Work Text:
Beep, beep, beep, click.
The alarm is shrill, but brief. I open my eyes. November 1st, meaning it's script day.
Thanking the first God that comes to mind that I don't need to film today, I stare at the ceiling for a bit.
My legs grow restless. I get out of bed. I stand instantly, and immediately reach for the side table. My head spins. Adelaide tells me I should have more iron in my diet, but I prefer whatever's convenient. I do have supplements, though. Once my vision clears, I move to the bathroom adjoined with my room to take them.
‘My room’ is a hyperbolic term. The studio’s break room has become my bedroom in all but title, the clothing and garbage strewn about to prove it, but it's still meant for receiving guests.
Speaking of garbage, I should pick some things up before I get started with this month’s scripts.
Emerging from the bathroom, I reach for a garbage bag in the cabinet below the microwave and get to cleaning. Mostly empty cups and wrappers, laundry can be done on the weekends and tossed into the basket in the meantime. The bag is set outside the door, tied off with a neat bow to be tossed by the janitors in the afternoon.
I barely make it to my laptop when I hear the clicking of heels against the hallway tile. Adelaide must have seen the garbage bag and realized that I’m awake.
“Ritz,” she bids before knocking, “I know you're up. I have schedules, don't make me ping your VeeTee through the door.”
My gaze naturally trails to the VeeTee on the coffee table. Intended for communication across corporate offices, the small robots shaped like CRT monitors were a generous gift from Mirrano Corp, prototypes to be tested in the studio. They've become an integral part of the workflow here, with one in every room. Adelaide alone has two she uses as personal assistants.
At the sound of its name, the VeeTee on the table whirs to life. I really should have bothered to change the wake word while setting it up.
“Come in then.” I call languidly, resuming my motion to lift my laptop, paying little mind to the door opening.
“I’ll be quick.” Adelaide hums in tandem with her VeeTees, named Bruna and Gisela after that card game she likes and pretends she doesn't have a tattoo of.
I don't answer with more than a small sound of acknowledgement, tapping at the track pad until the screen of my laptop lights up. I had prepared to wince, but when the screen’s offense never arrived, it occurs to me that Adelaide had already turned the light on while I was distracted with retrieving my laptop in the first place.
Damn that woman for knowing me too well, though it may be a byproduct of how long she's known me. Adelaide has been the studio manager for as long as I can remember, but I’m told I was four when she started working here.
Considering the topics needed to fill the blank document, I look up to find an empty charging station in the corner by the window. How odd.
“Adelaide, where's Marina?”
“The boss called her out for something. She'll be back by noon.”
“What would father want with Marina?” I tried to mask the concern lacing my tone, to no avail.
“Beats me.”
“Did he already unplug the tracking?”
“Don't snoop on your father’s business.”
“That's not what I meant.”
Adelaide sighs audibly. “You're twenty years old, Ritz. Don't you think it's time you learned how to exist without her? Robots have shelf life, after all. Marina won't be around forever.”
I open my mouth to serve an anecdote about the Ship of Theseus, but choose otherwise. Adelaide wouldn't get it, and the archeology of past species is a forbidden topic regardless.
“Maybe ask the blue ones? You know they'd love to help you.” Adelaide offers.
“I know how to use a search engine on my own, Ladi.” I search her expression and find the nickname placates her enough to shrug and turn to leave, “If you say so.”
She makes a good point about the blue ones regardless. When the door clicks shut, I turn back to the coffee table. “VeeTee, make a note to check in on the Surveillance Department at some point today.”
VeeTee whirs for a moment before erupting in a mechanical chime. Satisfied in the confirmation(and thankful I disabled the voice), I turn back to my laptop, open a browser tab and click on the search bar.
Still sitting with my fingers hovering over the keyboard, it occurs to me that three minutes have passed. The cursor blinks at me just as confused, still awaiting instruction.
My mind is blank. Once Marina sends me the topics, I can write on my own, but I’ve never had to get started on my own before.
My hesitation becomes frustration. I’m the most competent person in this damn city! If I can't write a script on my own, every person within these walls must be braindead!
With an irritated huff, I shut the laptop and stand. Maybe I just need inspiration. I’ll take a walk, hear what the people are saying from their own mouths.
Grabbing a change of clothes, I emerge from the break room in a plain hoodie and pants, a hat, mask, and sunglasses should be enough to hide my identity.
“Adelaide, I’m going on a walk!” I call, caring only enough to listen for her absentminded ‘okay!’ as I slip out the back door. A search party would be rather annoying, after all.
The sidewalks are busy, and the streets are worse. I suddenly remember why I hate going on walks. Attempting to slip by all the people without being slammed into, I find myself carried by the current of bodies into a coffee shop.
The place is noticeably empty, soft jazz music playing on the speakers for empty tables. There's nobody behind the counter, and only a girl on the other side, presumably waiting to order.
“Hey mister invisible man~” The girl greets me in a tone that sounds almost teasing. “Must be hiding something horrible under that mask.”
She can't see my frown, but it permeates my tone. “Sure.” I answer dryly. “Where's the barista?”
“Dunno. It was empty when I got here.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Honestly, I’m just getting out of the crowd. I don't even have my wallet on me.”
The audacity of some people, at the very least I can see hers in her relaxed grin. The kind of person who looks for empty cafés to loiter in isn't the kind of person I typically associate with, but at the very least I too, can get out of the crowd for a while.
I pull out my phone, checking the time. Marina returns at noon, and I still have three hours until then. I find myself with the passing thought to hope father doesn't damage her. Surely that's normal.
I glance up to see the girl staring intently at the back of my phone.
“You like Road Beater?” She asks, referring to the character printed on my phone case.
“Hm? More or less. I’m not a super fan, but I like Riu a lot.”
“So you're a protag kind of guy? Bo-ring!” She laughs. “I like Yun-Li. She's cool.”
“She's got a lot of fans, I suppose.”
“Are you always this boring of a conversationalist?” The girl groans. “I feel bad for your girlfriend.”
“I don't have a girlfriend. I’m single, thanks.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” She smirks. “You wouldn't hide your face if you were enough of a looker to have one.”
“Looks aren't everything for getting into a relationship, you know.” My frown deepens. I don't know who this girl thinks she is, but she has a talent for getting under people’s skin.
“You're just saying that because you're ugly~”
“You can't know that if you haven't seen my face!”
“Then show me, dickhead!”
“Fine!” I rip off my mask and sunglasses, only realizing after I’ve done so what I’ve done. Thankfully, I’m facing away from the window, so it's only the girl that can see my face.
Of course, now I can see hers- the sunglasses made it difficult with my already limited depth perception. I don't think I’ve ever seen eyes that impossibly blue.
“Hey, I know you-” She begins, grinning.
“No you don't.” I cut her off as quickly as I can, covering my mouth with the now broken mask. “You've never seen me before.”
“Oh dude, you don't recognize me?” Her sentence gives me pause, and I look up. She raises a finger, motioning for me to wait, and pulls her hair out of her face and into the shape of a high ponytail.
“... Aren't you Velvet? I thought you were in prison.”
“I got out. A few months ago, in fact. I guess we gained more connections than I thought.”
I grimaced, recalling a painfully vivid image of watching this girl flounder her way through networking at a party. My gaze had followed her with morbid curiosity, watching a newcomer attempt things that come naturally to the rest of us was something akin to watching a car wreck- painful, but you really couldn't look away.
“How you gained those connections is beyond me.” I grumble. “That ‘networking’ of yours hurt to watch, by the way.”
Scoffing in offense, she retorts frustratingly quick. “What, and you never had a time where you didn't know what you were doing? I improved.”
“No, I didn't. The only connections you made were with people who pitied you. Everyone else at that party is a natural at networking because we were all born into it. You didn't even have the intuition to realize you two stuck out like a sore thumb.”
Velvet stares at me blankly for a moment before shrugging. “Eh, well since it's over now, there's no point in dwelling on it all.”
Her nonchalance is beginning to annoy me. I elect to ignore her and return to fixing my disguise. The silence is short lived, however, when I notice her hold something out.
“What's this for?” I ask cautiously.
“It's a safety pin, dumbass. You snapped your mask when you took it off. This should hold it together until you get home.”
Reluctantly, I take the pin and quietly grumble my thanks.
Time passes in a blur after that, chatting and bickering about any such thing. My alarm chimes when the clock hits noon. The barista still hasn't returned.
“I have to go back to the studio.” I tell her.
“Give me your number before you go.”
“What?” My tone comes off more incredulous than I intend.
“We didn't finish our debate about whether Road Beater’s cast could beat Immortal Altercation’s cast in a fight.” She answers, completely serious. “I still think I’m right, so I wanna be ready when I come up with a better argument.”
I hesitate for a moment. She doesn't seem to have any ulterior motive. Is she really this stupid?
Pulling up my contacts list, I decide that her idiocy is fascinating, and hand her my phone to put in her number.
After the exchange, I wave a goodbye and return to the studio. Marina is standing on her charging pad when I enter the break room, father seeming to have already left.
I still have scripts to write, and with half the day gone, I figure it's not the worst that the blue ones live here too.