A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(15)

Sidra had forgotten about that part. ‘Oh. Right.’

‘You’ll get a cut from the shop’s monthly profits. Haven’t worked out how much yet, but I promise it’ll be fair. And that’s separate from room and board. You having a roof over your head is not contingent on you working here, so if you want to go do something else, that’s fine. You’re not indentured, okay? At the end of every couple tendays, we’ll divvy things up, and I’ll transfer—’ She snapped her fingers. The sound fell flat through the gloves. ‘We need to set you up with a bank account. Don’t worry, I know someone who can fix that for us. Works for the GC, but she’s good people. Does not mind turning a blind eye if you don’t have the right formwork, and does not ask a lot of questions. Also has an amazing collection of antique Harmagian ground carts that she uses at parties. Early colonial era, really gorgeous craftsmanship. I’ll drop her a note.’

Sidra set aside the shop rules file and created another: my job. ‘So what will I be doing?’

‘Since Blue isn’t here any more, I need someone to be an extra pair of eyes and hands. I’m thinking you’ll be wherever I’m not. If I’m doing something big and noisy in the back, you’ll be up front, greeting folks, handing over finished stuff, selling packaged things that don’t need my input. If I’m up front, you can clean up in the back. If there’s an errand that needs doing, you can go out and about, or I can go out and do my thing, and you can hold down the fort.’ She cocked her head. ‘How does that sound, for starters?’

Sidra processed that. In some ways, it wasn’t so different from her intended purpose. She’d be monitoring the safety of the shop and responding to requests. She’d perform tasks as directed. She’d be Pepper’s eyes where she couldn’t see. ‘I can do that.’

Pepper studied her. ‘I’m sure you can. But do you want to do that?’

Sidra processed that, too, and came up empty. ‘I can’t answer that, because I don’t know.’ When she was given a task, she performed the task. When a request was made, she filled the request as best she could. That . . . that was her job. That was her point. If things hadn’t gone the way they’d gone on the Wayfarer, if she’d stayed in the core she’d first been installed in, would anyone have said to her: Hello, Lovelace! Welcome! It’s time for you to start monitoring the ship – but only if you want to?

She doubted it.

Pepper put her hand on the kit’s shoulder and smiled. ‘What do you say we just get started and see how you like it, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Sidra said, relieved to set that processing loop aside. ‘How does the day start?’

‘First things first, I check two feeds: the shop’s message box, and Picnic.’ She gestured at a small pixel projector sitting on the counter. A cloud of pixels burst forth into the air, arranging themselves to display Pepper’s default feeds in twin translucent rectangles. The feed on the left was easy enough to decipher.





NEW MESSAGES


New request: engine overhaul – Prii Olk An Tosh’kavon

Status check: scrib won’t turn on – Chinmae Lee

New request: hello do you know anything about hydroponic equipment I think one of my pumps is broken – Kresh

Query: would you accept live red coasters as payment – toad

Query: not actually a query, the new build works beautifully, thank you!!!!!!!!! – Mako Mun



The feed on the right, however, was more of a mystery. Given that it had taken the pixels longer to arrange themselves there, there was likely encryption at work.

hello pinch. welcome to the picnic.

mech (big)

mech (small)

bio

nano

digital

experimental

intelligent

protective

spaceworthy



The kit blinked. ‘What’s that?’

Pepper nodded at the right feed. ‘Picnic is an unlisted social feed for techs all over the GC who like to make connections with people who know stuff that . . . let’s just say, the Port Authority might not approve of. Officially, at least.’

The kit wet its lips as Sidra considered that. Port Coriol’s black market was no secret, but it was a little disquieting to know she was looking through one of its windows. She had no grounds to disapprove of illegal activities – given that she was one – but all the same, she hoped she wasn’t in a place where she’d be easier to discover.

Pepper noticed the pause. ‘Don’t worry. Here, look.’ She gestured at biotech, and skimmed through the dozens of discussion threads, searching for something. ‘Ah, there he is. You see this user, FunkyFronds? He’s the inspector who checks out my shop every standard. I play it safe.’

‘Is a lot of your business, ah . . .’ Sidra wasn’t sure how to phrase the question politely.

‘My business is giving people what they need. You heard my rules. I don’t do anything dangerous or stupid. The thing is, a lot of laws are stupid, too, and they don’t always keep people out of danger. What can I say? I’m a woman of principle.’ She winked. ‘Come on, I’ve thought up your first task. Sorry – job. Your first job. It is, perhaps, the most important thing.’