TravelingDreamer
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B6—Chapter 8: Sense? Never Heard of It
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 22:34:51 +0000 UTCWhile we lay sprawled across the couch, resting from the awful day, Al shifted and glanced over at Mahya. “What did you learn?”
Mahya sat up straighter, her braid slipping over her shoulder as she leaned forward. “Quite a lot of interesting things,” she said. “First, this isn't an asteroid—it’s a moon. The habitat’s inside it. And it doesn’t end there. This moon orbits a planet called Marduk. It has seven moons plus an asteroid belt around it. Out of those, five moons have habitats like this one.”
Al raised an eyebrow. Mahya caught the look and explained.
“It’s a mix between a penal colony and population control. If someone stays unemployed for more than half a year, they get shipped here, ‘to be of assistance to the true citizens of Marduk’—and by that, they mean the corporations and the people who work for them.”
“What type of work do they do here?” I asked.
“Astro-mining.” She took out a pen and a scrap of paper. “By the way, you’ll need to change your name in the Guidance and recreate your ID.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“People here don’t have real names. Or, more precisely, they have real names and use them in casual introductions but not on IDs. IDs have only a string of letters and numbers. Like we saw on the Gate.”
She wrote down a line of symbols. “Right now, our IDs show our names in the Personal Information. We need to fix that.” She slid the page across the table. “This is the alphabet. An ID should be five letters and seven numbers, all mixed together.”
Al leaned over to peer at the paper, his brow furrowed. “Why should we modify that? John will investigate the marker, and then we will leave.”
Mahya gave him a long look, her pen still hovering over the page. “Yeah, but the robots run random ID checks. I don’t want anyone catching John—or any of us—storing bots. That’d be the dumbest way to get caught.”
Grumbling under his breath, Al leaned back into the couch. Meanwhile, I changed my name in the system to δ123թՋ456ՖԶ7, using the first five symbols she’d written down, and re-conjured my ID.
“What did you choose?” she asked, leaning over slightly.
I had no idea how to use the screen, but figured she did. I extended my hand to her. She tapped at the screen, glanced at it, and wrinkled her nose. “Not very original.”
I shrugged. “Who cares.”
“What did you choose?” she asked Al.
He showed her his hand.
Mahya gave a nod. “Better.”
I still didn’t care.
“How do we use the screen?” I asked.
“Tap on it to activate it,” she said, settling back into the couch. “The rest resembles an iPhone. You’ll figure it out.”
“What else did you discover?” Al asked.
“Gold’s not popular here—they’ve got plenty of it—but they go crazy over fresh food. Most of what they have is processed and dehydrated.” She beckoned with her fingers. “Give me your hands again.”
I held out my hand. She tapped on her screen a few times, then tapped on mine, and finally laid her screen on top of mine.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Gave you money. I sold meat to a fancy restaurant for a crazy amount.” As she spoke, she tapped a square icon on the screen, and it opened to show a line of unfamiliar symbols.
I stared at it, completely lost. “I don’t get it.”
“Right,” Mahya said. She minimized the window with two fingers and tapped on a different square on my screen. A new window popped up with text.
“Learn the language."
The window she opened was part of my ID, identifying me as a new immigrant sent to the moon due to lack of employment. Things made much more sense after I learned the language and minimized the window. The first icon she tapped had the symbol for money, and it turned out I had five hundred credits.
“Is this a lot?”
“It’s enough. An average meal costs ten credits. Do the math.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How did you find all of this in only three hours?”
Mahya leaned back, her arms crossed, a smug grin on her face. “I asked around for an information broker. From there, it was easy.”
I stared at the screen on my hand. Now that I could actually read it, I wanted to see what kind of stuff they had.
I tapped a square icon labeled Public Access. Nothing happened.
I tapped News. Still nothing.
I tapped Jobs. Same result.
“I think my iPhone is broken,” I said.
Mahya and Al both looked at me and smiled.
“What?” I asked.
They exchanged a look, still smiling, and Mahya said, “In this case, you’re absolutely right. It doesn’t make any sense.”
That just confused me more. I gave them a blank look and said, “Huh?” in the most eloquent manner possible.
Mahya laughed, and Al smiled.
“We know what your reaction would be,” Al said.
“I still don’t get it.”
“The screens everyone has around here are technological,” Mahya said. “Mana doesn’t work with tech, remember? The only functions our screens can run are the ones tied to our ID. Finances are part of that, since they’re linked to identifications. Residence access is also tied to the ID. Nothing else works, because it’s tech. On worlds where money or residence are not tied to an ID, even that doesn’t work.”
I threw my hands up. “This doesn’t make any sense!”
Both of them burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, disgruntled.
They shook their heads, still smiling widely.
“It’s one of the oldest arguments between Travelers,” Mahya said. "There are numerous theories about why it works, but no definitive answers. It just does. The skill One of the Crowd covers all forms of ID—even more advanced ones—but only IDs."
“And nobody tried to research it?” I asked.
“Many people have,” Al said. “There are numerous theories, each based on research conducted by a Traveler, but there are no conclusive answers. It is something I have come across many times in my Family’s archive. As Mahya said—it simply is.”
I hated it when things didn’t make sense. It drove me crazy. Now that the permanent connection point in my mind had been re-established, I nudged it. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Amusement came through.
“It’s not funny!”
A stronger amusement came through.
“Ugh! You’re worse than Mahya!”
This time, nothing came through.
Did I hurt its feelings?
Nah. If I had, it would've let me know.
Mahya nudged my foot with hers. “When do you want to check the marker?”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “We check the marker, then we’re out. The less time we spend here, the better.”
