validate my existence with tiny versions of us. Ugh, what a delightful mess I am around her. I am super gross and have a box with dragon dander that smells like her. I rub some on a sweat shirt when I’m desperate for a cuddle. ARG! Six hours is too long!

  “Alright gents, I’ll be next door working in my section. If you need something, just holler.”

  “Yo, you seem connected. If we have specialty parts, mind if we ask you?” One of Marcus’ crew asks.

  “Sure. Just put it through Marcus. No offense, but I don’t want to get requests from five different sources. And if you ask for a tungsten carbide flute or some other wacky shit, I’m going to add an idiot tax.”

  He snorts at that. “nothing like that. Just a regulating manifold that I can’t find.”

  “Sure sure. We reclaim a lot of steel and aluminum, so those will be pretty cheap. Keep that in mind would you?” I don’t tell him that my printer is some magitech bullshit that the Matrix gave me, but he doesn’t have to know that. Come to think of it, I mostly waste it’s uptime and usually only print out a few thousand vials every so often.

  If you would allow me to que some parts, we could definitely use the manufacturing for my servers and some parts that Aria would like but is too independent to ask you about.

  I would chastise her for her silliness, but she likely told you that in confidence. Good work on getting on her good side Tova. Hey, do you know how complicated a print it can do?

  Andromeda didn’t give us a manual or any FAQ file, so we can run tests? Would you like me to try to print a few complex machines like a working pair of scissors or a hand gun?

  Oh hell yeah, I would love if some of our complex tools could be printed on this thing without assembly. Try some multi-material things too, like fancy cushions for my pilot seat.

  I will likely prioritize self-designed computation modules, but I will make you a fancy seat with your priceless fabricator.

  You know, you should post reclamation goals for different materials. Like a quest. I’m pretty sure as a Settlement Owner, I can give quests! Go light on the quests for now, test where the XP bonus comes from and all that. I’m giving you deputy director permissions. Offer the transfer fee we get charged by Andromeda as the bounty/reward so our prices end up about the same or less.

  I appreciate the permissions, I will send you noticeable indications of drastic changes that I make. I don’t have door access to your lab, so if I could request a bot to move and store printed items in the future, that would be ideal.

  Yeah, no offense Tova, no one gets to open that door besides me. I will be more than happy to order a service bot that can obey simple instructions though.

  May I ask why you don’t want to give me access?

  Buh, Tova. This is kind of a large personal quirk that I don’t want to identify. However, I also want you to feel valued as you are an inseparable part of my dome. It’s about sanctuary. A place that I feel completely in control, but in a way that doesn’t harm anyone. I know it affects you, but just like your server spaces, I feel the need to be a god of something, and my little lab feels like enough. So please realize how big of a deal it is for me to allow you communications access inside through that wire-only relay.

  I think I understand. I wanted a server space just for me, because I felt like having a body, an existence separate from you was important. I don’t think I realized that you don’t consider your body, yourself as your sanctuary.

  I shudder at her expression of my fears. I had given up long ago on thinking that my body was mine, and most recently my mind isn’t sacrosanct either. Even though I now willingly give pieces of them away, neither my body or my mind feel like a sanctuary.

  I sigh heavily while Tova lets me process these emotions without input. You know, Tova, that just because I need a space of my own, doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t chose this relationship with you every time.

  I sometimes wonder why you allowed me to be willful and pseudo-independent. I am thankful, but by and large it does not make much sense for a Human with your history to make such a decision. Not to say that I am not grateful: Andromeda would not have allowed me to expand to a virtual entity had you not allowed for it first. It’s odd, and esoteric that the life that Aria describes of other ships and their captains could be so one sided, as even during my ‘teenage phase’ I was as free as any AI could ask.

  I love you too, Tova. Even if you are a grumpy bear some times.

  In the words of your draconid lover, you are a doofus, but a lovable one.

  Tooovaa. You turd. Fiiine, I’ll put 5k in your play money fund, you little extortionist. She shows me an image of an old man taping his fingers together and isolates herself in calculation.

  Emotional period for the month finished, I check on my potion tanks and find that the industrial version of my process is less viable, cutting my low level crafting potion back down to four hours. I’ll try to tweak the efficiency back up, but for the low price of 8 credits, I’m not worried. Okay, I am, but I also have crafters in my settlement and have somewhere to put excess potions. I’m secure and stable, I swear!

  I tag the vials as I load them--I could use a production line for this, but I really don’t have the space—and after a few hours I send the lot ID to patience to put up on the Exchange for me tomorrow. I really should hire an assistant whose job is just Exchange orders and receipts. I send a note to Patience for that too. She really does work a lot, but I feel the salary aspect of the job posting covered this. I dunno. I’ll have to talk to someone about this, but my options are someone who doesn’t have employees, and the damned Empress. An Empress I will absolutely be swearing at should the next three months not reveal my love’s perfect wedding.

  \I Really hate this direct line garbage, Kimber.\

  /Suck it up, Deity-o-mine. I pay the tithe in aether, you get to hear me complain. Even trade yeah?”

  \Fuck off you twit, I’m busy. And for your insolence, I gave the sisters from Valkyries of the Calamity your contact info.\

  I send her a disgruntled chirp and she laughs at me. Pixie witch.