Mercury - Part 3

Part 3 – Socialization

PLAYMATE SURVEY FOR SUBJECT 01MER, 24/12/2024

Please describe your feelings towards each one of your playmates.

Mercury: Why don't you personalize our surveys instead of just making photocopies? This field is stupid.

Venus: Bitch.

Mars: Mars is the prettiest boy I have ever met. He's so nice and when we're older, we'll be married, like Mrs. And Mr. Arthurs, except that we'll be happy. Tomorrow, I hope that he asks me to dance with him. He didn't today. He asked Venus. He'll keep me from getting euthanized! Brr, scary!

Jupiter: She's so quiet. I wonder what she's thinking all the time. Probably about equations and numbers and computers and stuff. Maybe violins. I wish she knew how to play violin! She's so good at music!

Saturn: Saturn is so good at games. I don't like playing against her, but I like watching her play against the others. She laughs and makes them regret challenging her. She's my best friend.

Uranus: He's very nice to me. Two days ago, he gave me his treat because I didn't get one that day. I think maybe he's very nice to everyone. It's scary to see someone so nice. I don't trust him.

Neptune: Neptune asked me to dance. What a silly boy! He knows how much Mars likes me and that he's going to marry me! Neptune said that he thinks I'm interesting. He said he's sad that I'm probably going to die. We didn't dance. We just talked.

(Analysis: Mercury continues to call the others by arbitrarily decided pronouns instead of by the recommended 'it', despite warnings to stop. What's unfortunate is that some of the others (Venus, Uranus, Saturn) are picking up the practice. Mercury appears obsessed with Mars; obsession is unrequited. Upcoming possibility of euthanasia seems to be weighing heavily on it. Interesting to note that the survey is an honest representation of how Mercury behaves. Perhaps it finds it easier to express itself in writing than speech? Further study necessary.)

***

We waited at the location that Olne had set out to meet with us. It was a kind of out of the way retail store that he owned under his trading company, but it was a perfect place to avoid arousing suspicion. Given that the guy was a politician, it was probably best if he wasn't seen downtown sipping tea with the likes of me or Samara, though we were both in disguise anyways. In the meantime, though, we sat in the disorganized back room of the store, while Sam put everything is in order.

"You think he's going to be here anytime soon?" I asked the fastidious cat, just making small talk. Sam didn't really seem all that interested in talking about business at the moment, but I assumed that all the papers I provided got read. Samara seemed pretty interested in the job, and was likely doing any research possible to help with it.

The feline's cold ice blue eyes looked at me for a couple of moments, very seriously, and then a wide, fangy grin appeared. "Errol Olne? Late? And you say you've done your research on the man. How many more minutes does he have left before he's late?"

I wasn't sure. I just knew that we were supposed to meet him between 17:00 and 17:30, right where we were, and I was getting impatient. I looked around the room lazily for a clock, and spotted one on the wall. "17:26. So four more minutes. That's not a lot've minutes, that's all I'm saying."

"Three minutes, then. Give him three minutes," said the snow leopard, pausing from the cleaning work to look up at the same clock. "Are you worried about the job at all?"

"Is it too dangerous for you? Are you scared, kid?" I said, laughing to myself, mostly. I was pretty sure that Samara wasn't, but the question just seemed odd to me. Why would I be worried about this job, more than any other?

"Stealing encryption information from some bigwig Martians? No, that sounds like it'll be a walk in the park. Easier yet, a walk through a park on a moving pedway while riding a motorized scooter," said Samara distractedly, still picking up papers and organizing them so that they aligned correctly with the walls (or whatever Sam was doing. I wasn't really sure. It just seemed like methodically moving stuff about so it looked nicer).

I laughed for a moment, but knew that the sentences carried a deeper meaning. "Well, I mean, it's dangerous. Really dangerous. But have you seen the offer that Olne has on the table? This is the stuff that makes careers, makes reputations. This is the stuff that makes legends. Well, underground legends, anyways." I smiled and looked up at the roof, leaning back in my chair. "If you have doubts, why were you so driven to come here? To take this job? At this point, I'm hoping you don't back out, leave me without a partner again."

Samara looked at me for a long moment. I could almost feel those eyes looking over me, as if measuring something. "What, did I say that I was having doubts?" With a headshake and a scoff, Sam managed to dismiss the idea as ridiculous. The office seemed to be in good shape now, I noticed, but I only noticed because the other recom sat down across from me. "You've done this for awhile, and you risk your life a lot. Just wanted to know... do you ever get worried?"

I considered the words for a few moments, and said, "No. I don't think I ever worry about it." What did I have to worry about, anyways? Never coming home to my empty apartment? Never having my lack of wife and kids come to my door and greet me? Really, I didn't have much to worry about. I only really did it for the thrills I got from completing jobs like this. Something dangerous, like what Olne had in mind. Something that got the adrenaline pumping. "I mean, I'd rather keep from dying. Keep careful, so I don't end up like Rusty-"

"Rusty? That's the name of the fellow who was in my garbage can. A real pity what happened to him, but you know, better safe than sorry when it comes to people rifling through your things, don't you say?" cut off a third voice. An ocelot recom in his early thirties, about the same age as me, stepped into the room, hands folded behind his back. He was short, noticeably short, and small of frame. At a mere five feet tall, he was about half a foot shorter than Samara, who was about a half a foot shorter yet than I was. But there was something menacing about him, just the way he stood, looking at me like he knew something that I didn't. Something that suggested anyone in earshot listen to what he has to say. Errol Olne, our client.