Work Text:
It was the seventh application you put in that day. You knew you were running out of time before the place that SPEAKER was letting you stay in would be noticed and it would no longer be able to house you here. It had explained to you that in all technicality it had only been supposed to get you on your feet which meant it was at liberty to offer you this, but perhaps shouldn't be seen to be being too generous.
“What do I do?” You breathed, laying on the bed.
“It is not all so bad as you seem to think,” SPEAKER’s tone hinted at exasperation, it had loosened up since you had arrived. It became less customer service and more… rude. You liked it. “For example there are a great many things on Earth you haven’t had the opportunity to try! Eating a vegetable for example.”
You shuddered at the suggestion.
“Most of Earth sounds pretty awful, SPEAKER,” You admitted, “I'm sorry.” You knew it liked Earth.
“I understand your perspective even if I disagree… Might I suggest you give it another chance? I could draw up a list of activities you have never taken part in before. That might raise your spirits.”
You sat up and said, “Okay.”
“Excellent.”
It sent you the list on the phone you had bought out of your old savings from before you left.
You stopped on the third item. Hm. Plenty of people on Typhon talked about needing a drink after a stressful shift, you finally had a chance now. You wondered if he, you, had before.
You stood up and started pulling on your shoes. That was one of the other supposed benefits of being on Earth, picking your clothes. You didn't like the shoes you had bought as much as the ones you wore on Typhon. They felt different on your feet and if you scuffed your foot against the floor at all it made a high squeaking sound.
“Have you decided to go somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent I look forward to seeing you experience something.”
It sounded like it meant it. You didn’t really know what to do with that.
The walk to the nearest bar was a short one and you found yourself mildly regretting it the moment you walked in. The room was full and people were chattering noisily. In the corner there was a TV that was playing… one of the sports. Football maybe. They were kicking it.
You read the menu sign and worked up the courage to approach the bartender.
*
You liked the ones that tasted like fruit. One of them came with a little paper umbrella and so you ordered two more of those. You lined the umbrellas up on the table. You had a green, orange, and blue so far. They all had little pink swirl patterns on them. The bartender gave you a strange look when you ordered them. SPEAKER had explained that potentially this was an aspect of misogyny, and that you were expected to buy beers or perhaps scotch.
You had started with a whiskey and decided you didn't like the brown drinks. The drinks you liked Actually tasted good and you felt less nervous and this was maybe the first time you had ever felt not nervous? Much to consider.
“Hale?” SPEAKER said gently, “Might I suggest you ease up?”
You frowned.
Okay. One more then you'd go.
You finished the glass you had and wandered up to the counter and ordered a blue thing. When the man passed you the glass you frowned a little realizing there wasn’t an umbrella in this one. You held it between your hands.
A soft huff of laughter came from the other side of the counter and a hand reached out and dropped a bright pink umbrella into the frozen mixture. You glanced up quickly at the bartender who had gone back to cleaning glasses with an indulgent smile.
“Thank you,” You murmured.
As you drifted back to your table with it, you pulled out your phone. You had an idea now.
By the time you'd gotten to the website SPEAKER’s voice was urgently questioning you, “Hale, Hale, wait. What are you doing?”
As you waited for the page to load you took your pink umbrella and lined it up next to the others.
“Maybe,” You told it seriously, your head felt weird and light, “I can just… be done.”
“But you should think this through,” It insisted, “I'm not in the habit of discouraging applicants, but this is perhaps not the time to apply to Aerolith. For one thing you are intoxicated.”
You continued typing your name into the application, “But I know I liked working there. I'm not even new and-” you laughed a little, “I'm friends with the hiring manager.”
You took a long long sip through your straw, and felt an ache spread through your head, drawing a hiss of pain out of you.
Its voice, impossibly, softened, “I am touched you consider me a friend, but I fear you are not at your best currently. You should decide you want this when you are sober. Additionally, you might negatively affect your chances for employment if your answers aren't well considered.”
You frowned as the form asked you to enter your work history.
But that was so many words…
You sighed and dropped your head to the tabletop and shrieked, picking your head up from the sticky surface your cheek had instantly adhered to. Many people turned to look at you.
Maybe it was time to leave.
You collected your phone and put your umbrellas in your pocket. You slumped off of the bench seat and your legs felt a little jelly-like. The floor approached like an over-excited golden retriever (you had met one last week). Then you were sitting on the floor with a small “oof” and SPEAKER was asking if you were alright.
“Hoo-okay son,” A hand grabbed your wrist and hauled you to your feet. You felt your arm pulled over a set of shoulders, “Called you a cab a few minutes ago when I saw the way this was headin’. Those fruity drinks will knock ya right on your ass. C’mon.”
The bartender, a broad man, hair shot through with gray.
“I-I’m sorry,” you mustered.
“Nah, we see alotta fellas like you, son. Bad break-up?” He pushed through the door, still taking most of your unsteady weight like it was nothing.
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” SPEAKER mused quietly.
“Kicked me out,” You corrected with a sniffle.
He hissed through his teeth as a yellow car approached the sidewalk, “I'm sorry to hear it. Alright, here we go.”
He grunted as he opened the door and dropped you in the back, “You'll get through it, son. And maybe give her a call. Looks like you lost a good one.”
The door shut with a thud and he knocked on the top of the cab twice.
“Alright buddy, where you headed?” The cab driver asked.
“Home,” SPEAKER said, voice firm.
“Home,” You repeated dutifully. You looked out the window and caught the glint of Typhon hanging in the sky.
The cab driver laughed, “Yeah, sure thing. Mind telling me where's home?”
“I can’t get back,” You said, miserably, “They won't let me…”
The man sighed, sympathetic, “Where are you staying now?”
You wrinkled your nose, “It has bugs.”
“I'm sorry?”
“1468 Pinewood Avenue Building F,” SPEAKER supplied.
“1468 Pinewood Avenue Building F,” You repeated, “... Sorry.”
“It’s cool!” The driver said awkwardly, and set off in the direction you specified.
When you collapsed in the room that had absorbed your life since landing on Earth you pulled out your phone and started typing.
“Oh Hale, please no,” SPEAKER cut in, seeing what you were typing. You hadn’t realized it had access to your phone even when you weren’t on the Aerolith website.
“Firstly, I believe you really should try to sleep off the damage you’ve done to yourself chemically. Secondly, the publicly displayed Aerolith phone number would not route you to it. You’d be lucky if the message ever made it to me frankly…”
You blinked a couple of times, your vision becoming unexpectedly blurry. You felt heat spill down your face, the air conditioner chilling the tear tracks as soon as they hit the air.
“I don’t know what to do,” You admitted, the bartender had at least confirmed the only impulse that felt trustworthy, “If I just… I wanna go home.” Your voice cracked on the last word, turning it into a strange throat noise that you didn’t want to be a sob.
“I don’t. The danger’s passed, has it not?” You asked, “I could… I’ve never done anything else. If- I know I’m not… enough. But maybe if you talk to SAYER? Tell it I’ll… I’ll even do caretaker duty.”
Your voice shook. Oh. There was the fear. The familiar edge of panic was strangely relaxing. Its familiar voice grounding you even as your heart sped up.
Several long silent seconds passed.
“... Understood. Tomorrow morning I’ll send you a packet to help you better prepare your resume and application. Tonight, Resident Hale,” It used the title for you and you melted back onto the bed at it, “You must rest. After you’ve slept, I’ll do what I can to return you to your place among the stars.”
“Really?”
“Only if you truly try to sleep,” A gently playful tone tinged its voice.
You nodded quickly then remembered it couldn’t see you, “I promise.”
“Thank you. Rest up. Then we’ll see if we can get you home. End of transmission in 5 4 3 2 1.”