The BUS to the Technology Park on Pod B, A- Ring was running late again ANDREA noted

with an impatient sigh. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Monday but it definitely did not help at all if
you were already running behind. She busied herself picking a few stray fibers off of her gray suit-skirt
and moving her hand about the red bum of hair she had hurriedly put it into this morning. Last sleep-
cycle she had stayed up late watching a program about the food chain in the TORALLIAN Jungles with
her daughter, Fiona. Because of that, Andrea had woken up at half past (5) instead of her usual (5:15),
causing her to miss being able to grab a bite of breakfast before she left the (house). But she wouldnt
have changed how she had spent that time with her little girl. Fiona was growing up fast and she really
wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
JASON, Andreas husband, was customarily out late at work. He had missed diner and told her
not to wait up for him. She had told him on multiple occasions that he was a workaholic and needed to
slow down and pay more attention to living life rather then his occupation. For the most part, he tried.
Lately he had been working on the nanotechnology required for a new project that would allow humans
to undertake longer space voyages. Some sort of chamber that slowed down body functions. Andrea
didnt ask too much about his work because he would get all geekazoid on her, and she would be lost in
his technobabble in a matter of seconds. She smiled warmly as she thought about Jason. He really was
a good man.
She would have gone on thinking about him if the airlock doors hadnt hissed open to admit her
and about 10 other people onto the half-full shuttle-bus. The shuttle itself was able to hold 100 persons
comfortably, and about twice that many packed in. The only time the buses had ever been that packed
were on holiday celebrations and a few occasional major sporting events. The seats themselves were
padded with aerogel which could be firmed or relaxed for comfort. It could recline slightly and had
temperature controls. Shuttle-buses were somewhat of a luxury. A person had to pay extra credits to
ride on one, but it was cheaper than owning your own. Not many people on the HALCYON CORP
station flew in that kind of style. It was usually reserved for the rich. The other side of the coin was the
pressure-vac tubes. Akin to the subway stations of antiquity they were cheap, however, usually
uncomfortable and heavily packed with people of not-so-stellar caliber. They also were not as well kept
or maintained. Although, they did manage to ride with a steadfast reliability and general smoothness.
Andrea passed through one of the isles and found an unoccupied seat near the front. Lowering
herself into it she fastened her shoulder straps and clicked them together in front of her. Then she
tucked her black (moleskin) carry-bag under the two velcro straps on the side of her seat. She also
made sure that all her pockets, hair-ties, and other assorted possessions were away, closed, or secured.
A light on the Led signs located around the shuttle flashed Departing and five, one-second thrums,
each two seconds apart, sounded in the cabin as a voice came over the PA. system. Please be seated.
The shuttle is now departing. Make sure all of your baggage is secure, and that you are properly locked
into the restraints. This sequence was repeated three times. After a short pause, the shuttle detached
from the station, and that familiar sensation of weightlessness washed over everyone on board.
There was an ever so slight feeling of acceleration as the station rose away above them, and it
began to pass along overhead as they began their trip to the Technology Park. Andrea glanced at the
back of her hand and noticed the time as (6:17). She was going to be late. Taking a small device from
where it was clipped on her chest pocket, she placed it into her ear and pressed a small button on it.
Hail COAP, she said as clearly and accurately as possible. A split second later a soft,
intermittent beeping noise affirmed that the call was going through. After three and a half beeps, there
was a light click and a voice manifested in her ear.
Central Observatory, Level 7, Pod B, BOWLIN... answered her supervisor.
Good morning, Arthur. Its Andy. Im running a little late. I should be there in about a half an
hour.
 I dont think the constellations are going anywhere. Are you still going to swing by Claras on
your way? He sounded, at first, like a disapproving father. He knew her a little too well. Before she
could answer he chimed in again. This time his sternness had faded into something of a side-note.
because if you are, then you can pick me up a mocha chai latte and well call it even.
She smiled and replied, Will do. Thank you, Art.
Andrea heard what she assumed was a grunt of confirmation, then a soft click which indicated
that the call had ended. Arthur Bowlin was in his late 50s and he had broad shoulders, a full gray
beard, and a stylish head of hair to match. His deep baritone voice usually surprised people, coming
from his imposing figure of 5 feet, 4 and a half inches. He always had a serious face and a gruff sense
of humor, but a very warm and hearty laugh that could always make a person smile.
The LED panel on the shuttle flashed ARRIVING several times, and soon after that the
methodical thrumming sounds as the LED changed again to DOCKING. The voice came up again.
The shuttle is now docking, prepare for simulated gravity. Three times, and a quick pause, then a
slightly jolting feeling as the force of gravity burdened the passengers once more. Thank you for
flying on HALCYON CORP Shuttle Systems. Have a pleasant day.
Most of the people filed off from the opposite end of the shuttle than they entered as the new
passengers boarded. The terminal wasnt very crowded as Andrea made her way into the plaza.
Contrary to the terminal, the plaza was bustling with life. People going about their daily chores of
shopping and browsing. This was the main commercial section of Pod-B, laden with all manner of
stores and businesses. There was a grocery store, a pet store, a clothing store, a technology shop, a
barber shop, a salon, and two or three restaurants of different cuisines. (ELABORATE!)
Nestled in between the grocery store and the barber shop was a little bakery called Carlas
Confections. The owner, Carla Dorado, had been a friend of Andres for years and was always greeting
her with an infectious smile and a great, big hug. Today would be no exception. As soon as Andrea
walked in she came around the counter and embraced her with her big arms. Clara wasnt obese, per
say, but she was most definitely not wasting away any time soon.
Oh honey, how are you today? Ive been running around all morning trying to get these blasted
rolls finished. That bastard, Tony forgot to leaven the dough last night and I wasted a whole damn rack
before I realized it. Im going to rap him with a rolling pin when he gets in here! Should be along
shortly, if you want to stay and watch the beating...
Andrea sighed and smiled. I would, I really would if I had the time...
Clara glanced up at the clock and harrumphed, shaking her head, then looked back at Andrea
over her shoulder as she made her way back around the counter, tugging on some new latex gloves.
Alrighty, hon. What can I getcha? The usual?
Yes please. Could you also add on a mocha chai latte and an apple turnover? Im running late
for work, Arty gets cranky when he hasnt had his caffeine.
I personally think that man is eternally cranky. He rarely smiles and he never says much.
Always straight to the point with no chit-chat what-so-ever. Its just not natural. Its no wonder hes still
single... Clara went about two tasks at once, fixing up Andreas caramel swirl frappaccino, and
bagging up her blueberry-walnut muffin.
Art? Are you kidding? I dont think he has thought about dating since high school. I wonder if
he ever had a lady-friend. Ive never seen a wedding band. Heck, I dont even know if the man goes
home to sleep.
 Andrea had piqued her own curiosity. In all the time she had known him, the topic had never
come up. She would have to make a point to ask him some time. Some time when she was not late for
work.
Clara put two little baggies and a tray which firmly held down the two drinks onto the counter.
Thatll be 6 credits, girlie. And a lack of sleep would certainly make sense. He does always have those
bags under his eyes, but maybe its just his age... She shrugged as she accepted Andreas cred-stick
and passed it over the payment pad. The pad turned from blue to green, then asked Andrea to press her
thumb down on the screen in front of her, which she did. The pad promptly thanked her and stated that
the transaction had been completed.
Clara handed the cred-stick back and smiled. Either way, she said I think that man needs a
vacation.
Andrea leaned over the counter to give her a one-armed hug. Thanks Clare. Try not to beat up
on Tony too badly. Some men just werent born with big brains.
Aint THAT the truth! Clara agreed, and waved good-bye to Andy as she left the shop for her
office.
Exiting the plaza, Andrea hopped onto one of the hovering seats which periodically floated by.
She passed a few technology buildings with solar panels for sale, integrated network solutions, radiant
energy alternatives and the nano-supply depot which helped create some of the products her husband
designed. Eventually the chair pulled up outside a semi-circular hemisphere of a building. The sign
outside read Central Observatory for Astronomical Research. Hopping off of the chair, Andrea
entered the front of the building through the big doors. As she entered into the front lobby, Shelly, the
receptionist, looked up from her H.V. program which she usually tried to hide from the boss, and
smiled when she saw Andrea, chewing on her gum, like always.
I forwarded all of your messages to your office a few minutes ago. The boss-man is waiting for
you up in his lair. I hope you got him his latte, because he sounds like he is in a bad mood today.
Andrea held up the tray with the drinks to show Shelly that she, indeed, had. Heading straight
up the stairs to the right of the desk without stopping. Actually increasing her pace a little. Whatever
was bothering Arthur, it couldnt be good.
There had only been a few times since they had worked together that Arthur had shown any sign
of a mood, and fewer still when he was in a bad mood. The last time was about two years ago when a
member of the observation team sent a series of incorrect commands to a space probe sent to study one
of the dwarf planets further out in the LUKKAR system. The probe missed its mark by a few million
miles and they had received no usable data at all, aside from a few distant pictures not even good
enough for a holo-postcard. The man was fired the next day and Bowlin stayed red in the face for
almost a week after that. The combination of shame and anger made him a scary looking man. But to
his credit, he had kept his cool, and managed not to explode into a bunch of little bitty pieces. After
that, everyone on the team was extra-careful with all of their calculations and inputs.
Andrea reached the bosses office and pressed the panel outside the door. There was no auditory
response, as was formal. The door simply slid open to reveal a dimly lit room. On the far wall was a
projection playing what looked to be an old recording of when the C.O.A.R. was first being built at
least 100 years prior. As the projection stopped, Andrea thought she saw something on the screen, but it
vanished too quickly for her to get a good look. Arthurs chair swirled around to face her and the lights
came up to reveal his red face. Not a good sign.
 She stepped into his office and pressed the button to close the door behind her. Walking over to
the seat across from him, she placed his mocha chai on his coaster, put the bag with the apple turnover
beside it, and sat down in the chair, trying to read his face. It was proving to be extremely difficult.
The awkward silence in the room steeped there for a long moment, becoming almost septic.
Eventually, Arthur took in a deep slow breath, and let it heavily back out. Then he eyed the paper bag
warily. Reaching slowly across his desk he swiftly gripped it up. The snap of the paper bag caused her
to flinch slightly, but when he slowly opened the bag to look down at the apple turnover, his face
softened a little.
I didnt ask for this... he said, bluntly.
No, you didnt. Andrea said carefully. But you sure as hell look like you need it.
Arthur grunted out a short laugh, and she knew she was safe. He removed the pastry from the
bag and took a gigantic bite out of it, chewing thoughtfully as he sighed. Normally, Arthur was a neat
freak. So when the flakes from the confection fell down his shirt and onto the floor, it was a bit off-
putting. He didnt say anything while he ate. He just stared out the simulated window into the vastness
of space. When he was finished, he used the napkin in his bag to wipe his hands, and took a savoring
sip of his latte. His face had somewhat normalized in color.
They want me to retire. he said outright. He was never big on words, but the curtness of his
statement put her in shock.
Finally she managed to get out the words, What!? Why!?
Arthur took in a deep breath and seemed to be considering his words carefully. The upcoming
election for the next station superintendent is in a week, and a lot of people on the advisory board have
been looking to cut back spending. They suggested that they should cut our budget by more than half,
saying that we dont yield enough results for the amount that they are putting in.
Andrea didnt know what to say. She had been working for Arthur for 9 years, since just before
her daughter Fiona was born. He had been working for HALCYON CORP since she was a little girl.
Her uncle had worked under him since before she was even born. And now they wanted him to retire?
It just didnt make sense to her.
He must have read the look on her face, because he took another sip of his latte and smiled. I
think this new candidate, Alexi whats-his-face, has something to do with this. I just wish I knew what
pressure point he was pushing on Lia so that I could help her try to slander this asshole.
Again, Andrea was taken aback. Arthur never swore. Nor had he ever been one to take politics
seriously in any way. She did know, however, that the current superintendent, Inalia Barnard, had been
friends with Bowlin since her first day in office. Rumor had it that Arthur and her had some kind of
past together, which lead to other rumors that the two had once been romantically involved. Was it
possible that all that back-room, coffee-shop talk had some small bit of truth to it? Andrea decided that
now was not a good time to ask.
So What are we going to do? She tried not to let her worry show, but her voice betrayed
her.
Arthur looked at the simulated window again at the great, wide darkness outside. Unless
whatever powers that be out there see it fit to send us some sort of miracle, there really isnt much we
can do aside from try to show how important this organization is to this station, or all human-kind. He
stared, unblinking. As if in a trance of some sort. Then he snapped out of it, shaking his head and
rubbing his weary eyes.
 Well, we arent doing anything productive just sitting on our butts waiting for the unavoidable.
I suggest we spend the rest of whatever time we have left searching and researching as much as
possible before they yank the plug on our whole operation. He cracked his fingers by interlocking
them and stretching them far out in front of himself, then he shook out his hands and put his glasses on.
He was a little odd like that. Everyone else in his position would have opted out for corrective laser
surgery, or a set of cyber-eyes, at the very least, some contact lenses. But Arthur was old-school. He
even opted out of voice commands in favor of an old fashioned QWERTY keyboard, which he was just
now laying into with his fingers. He paused and fixed his gaze on Andrea, eventually slowly leaning his
head down to stare at her over his glasses. Finally, he raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. It was
only after a somewhat long second it dawned on her that she was till sitting across from him. She felt
extremely stupid and blushed.
Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her carry-bag and made for the door, opening it with a push of
her thumb. She would have been half way down the hallway already if Arthur hadnt cleared his throat
loudly. Andrea spun on her heel to see what he wanted. After looking at Arthurs face and following his
eyes, she noticed that she had left her muffin and her frappaccino on his desk.
Right... she said simply, now even more embarrassed. Grabbing the food-stuffs quickly,
Andrea turned back to the hall and set quickly out for her office. She could hear Arthur chuckle behind
her as his door slid closed. Clara was definitely right. He was not a man of many words. Then again,
with facial expressions like his, she guessed that he didnt need to be.
Later that day Andrea was sitting in her office reviewing a weather prediction for the next
couple of days on the sunspots of LUKKAR (the system star) and the likelihood of dangerous solar
flares when her comm panel chirped. The ID for the call was C.O.A.R.-A-7-ROUGE, MARCUS.
Marcus Rouge was one of the techs and operators of the mobile telescope platform that was
further out into the system taking photos and readings away from some of the static of the inner orbits.
It had slipped her mind that it was (Monday). That meant that there would be more charts and things to
pour over. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head to clear it some, and picked up on the fourth chirp.
She could tell already that she would be needing another caramel swirl frappaccino. Probably with a
shot of espresso. Maybe two
Holister. She answered.
Hey Andrea. Just calling to let you know that the transmissions from the mobile platform will
be finished in about a half hour if you want to head down here to check them out. Otherwise I could
have them all transferred up to your office in about two hours, say around (16:45)? Marcus was
usually to the point when he called, as were most techies in the astronomy field. She looked up at the
clock and realized it was 10 minutes past lunch time.
Alright, Marcus. Ill tell you what. Im going to head down to (the sandwich shop in the plaza)
and pick up a (fish wrap) and another frappaccino, then when I am done eating Ill meet you down
there to take a peek. Did you want anything to eat or drink while Im out? Most of the Astro's didnt
make it out of the office much. Andrea was one of the lucky ones that had to leave the office a couple
times a day to check-up on things.
No thanks. Im getting into a Bossaurus Steak and (cheese of sorts) myself. Ive gotta hand it
to the wife, she makes a mean grinder. I should have something to show you by the time you get back.
Have a good lunch. Rouge out... Marcus ended the call and Andrea took a deep breath and let it huff
out through puffed cheeks.
She put down her data pad and went to use the bathroom and freshen up. It was just past (14:00)
when she was ready to head out for lunch, which meant she had been reading data reports, forecasts,
and schedules for almost 6 hours straight. With small breaks to let her eyes rest and stretch and walk
around for a minute. She was relieved to finally step out of the building and onto the street again. Most
of the other workers were coming back into the technology park from their breaks already, so there
wasnt much pedestrian traffic leading out. There was a hover chair free, so she hopped on it, swiped
her card, pressed her thumb, and off she went.
Rolling up to the plaza she hopped off and the chair navigated itself to one of the docking spots
and tucked itself neatly in. A sanitizing directional spray and a quick drying light made 5 second work
of making it serviceable again. It probably wouldnt be more than a minute before it was off again with
another passenger.
There was (the sandwich shop) on the lower level, but it didnt have a very big, and what it did
have was bucket-loads of grease. Not really her kind of place. There was, however, and ocean food
place which had the best coastal catch on the station up on the third tier.
Andrea contemplated taking the lift up, but she had been sitting all day and her legs ached for
some exercise. So she started up the large curved stairs to the right of the plaza. There were a nice
assorted arrangement of temperate flowers lining the stairs, with five-stared petals and spiky fronds of
all sorts of colors. All of them were meticulously up-kept by a series of horticultural machines and
robots. Every once in a while you would see an actual living gardener there, transplanting, replanting,
and taking care of some problem cases which the computers had alerted them to. It was nice to see that
machines had not taken every persons job. The people themselves had to know a bit more than they did
before, but the occupation was still there for those who had the willingness to learn it.
Higher, on the landing of the second tier, there was a group of uplifted cats in a circle listening
to a joke one of them was telling. Uplifted animals had been around for at least 40 years now. A result
of genetic manipulation and splicing that the HALCYON CORP had been doing (not entirely true, but who
is to say that isnt what they tell people. Maybe it is a well hidden secret that it was actually one man on a fanatical mission
to create sentience. Wink wink.) These domestic animals displayed human-like intellect, and could speak as
well as any man or woman. They were originally created to babysit children, or entertain guests. But
about 20 years ago they had started to argue about their rights, and complained about their abuse, and
forced slavery. At that point it was nearly impossible not to grant them the same rights as human
beings. They could do nearly everything their creators (or owners) could do, and some of them could
do a great deal more. Most began to walk on two legs, and began making clothing for themselves. They
began to form unions, and came up with jobs which they could do that the humans would rather not.
They were a new race on the sentient scene, and people couldnt think of any legitimate reason to tell
them that they couldnt do it.
If they wanted to be, and act like humans though, then they would be tried like humans in the
court of law. They were expected to be functioning members of society like everyone else. (this no doubt
brought about some interesting cases in which certain animal or human defenses were used. maybe elaborate that here)
And so, life went on. Andrea didnt really mind them that much, having grown up with them
since as far back as she could remember. Some people, however, still held onto some form of bigotry.
There were some periods of unrest, but for the most part, everyone got along. If they didnt, then they
were prosecuted.
Andrea continued past the cats, who had been nice enough to move just enough to get out of her
way without ever seeming to notice her. It must have been something ingrained in them from their
domesticated ancestors.
Up the stairs she went, and when she reached the third tier, she headed down the road which
branched off to her left, towards her destination. Coming around the side of a large laundromat, she
saw it.
Sims Seasoned Sea Suppers was a homey establishment with a quaint decor. The actual name on the
sign was Fo Es. Once Andrea had asked what it meant and Sim (the proprietor and owner) had tried
to explain it to her by saying, It stands for 4-S, and then you ask What is the S for?, and I say
Sims Seasoned Sea Suppers, and its FOR US!
Sim was definitely a strange cat, quite literally. He was descendant from two of the first uplifted
and his particular gene pool had blessed him with human like age limits. Not like most of the later
creatures. His coat was smokey gray, long hair, with charcoal black on the tip of his tail, on his paws,
and on his face. It was Sims eyes that were his most prominent feature. They were deep red with black
sclera (white part of the eye), and the iris itself looked as if it was serrated like some ancient ceremonial
knife. Supposedly that had been another feature geneticists were toying with at the time. He had
apparently inherited them from his mother, whom he said was not a very kind woman (catress?)
Regardless, Sims family had started the restaurant more than 20 years ago, even before any
uplifted enjoyed the rights of humans. It was an amazing story of how his father and mother had
convinced their master (whom had been one of the first to consider their kind as actual equals) into
opening up a shop. Since they were prohibited from owning businesses and even regular jobs, the man
(whos name was Huang Chi-Din) was the face of the establishment. He was kind and fair. He taught
them the essence of cooking in the old Soudorralian fashion, and let them work in the kitchen for
wages (even if they were not comparative rates to those of human employees) Sim had always stopped
the story there. One day, Andrea had asked Sim how he had come to own the shop. His answer was,
That is a story for another time. If you keep coming back to sup with us, one day I may tell you...
then he would smile that Cheshire smile.
Andrea stepped inside, the tingling bells over the door chimed, and the great warm smell of
many exotic spices filled her nostrils. Sim was reading a data pad while he was sprawled across the
counter. When he heard her enter he tucked the pad away into his red silk robe, which had little ancient
cats woven into the fabric in various slinky positions. Quickly, he straightened so that he was standing
on his two back paws. Straightening his wide-brimmed conical cap so that is was perfectly parallel with
the floor, he clasped his paws in front of him.
Everything in the shop was of some old or ancient style. Whatever material an object was made
from, it appeared to be genuine (not the synthesized stuff). It was as if you were stepping into a time-
capsule of what one of the old Soudorralian restaurants must have looked like centuries ago. Dougan
was wiping down tables near the back where it appeared a group of people had recently eaten. Andrea
waved to him and he waved back, then tidied up his hands on a towel at his waist.
Dougan was another marvel of genetics. What the scientists had labeled, Homo Canisapiens. In
most respects, a dog-man. He had mostly human features, though his ears were pointed some and a bit
larger and rounder than a human ear. The nose was slightly larger, though flatter. Some of his teeth
(specifically named for the animal itself) were, of course, pointed. His palms were padded and
somewhat larger, as were his feet. He didnt have a tail and when anyone asked him about it he would
simply state that he had chased it around and around until it finally got sick of him, fell off, and rolled
away. Andrea doubted that this was the truth, but never pressed him for an answer.
Other than that most all of the rest was as human as human could be. Dougans sense of smell
and hearing was highly increased compared to that of a human, though not quite as good as an actual
dogs. His eyes could see better at night than a humans, but his eyesight itself was about human normal.
The problem was, with time, the sight faded faster. Corrective surgery was always needed at an earlier
age.
 Sim bowed low as she approached. Greetings, most honorable flower, I hope this day is
finding you well. His smile showed his pointy teeth which made him look slightly sinister, though she
knew that it was intended warmly.
I wish it was. I received some troubling news this morning from my boss, and it has been a
long day so far. I was hoping that one of your (fish wraps) would do something to cheer me up.
Andrea set her cred-stick on the counter and slid it towards Sim, who continued smiling, but looked
genuinely concerned as he inserted it into the accounting machine. His set up was an old one. Not the
more recent type, where you just waved it over the pad and pressed your thumb on the pad. This one
you inserted the cred-stick, the pad was separate and was not self-sanitizing, so it had to be wiped after
every use, which Sim did religiously. It was a little outdated, but Andrea actually liked it. There was a
finality to the transaction. Nothing like the whoosh-boom-gone of current technology.
Sims restaurant was not like other places on the station. He charged a flat rate fee and you got
all you could eat, and a baggie to go. Most drinks came free with the meal, but the expensive ones cost
extra (and some of the vintages and spirits Sim had lurking out back were sure to cost ten times as
much as the meal itself.) But for all you could eat and a take-out bag, 16 credits was not a bad deal at
all. Besides, Sim would usually keep her company if it wasnt busy. Today it did not appear to be busy
at all. In fact Andrea, Sim, and Dougan appeared to be the only ones there.
I am very sorry to hear of your troubles, Sim looked over his shoulder and made a motion to
Dougan with his paw, who knew just what to do and went straight to work, grabbing a pot of freshly
brewed tea, and two small porcelain cups with saucers, heading for a table in the back. Allow me to
offer you a comfortable place to rest and a sympathetic ear. He motioned for her to follow him as he
padded along the bar top towards the back, and she did.
As they walked, Sim spoke, Alas, my dear, it would appear that troubles are afoot in many
places these days. Why, just yesterday there was another turf battle just up the way here, and it has
many of us on edge. There were a few casualties.
Sims face looked slightly pained as he said the word. He hopped down from the bar onto a
stool, then to the floor, across the isle, and back up into the booth. Dougan had already set a riser-chair
made specifically for Sim in the booth, and he situated himself in it, and motioned for her to sit. Andrea
sat down as Sim carefully poured two cups of the tea that was brought over. He appeared deep in
thought.
Casualties? Oh no, Sim what happened? she asked, worriedly.
It seems that recently, there has been some amount of unrest between many of the uplifted
about the coming election. This new candidate that they have running, a certain Mr. Alexi Mariner, is
wanting to separate us from what he calls the normal population. He seems to think of us as
something other than normal. This troubles me muchly.
Surely they cant be considering segregation. Your people have already fought that battle and
won! Andrea was understandably upset. That couldnt be true. At least, she sincerely hoped not. If
Mariner was going to try to separate the uplifted from the population, things would get ugly.
And a bloody battle it was. Sim almost growled at the words. But it would appear that is
exactly what the man wants to do. And I have a sickening feeling that he has already started by making
trouble here on the third tier. Sim lapped up a bit of hot tea after cooling it with his breath. Andrea
followed his lead. This was not sitting well with her at all. Dougan showed up with two bowls of (root-
chop) soup as an appatizer. Setting them gently down he looked to andrea.
May I get you anything else Ms. Holister? We have all sorts of drinks if you want to take a
look at the menu.
 No thank you, Dougan. And you can call me Andy. We have known each other for years. She
smiled at him. (The above is abysmal writing. Gotta change this scene if I dont tear it out all together!)

He returned her smile. Mr. Sim says I need to be more professional towards all of our patrons
because of what happened the other day. Dougans face darkened for a moment, then he straightened
and said, Your meal should be out shortly. Please enjoy the soup. And if you need anything just give
me a nod and I will be here to assist you and he backed through the doors into the kitchen,
disappearing as they (slapped/slid/floated/not sure what) shut. (or maybe just leave it with -as they shut.)
Andrea looked to Sim with a questioning look and Sim sighed and scratched the back of his
neck lightly.
I am afraid Dougan is only doing as I have asked him to. I do not want trouble in here for any of
our customers, and if a human, such as yourself was seen getting too friendly with us uplifted,
whoever is pulling the strings around here may try to send a message. A violent message... (does
everyone know about the damned plot to this fucking book?! Major rewrite. Onward) Sim took another bit of his tea
without looking up from under his cap.
Sim you never told me what happened yesterday. She nervously sipped her tea.

((OK. This needs to be said. On written paper there is a huge shitty part I am not writing because it
needed too much of a rewrite. I will re-write it later. Just go with what iis below for now. Period.))

I am so sorry Sim. I had no idea. Andrea was heart broken. She had known Arron as well as
Sim and Dougan. When Sim slowly looked up, there were tears on the edges of his eyes, but it was not
sorrow she saw in him. It was anger. Or Determination. No. It was clear what Andrea saw. It was
revenge. The look was so powerful that she instinctively pulled back her hand.
The news crews were there already. I have a suspicion that they were there before the fight
even started. Waiting for the perfect time to leap out and capture the carnage. I do not have any proof
yet, but I know it was all a set up. Sim said know with such conviction that andrea almost
immediately believed what he was saying was the truth. This was beyond just a gang war. He was right.
Sim poured himself some more cooling tea and drank it much more feverently. Like someone
drinks a beer more quickly to shut themselves up, or calm their nerves. Probably both in his case.
Andrea attempted to comfort him.
Sim, if there is anything I can do, please dont hesitate to ask.
To this, Sim seemed to glance up at her quickly, and then back into his tea cup.
Sim. What is it? There is no harm in asking. Worst case scenario I just say No.