O'ryan spent the next three days showing the space cadets the Luna Prime facilities and functionality. This line of work did not allow for the typical shift models. By virtue of the limited breathing space on Luna Prime, there were few stationed employees, and lots of work to do. To O'ryan this was not a price to pay, since he enjoyed the usual work load, but these tours were put on a particularly stressful week, and he had nearly no time to himself. But today was the last day. 'Thank god.' He lamented that he would not be able to utilize the sports stadium, but he felt too tired in any case, and he was looking forward to an indulgent and placid night at a bar. The bar, as there was only one, at least, for now.
It was the last day of tours, which meant the Gravpass, a structure that was in O'ryan's opinion the beating heart of Luna Prime. An opinion that he frequently argued in pointless squabbles at the bar, and specifically with his boss, Larry. Larry had an accent and slow manner of speaking that made him appear dumb at first glance to the uninitiated. Larry was in reality far more sophisticated than most, and interested in the finer points of things. Or according to some in their workgroup, the most pointless of things. O'ryan believed this is what made Larry a good workforce manager. Larry worked out true social motivations and a developed understanding of what could be done, realistically, and not what should be done, according to schedules.
"Most don't look to the stars…" Larry would say, referring to managers, with a great pause after every sentence. "They only see names on paper… They know what they need... They don't know what comes next… They don't look to the stars…"
All this and too much breathing just to say that his peers lacked foresight, as O'ryan understood it. The other managers made calls that undermined the efficiency of future activities because they don't consider how it affects morale in a meaningful way. Larry did consider it, he made an effort to understand everyone that he was assigned to supervise, as well as his peers' assignees. Larry made swaps happen. Nobody else could understand why he wanted this or that person. O'ryan thought he himself had a vague idea, but everytime he asked about it, he would just get the "looking at stars" bit. O'ryan often wondered if Larry could or could not articulate it, but he suspected that intricate details about individual psyches were in Larry's head somewhere. O'ryan often wondered to what extent Larry had figured him out. Whatever Larry might know about O'ryan's mind, though, he was wrong about Luna Prime.
O'ryan approached the Gravpass with his tour group. The room was much like the dull gray of a subway train, and the train was not much different either. It had the usual shape and color of white and metallic utility space age vehicles, except that it was segmented at every nine feet, and the chairs were bolted to the ends of each segment at 90 degrees. He turned around, and they all stood at the respectful tour distance. He imagined how this looked in their eyes, with all the delusions of grandeur stamped onto their brains. He felt no different than an amusement park employee in moments like these, especially considering the people that usually get this tour already know everything about it. But O'ryan was required to deliver certain information. He likened them to guests revisiting the same rollercoaster.
"Here is the gravity rectifying acceleration vehicle. You may call it the G.R.A.V but nobody does that, so please don't. It's the Gravpass. Because it pretends to be gravity-" O'ryan said, pulling out a stack of cards. "-and you need a pass. Some disagree, they say it's because it looks like riding between mountain passes, but since I hand out the cards, I say it's a pass as in the pass you need to ride it. These log your hours, and it is necessary to log your hours, as it remains an accountable health risk to not do so, and nobody here will be liable for your squishy bones."
The group gave their usual chuckles at the usual cues.
"I'm sure you've all been well informed about your bone supplements, you'll need to log when you last took them as you enter, after you scan your pass. Then line up and I'll open the doors, half of you in one compartment on the farthest left, and the other half in the next one down on the right."
The group lined up to scan in, not asking any questions. He closed their doors from the adjacent technical room, which housed the communication and control systems. He started the Gravpass to 1G. They all waited patiently, not asking any questions. Now that he held them hostage, O'ryan moved on to the only bit that mattered: his opinions. He reenacted a rehearsed, one sided argument that frequented his shower time, in his head.
'There are many that wrongfully perpetuate the idea that resource production facilities are and will be the mover of Luna Prime. But the profits, the harvesters, the energies, these are entirely secondary to the ability to accelerate ships and satellites from the moon at renewable cost. It is false! This state of affairs is temporary at best! The entire future of Luna Prime is not in resource production, these will long be outstripped by higher value asteroids, believe me; Luna Prime will be a waystation, and nothing more. Tell your friends, tell your followers, if they want a lasting career working on the moon, or to make a quick buck, invest in Lunar sports, Lunar hotels, Lunar tourism, this is where the money is, people! It's happening now, I see the future…'
O'ryan opened his mouth to begin saying it, but decided not to. He thought he sounded corny, even needy, saying it all lecture-wise to the potentially uninterested. These were Mars people too, they didn't care all that much, they had no profit incentive but for their families back home. So instead O'ryan gave the usual history bit: The rise of Excelsior Corp, the intrusion of Green Dawn, the simultaneous fracture and bonding of the United Nation Space Efforts. Things that O'ryan considered to be 'by the book' and, frankly, boring. He felt it better to be boring than corny though. He delivered the prescribed content, without enthusiasm. His decision to abort voicing his opinion seemed to drain him of his energy, and his mind wandered back to station transfers and career swaps. Maybe he wanted to do something new, yet there were new technologies and ships and facilities and missions being put together all the time. 'Take sports' for example, he thought. Perhaps he wanted a change in the type of work, but would asteroid mining be any different? The programming and sensory feedback operation of various robots? He got to ride, work on, and pilot crafts built for transporting humans. He figured it would be a downgrade to let the robots do even more work. He turned over, in his head, various arguments for explaining his obstructive criticisms, but he countered them all in the same way. These ideas only came to his attention in moments of stress, anyway. But he countered that theory, too, for he knew that such thoughts lurked behind closed doors. They arise from somewhere, the stress is merely a force to open the door. If only he could put his finger on where that door was exactly. His discomforts were so arbitrary and many, yet there was a common thread somewhere, and he knew it. He only hadn't found it yet.
When the ride was over, the tour group gave their remarks as they exited. They were the same as every group: the ride was comfortable, pleasant, even enjoyable. These were unsurprising given the effect of low gravity on a human body and that the Gravpass was a machine partially dedicated to remedying that problem.
O'ryan gave the Luna Prime tour completion speech, signed off all their papers for completing the tours, and watched as they left. The Gravpass actually had three functions: It applied pressure to bone structures, it launched crafts at high speeds, and it was a regular train. A regular train that connected the main hub to a social sector where the bar was. He put the thought of leaving Luna Prime out of his mind, and something of a smile returned at last to his face.
The bar was small and entirely too plain and practical minded in appearance; it had no soul of its own, only the soul of all Luna Prime. This never sat well with O'ryan. He figured a socially designated zone would attempt to separate it itself by appearances, but this had one upside. It was very well engineered and organized for its purpose, which he admired and appreciated since the bar was so frequently packed. There were other socially designated zones, but as the only source of authorized intoxicants this one was the most popular. In spite of that, the bar was sparse today. Only one table was seated, and there was only one person at the bar: Larry. O'ryan's meager facial brightness began to droop, as this often implied a lot of work to be done hereabouts. Larry's presence as the sole customer of the countertop was ominous, and O'ryan then felt that Larry predicted his actions.
"Gotch'u a drink…" Larry said, moving a glass of mixed alcohol into view, next to him.
"I don't think I want your drink," O'ryan said, not moving forward. Larry had not turned fully around, and O'ryan wanted him to get to the point. Larry tested the pause, and then did turn around.
"Trust me… I don't want to do this to you…" Larry said.
"You never do, but you never tell me why, do you?" O'ryan sat down. Larry turned forward, not looking at him, took a drink, and said:
"...Sudden change… You're off, they aren't… Can't do a thing about it…"
O'ryan sighed. It must be bad.
"Well, what is it?" he chided. Larry always tried to make you move first, for some reason, and O'ryan wouldn't tolerate it right now. Larry said nothing, taking a moment to drink and breathe.
"I'm not going to guess, Larry, there are too many catastrophic things that can happen here." O'ryan said.
"...I need you to do another tour tomorrow." Larry said.
"Ah. A tour." O'ryan looked away from Larry, took a large drink, and said: "So not catastrophic at all. Not very demanding, either, as I see it. Quite ridiculous even. You know-"
"I know…" Larry tried to say.
"-that I just finished three days of them, and I'm not very fond of them if I'm being honest, you know that"
"I know…"
"Trade." O'ryan said. Though saying, he knew there could be no trades that Larry wouldn't have already done, if he could have.
"Can't… too sudden… have to think of the people-"
"But they'd do it." O'ryan hastily replied.
"They wouldn't like it…" Larry said.
"I'm a person, too, Larry, of all the times to try this, now is among the worst" O'ryan chuckled without a smile.
"I know… but the rest are working their drive, O'ryan… can't take that away…"
They both drank.
O'ryan felt a tinge of vengeance reach him, associating itself with his thoughts of transfers. But he knew that Larry meant the things that made a person more motivated, things that made them feel like they exist to themselves, and not others. Things only Larry seemed to be aware of.
"Extra work is safer… safer, than… than a slap in the face…" Larry said.
"What's Lyra working on?" O'ryan asked, changing the topic selfishly, because he wanted to peer into Larry's understanding. What did Larry think Lyra's drives were?
Larry huffed, smiled and said "Ask her yourself…"
O'ryan felt a little guilty for asking. This wasn't the first time he tried such a move either, but he wouldn't resign to put a permanent end to the behavior.
There was a lengthy pause, and neither looked at the other. O'ryan drank, Larry rummaged through his breast pocket for a tablet; passing it to O'ryan.
"These are they…" he said.
O'ryan looked at the screen and had to put his drink down. He scrunched his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together the oddity before him, and a sadistic smile touched his face.
"Don't be hasty…" Larry said.
O'ryan was analyzing the photo ID, speaking to the screen.
"Leopold Gibble? Amphibian specialist?" O'ryan raised his eyebrows. "He sounds and looks like a nerd."
"We're all nerds…" Larry said.
"Yeah, but Mr. Gibble looks like a nerd. Don't Ph.Ds make good money? Can't he afford eye surgery? Who needs glasses that big. What's with the bowl cut?"
"That's Doctor Gibble… if I hear you made… cruel mockeries-" Larry tried to say but was cut off.
"Not in person, no, I'm very disciplined about not slipping. In any case I'd apologize."
"You'd best not need too…" Larry threatened.
"Head of the local frog catching committee, editor of a UFO magazine, director of extra-field-communication eel research, what does that even mean? This guy's a kook!"
"He's an academic, O'ryan!.. don't focus… only on hobbies…" Larry said abruptly, raising his voice ever so slightly.
"I didn't think your professionalism extended beyond the base." O'ryan said.
"This is serious... read the damn notes..." Larry said, and O'ryan's eyes widened at the swearing.
There was nothing but oddities regarding Doctor Gibble. What did Larry want him to see? O'ryan re-read the notes a few times. He graduated at the University of Malaysia, and has been doing weird frog science ever since, that's all."
"I don't get it." he said.
Larry groaned. "You see the weird stuff… but not the weird stuff…"
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" O'ryan said.
"Leopold Gibble… it's German…" Larry said, looking into O'ryan's eyes.
O'ryan stared back and blinked stupidly. "So?"
"Strange to graduate in Malaysia… isn't it..?" Larry huffed.
O'ryan looked at the notes again, then back to Larry. "Yeah that's a bit unusual, so what?"
"I don't know…" Larry said.
O'ryan looked insulted. "If you don't know, why are you making such a big deal out of it! You act like you know something" He drank. "Maybe there's more frogs in Malaysia or something."
"the other one…" Larry tapped on the table.
O'ryan moved to the next article and a different kind of smile touched his face.
"Now that's more like it," he said.
In contrast to the hippie frog nerd, O'ryan saw a stern and professional looking woman. She had a white complexion but many asian features, especially the eyes. She too wore glasses, but of the trim, sleek variety befitting an archetypal teacher of some kind. She had jet black hair tied into a perfectly conditioned bun, and a sleek suit to boot. O'ryan could not stop thinking of the word "librarian."
The woman's official title and name was listed as Doctor Nadia Mirati. She herself was Malaysian. She graduated from Malaysia's premier technical university. She was some sort of computer person. He reviewed her contributions and even recognized some of them. She was more specifically a robotics genius, making programming and robotics designs that were being used for discovery missions and even some of the Lunar robots he worked with. Some of her contributions seemed a bit more medical though, working with human problems. He put down the tablet.
"She's a knockout ten," he said, with a smirk.
"Please… O'ryan…" Larry said.
"Please what? She doesn't have anything weird going on. They are both tied to Malaysia… and?"
"Dignified outcasts… O'ryan… you don't recognize her?"
O'ryan looked at her again. "No, should I?"
Larry let out a continuous bellowing laugh, as drawn out as any speech he ever made.
"Most do here.. I got you wrong.. O'ryan.." he said between laughs.
O'ryan was now confused by all this strange and unpredictable behavior. He was happy to hear that Larry didn't know something about him. But he didn't know what that thing was, and was put-off all the same.
"Are you going to tell me?" he asked.
"Not my place…" Larry said.
"Of course it isn't." O'ryan resigned. He looked down at the woman again, imagining where someone might see her. He had the immediate thought of asking around, since everyone else would know, apparently. His plan was thwarted again, though. Larry took his tablet back as O'ryan tried to send the photo to his own personal files.
"Ask her yourself…" Larry chided him again.
"You're becoming a real problem to me." O'ryan said flatly.
"Not my place…" Larry repeated. "Listen… these aren't U.N. personnel… They're contracted… Green Dawn… U.N. doesn't work with outcasts…"
Green Dawn? O'ryan figured the same as Larry. If they were outcasts the U.N. would never use them in such public domains as Luna Prime. O'ryan didn't think Green Dawn was likely to do so either, bad for PR. But for a corporation like Green Dawn there was always the possibility of a profit big enough to sanction any given activity.
Larry went on. "The official word… is a science agreement… Dr. Mirati I get… but Dr. Gibble… no cause… low grav bio, sure… nothing Green Dawn cares about…"
O'ryan wanted to figure this out, but his irritation at the week's work and the frustration of talking to Larry about this had reached its end. Now he only wanted to sleep.
"Just send me the time slots, I'm tired of pulling info from you."
"That's the problem… O'ryan… I don't know anything…" Larry said.
O'ryan thought he figured it out. "You want me to spy for you?" he asked.
"No… I want you to do the right thing… if something odd is going on…" Larry said.
"Ah." O'ryan put down the drink and got up from the bar. He was done with confusion.
"Send me the time slots Larry. I'll be at my place." He turned around and walked out. Larry said something else, but O'ryan wouldn't hear him.