Sunday, September 29, 2019

Fortune Botany

As I passed the craps table, the tumble of the dice caught my eyes. Something about the movement, but I couldn't place it. Then I saw the outcome of the roll, and immediately looked to see how the others were reacting. Nothing unusual, just the highs and lows of gambling on their faces as a few grumbled about "damn sevens always being there for someone else".

One dice showed seven dots, and the other had a blank side on top.

Baffled, I took the next opening to join in the game, making safe bets with the few chips I still had. I was shocked once again when I looked back to the dice, which were now a six and a one as the stickman slid them back to the three unused dice. The shooter of that roll was passable for a casino regular, but I caught a few details that subtly marked her as not entirely used to her wealth. A few stray hairs extending away from what would other was have been a uniform waterfall of black, the slight wrinkling in a pantsuit that should have gone to the dry cleaners yesterday, fingernails that were a day or two overdue for a manicure. Overall she rocked a sharp look, assuming you didn't look too closely.

She seemed to notice my interest in her, and quickly shot me a knowing smirk. When the dice came back around to her, she picked a pair without looking and tossed them with the lax attitude of someone who didn't give in to small rituals of good luck. The same strange movement reoccurred, but I couldn't quite put it into words. The first die came to a stop with eight dots on its upward side, and the second die . . .

There was something in the center, where the dot would go on the one face. But the actual one face was on the side facing towards me, and the emptiness in the center of the top face seemed to refuse my direct gaze. I stopped fighting with whatever reflex kept my eyes from looking at that, and noticed the other gamblers. There was a twitch or two in their eyes, but nothing they seemed to notice. They went on as if the total was a seven, and as soon as those dice moved they seemed to lose those impossible sides. This mistress of impossible odds must have noticed that I saw what nobody else would acknowledge, and beckoned me to the bar when the round ended.

We sat towards the further end, so the bartender wouldn't hear as easily while he mixed our orders. "How did you do that?" I said in a whisper, with a touch of urgency and fear I didn't intend. Despite not knowing what was in the center of a die face that apparently represented negative one, that void in a plane of white was fixed in my mind's eye.

She smiled, apparently amused by my reaction. Not at all afraid that she could get thrown out, or worse, if what I saw reached the casino management. "Do what? Roll sevens for those two rounds? Luck, obviously." She replied with a playful voice. The look in her eye told me she knew exactly what I was talking about.

"You know, rolling . . . other sides that aren't supposed to be there, and people still did the math without acting as if anything was wrong with that." I had to suppress my nervousness as the bartender brought our drinks. Mine was my go-to drink, a traditional whiskey sour, but this stranger's drink was something a cloudy black with a garnish of a grapefruit slice and a lavender sprig. I still regret not catching the name of that cocktail.

She delayed the answer, taking a sip while she seemed to savor my building intrigue as much as the drink. "Just luck." She said with an innocent shrug.

"Bullshit, luck doesn't do that for other people."

"Other people don't share my specialization in botany." She smiled as she reached into a pocket of her suit jacket, producing a vial containing a clover with seven leaves. "It's fairly simple once you know how to grow them."

I stared, confused. Four-leaf clovers were considered lucky by tradition, but that didn't mean anything, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for a mutation of the plant to produce seven leaves. That shouldn't be enough to alter her luck, let alone twist dice rolls into impossible pairings. "What?"

Then she produced another vial. Inside was a clover stem with no leaves to count. But then I caught the flicker. Something transparent that was shaped like a clover leaf was attached to the stem, but like with the negative pip on the die I couldn't force my eyes to focus on it. "The other part is understanding how to redistribute luck. Concentrate it into one clover, and another has to hold the debt of luck that generates. The results are pretty normal with five or six leaves, but the interesting results happen when burden clover has to grow a negative leaf. I'm guessing reality wasn't quite built to handle that much of a difference in fortune."

"Most people can't see the physical manifestation of excessive luck debt, and their brains won't let them acknowledge the result. You're the first natural I've encountered. It took me a week to train myself to look directly at the distortion." She leaned in unnervingly close. "I keep the work secret, of course. The pair intensify their effect when separated by more than a couple of feet, and that could lead to dangerous results in places that can't soak up that shift of luck. Here, I slip the burden clover into someone's pocket and the worst that happens is that they strike out for the night, and I can continue to fund my research entirely with my own winnings."

I took a moment to process the ethical implications of this, since the rest was well beyond my understanding. "But . . . why are you telling me this?"

She leaned back, shrugged and smiled playfully. "I think you're cute. And I make sure the research is well-protected enough that any investigation will prove it to be as nonsensical as most think it is." Popping the lid off of the 'burden' clover's vial, she flicked it in a way so it landed in a passing man's pocket without him noticing, presumably a result of her luck, though now I was much more vulnerable to doubting everything. She removed the seven-leaf clover from the other vial and placed it in my breast pocket. "Consider your fortune for the rest of this night to be my treat." With a wink, she downed the rest of her drink and walked away, leaving me stunned and gaping.

I'd like to meet her again, but after seeing my results for the rest of my gambling for that evening I can only assume it will only happen if she's the one that considers it lucky to do so.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

A Day at the Pet Shop

“Ok, that should do it. Let me check the notes again . . . longitude, latitude, altitude, chrona and fracta coordinates are at target values.” Andrik lifted his hand from the keyboard, self-consciously clasping it to his other hand to try to hide the shaking.. “Huh, you’re right. It’s not that hard.”

“Like I said, the computation performs the task for us. The important part of piloting the transit is confirming its accuracy as it happens.” A heavy voice with a slight rumbling rasp to it replied from behind Andrik. “I’ll have you pilot the next few transits, and consider you trained once you demonstrate consistent adherence to procedure, without showing that irrational fear that the fabric of spacetime will bite you like a snake.”

Andrik took a deep breath to calm himself. “Of course boss.” He turned to face the figure. Many things had frightened him when he first took on this job, and most of that fear had passed. But looking at Annak still gave him a slight chill. Over twelve feet tall and sporting a black and tan pattern in his feathers, Annak glared down at Andrik with eyes that were probably trying to appear friendly but fell short of the goal. Andrik suspected that Indian Eagle owls were the closest analogue in appearance, barring the vast difference in size, but Annak didn’t talk about his kind much beyond what was necessary to keep the staff here from going mad with dangerous speculation. Well, unsettling or not, Annak had a good enough mind for management that his presence didn’t detriment the workplace so much as make it more interesting. “I should get back to my other work.”

Annak nodded, a small movement for him that moved his beak over a foot in an arc that had until recently always startled Andrik. “Since we’re in a stable timeline, the preventative maintenance can wait a little bit. See if Zara needs help with modifying the containment unit. I want to make sure it’s ready by the time we have a lead on the target.” The massive owl turned, stepping outside of the room with a grace that seemed impossible with his form. With ceilings rising twenty feet and doors properly sized to be usable for both humans and Annak’s species, it was easy to feel small in the facility.

-----

Zara took another look at the panel that came out of the fabricator. She didn’t know what she was expecting the result to look like, but the plexiglass panel coming out pitch black actually made sense given its purpose. Since it was a small piece, one foot by two feet and only one inch thick, she didn’t need to use the crane for moving it over to the emitter machine.

Andrik entered the workshop just as Zara started cycling through different light wavelengths on the machine. “Yo Zara, I just ran my first transit!” He walked over to the fabricator, reading over the specs loaded in from when Zara had used it. “What’s the point of black plexiglass? If you’re not supposed to see through it, we have better materials for the job.”

Zara considered for a moment. Everyone was jittery with their first time using the transit engine, so acting confused and replying with Who is Zara? How did you get in here? might be a bit cruel. Existential horror wasn’t going to settle Andrik’s nerves with jumping timelines. She finally settled for casual and polite. “Just like Annak says, we don’t really do anything. And it’s for the best that we don’t.” The emitter completed the tests, confirming the panel was in spec. “This is designed to only allow ultraviolet light through. The target creature is supposedly able to photon drift on the visible spectrum, so this will be the only way to observe it in real time without it escaping the containment unit or damaging the monitoring equipment.” She removed the panel and hefted it into Andrik’s arms. “Here, I need to configure the unit’s camera to match. You’re better at fitting fabricated parts anyway.”

Andrik sighed and went to work on installing the panel. “Photon drifting? That doesn’t sound very dangerous. Think I could convince Annak to let me tag along for this retrieval?”

Zara shook her head. Andrik did need some amount of experience with field work eventually, but he was hired for his skill at maintaining the facility, not for his sense of wildlife danger. “Photon drifting is the only thing we know about it until we encounter it in the field. Being able to ride on ambient light means that it will be able to instantly reposition itself to wherever it can best use its dangerous attributes. Imagine a snake that lunges at you from the front, vanishes, then sinks its fangs into your back before you can even process that it left your field of vision. Given that, it’ll just be you and Annak in the facility, and you know Annak can’t run shop duty.”

Andrik seemed to think about the potential dangers explained to him, then tried to play off the now-apparent trepidation that resulted from those thoughts. “Well, I guess we can’t leave the facility unattended. It’s important work making sure this place doesn’t catch on fire-”

You’re the one who fireproofed the facility.” Zara cut in.

“-or you know, make sure Annak doesn’t get himself into trouble.” Andrik seemed to realize how weak the justification seemed to be, and focused on getting the panel installed.

Zara ducked down closer to the wiring access to hide her smirk.

-----

Boredom had Andrik by the throat. Or maybe it was bleeding him out. He wasn’t sure what form of slow murder was a good metaphor for what he was feeling as he stood behind the counter, gazing at empty aisles. Smothering? Maybe. He never understood why Annak insisted on having a pet store to act as a front for the facility, especially since very little of what was present could be consistently found across timelines. The afternoon was still early, and he couldn’t close the “store” until what would make sense for a real retail business with real retail business hours.

Just as he felt he was getting the hang of zoning out without necessarily appearing zoned out, the bell to the front door jingled. A jolt of dread passed through him. He wasn’t a people person, and had only tolerated the fast food work long enough to get his master’s degree in electrical engineering. He should be in the back rooms performing routine preventative maintenance instead of reliving the nightmare of customer service.

The customer appeared to be a woman in her early twenties, dressed in what he assumed was american casual wear. Andrik vaguely thought the transit had landed the facility in North America, but he hadn’t taken the time to check. Instincts of good service flooded back into him, urging him to initiate the interaction. “Good afternoon.” Andrik said, maintaining a smile that was more pleasant than he felt. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure. My puppy likes to chew up my apartment after I leave for my classes, and I’ve been stumped on how to deal with it. He has half a dozen toys and still prefers to chew the corner of the couch.” She replied, seeming preoccupied with thinking through this problem. If she saw through the Andrik’s false presentation of his state of mind, she didn’t show it. “Is there something that I can spray on my furniture to deter him from chewing on everything? Or something of similar effect?”

Andrik didn’t know. He didn’t have pets in his life, and reacted with wary surprise whenever a domesticated animal showed interest without hostility. “A spray solution could stop the problem, but wouldn’t deal with the source issue.” He said automatically. This was the other part about working the pet shop that unsettled him. Gaps in knowledge were filled in by something else when you were in this room, assuming you worked for Annak. Any question relevant to the store’s subject matter would always have an answer, and Andrik had been told that language barriers weren’t a problem here. He suspected the apron he wore was the source, but he didn’t want to test his theory since the effect was only noticeable when customers were present.

Wondering if this was what spiritual possession felt like, he let the unbidden flow of words tumble out of him.

“That kind of chewing is generally a behavior of anxiety, or just excess energy in general.” He walked over to one of the nearby shelves. It disturbed him that he didn’t know which item he needed to show off until his hand reached for it. A perforated rubber ball was in his hand a moment later. At least he thought it was rubber, but something about the texture was off. “Properly redirecting his energy will help. These are made with a modified rubber recipe that is nontoxic, and provides just the right texture so that most dogs will be content to chew on it over any other material. More exercise and play will also help when possible, but this is a good solution for when you’re not around.” He handed the customer one of the toys.

She gave the rubber an appraising squeeze, looking from it to the price tags. “How durable are these? He’s a Moravian bloodhound, and with those serrated teeth most toys won’t last a week.”

Andrik was certain his eye had twitched. Dogs with serrated teeth? And wasn’t Moravia one of those countries that didn’t exist anymore? Maybe it did here. The things that could slide out of place between the branches of time kept surprising him. “Even serrated teeth will take more than a year to tear these apart. He’ll stay well-occupied with these.”

She smiled, seeming satisfied, and picked two more of the same toy off the shelf. “It’ll be worth stocking up then. I’m glad I saw this place when I was driving by. This isn’t in the online listing for pet supply stores.”

“Verification problems with Google would be my guess.” Andrik said as he walked back to the register. He knew that was one of the common excuses used for the seeming transience of the facility to outsiders, he just wished he was certain that response wasn’t prompted by the apron. With the customer satisfied, he was able to return to a state where he was more certain that his thoughts were truly his own..

-----

Andrik was lying on the couch in the living quarters lounge, mostly-empty beer in hand as he let whatever was on the TV blur into background noise, when he caught the faint sound of the garage opening. As he turned off the TV and stretched, he thought that the van sounded off. A clunk that was heard at the wrong intervals, or something similar that he couldn’t quite consciously grasp. He hoped it wasn’t bad.

And the van looked like it had driven under the beginnings of a rockslide. Dents in the side of the vehicle made Andrik think of someone muscular and angry punching it for traffic violations. As the others hauled away the containment unit, he was certain the sides of it had been flat when he saw it earlier today, he found Zara walking towards him, a slight limp to her step.

“Holy shit. Your photon drifting snake did that?” He was gesturing more towards the van than to her, but Zara seemed to take it as an expression of concern for the crew.

“Not a snake, an armadillo. Little shit would roll into a ball, then conserve momentum from the photon drift to batter predators. We’re fine, a few bruises and some dents to the van. I suspect it didn’t use the full speed of the drift since it wasn’t especially armored, and could easily splatter itself on an unyielding surface if it stopped showing restraint.” She seemed rather cheerful despite how she clearly felt about the animal they just captured. She was even in the mood for teasing. “Did you burn down the shop while we were out?”

“Some of the dog breeds here have serrated teeth.” Andrik’s voice had a hollowness to it, though he wouldn’t have been able to place if it was from this new canine fact, or the condition of the vehicle he was still staring at. He was certain the dents were more than superficial. He’d need to do a full checkup it tomorrow to make sure the sound of something out of place was just his imagination.

The information didn’t seem to phase Zara. “That’s not so bad, and not too uncommon to find in our transits. They’re still just as loveable regardless of that harmless trait.” She started walking towards the interior of the facility as she lazily waved farewell. “Well, you should be back to the job you know best tomorrow. I need to go sleep this day off.”