The automatic doors slid into the wall on either side of the doorframe, opened with a faint, almost inaudible hiss, letting the two men inside, then slid shut again. The first is a man wearing a bulky, boring, nondescript space suit. The second was a girl with curly black hair, eyes that shone with the dark light of the abyss beyond reality, and a childish smile on her pale lips. Around them is a vast and orderly network of conveyor belts, carrying products in various stages of completion between dozens of precisely calibrated manufacturing machines. The air buzzed and jingled, seeming to have its own rhythm. It’s a song about hard work and efficiency, a chorus that best pleases otherworldly entities of order.
“This is the conference room for Phase Three,” Joe pointed out. "Here I put the alloy plates, the high-density superconductors and the microservos on the upper layers together and assembled them into the thruster frame. I ended up with a lot of shavings and other by-products that I just funneled in there and back to me The smelter I showed you earlier to get most of the raw materials.”
Maggie nodded vigorously and followed his explanation. She's generally not a big fan of virtual simulations because they're so superficial. After all, could it really be called a faithful representation of reality if it didn't have the exact atomic structure of various substances? Absolutely not, at least not by the Observer's impossibly high standards. However, in this game called "Ast"
al E
gi
ee
s" but there are some satisfying elements in the game. It does not attempt to imitate the real world, but rather intentionally presents a simplified and idealized version. The machines never break down, fuel and materials are always delivered on time, and the products manufactured are never faulty or defective.
Rather than a simulation, it would be more accurate to say that this kind of virtual reality is an elaborate drama—a work of art in which the game is the stage and the game mechanics are the actors. What’s special about this “piece” is that Joe made it specifically for Maggie. He put in hundreds of hours over several weeks, trying to master the game's systems and production lines, despite their intricacies. He put in all the effort for no reason and no reward, just to see the girl he loved smile. It can be said that his investment in this aspect is worth every penny. The marvelous smile that had graced her lips had not faded since he had begun the grand journey, and Joe himself was grinning silly beneath the opaque visor of his helmet. His smile is invisible, but certainly audible.
"So, yeah," he finished his explanation. "After this, the thrusters are taken to the final assembly line where the shuttle is put together. What do you think?"
Maggie responded by throwing her arms around him and giving him a hard slap on the mask.
"I love it. You really did a great job."
"Ah. Ah," Joe smiled nervously, not sure how to take the compliment.
The girl omitted "for a mentally retarded person" from her otherwise honest assessment because she thought it would be an insult to all the effort and care lavished on him. He even goes to the trouble of creating something to build a spaceship, a subject in which Maggie shows a vested interest. The girl was a little skeptical at first because he insisted on keeping it secret until the painting was finished and even made the girl promise not to peek. Her curiosity had been building for so long, which only made her more pleased with the big deal, which itself was a rather unexpected twist. It made the whole thing a learning experience because it was the first time The Observer was looking forward to it.
"Well, I'm glad you like it. I'll send you a copy, so you can always come in and watch the assembly line in action when you want to relax, okay?"
"I'll work on that. Thank you again." She kissed him on the helmet again. “Can we really fly an airplane produced here?”
"Uh... I don't think so, no. This isn't a flight sim."
"Oh," a flash of disappointment flashed across her face.
"But they also have the same model in the Underwater Yoga Blast, and we can go for a spin there if you want," he said.
"No, that's okay. Let's stay here and enjoy the fruits of your labor."
"If you insist."
The couple then virtually embraced each other to the industrial chorus. Normally, such an interaction would be rather unsatisfying, but the guy Joe is dating is essentially a tech wizard. He didn't know how Maggie did it, or what she did, but he could clearly feel her warm yet cool touch on his skin, even though she was pressing against his virtual suit. Even those kisses were frighteningly close to true love. However, Joe didn't get hung up on the details and just enjoyed the moment that seemed to drag on for hours.
Acid rock mass* *
The impromptu hug inevitably ends when the couple's doorbell is transported into the digital world.
"Jeeves, can you find out who that is?" Joe asked loudly.
"Right away, sir."
The couple remained steadfast on the digital factory floor as their automated butler carried out his meet-and-greet protocol.
"Sir, we have a guest, Margaret Mulligan. Shall I let her in?"
"...Damn," Joe muttered. "I forgot that my mother was coming to see me today."
Maggie looked up at him, eyebrows raised in confusion.
"What?" He shrugged. "She told me about two weeks ago." A lot has happened since then, okay?"
"You misunderstood. I'm not questioning your forgetfulness. I'm just curious about what kind of person would give birth to you."
"Oh. That sounds a little mean."
"I did not do it on purpose."
"I know, it's just talk. Anyway, let's go greet her before she gets angry."
Joe and Maggie soon emerged from their shared virtual reality pod. There are several such rooms in the apartment, so they no longer need to share a room, but neither sees this as a reason to break up. The man stretched lazily and headed toward the front door, his cosmic love following closely behind. Jeeves lingered in the corridor, patiently awaiting an answer as to whether he should admit his guest.
"Do I look presentable, Jeeves?" asked Joe, ignoring everyone's waiting.
"Not at all, sir. You're in your pajamas, your hair is a mess, and you have some black smudges around your mouth."
"Um?"
The guy looked at himself in the mirror. The clothes and hair were one thing, but the stains on his face worried him a little. He had no idea what they were or how they came to be. It certainly wasn't when he was brushing his teeth this morning and he's been in the pod ever since. His confusion continued until he caught a glimpse of Maggie's triumphant reflection. More specifically, the black lipstick she wore for days at Joe's request.
Now I suddenly understood why those virtual kisses felt so real.
"A napkin, sir?" Jeeves.
"please."
The obscene evidence quickly disappeared without a trace. Joe can't tell if the lipstick is so easy to clean because it's made from high-quality, space-age fabrics or if it's incredibly expensive to develop. He didn't even think about it. The stain is gone, making him look good enough to welcome his mother. Yes, he was still in his pajamas and the bedside was in bad shape, but he didn't think that was a problem. Despite Jeeves' previous comments, such an appearance is a sign of success, not slovenliness. After all, few people have a real bed to sleep on.
Or at least that's the explanation Joe was going to give his mother if she asked why it was already noon and he and Maggie were still in their pajamas.
Opening the door, a relatively unremarkable middle-aged woman appeared. Like her son, she has short brown hair cut into a neat bob, making it seem like her next words will mean she's going to see her manager. However, her face said otherwise. She has a pair of gentle round eyes, deep smile lines around her lips, and a somewhat big nose hanging on a pleasant smile. She is short and thin, wearing a casual pink shirt and a Ret
oStyle™ jeans. All in all, there is no doubt that this is indeed Joe's biological mother. The two look so much alike that if it weren't for the age gap, they could easily be mistaken for siblings.
"Jo!" she smiled. "Nice to meet you, my boy!"
Margaret stepped forward, hugged her son tightly, pulled his face down a little, and patted his cheek gently.
"Hey, Mom," he wiped his face with his sleeve. "Sorry I didn't reply sooner, I was showing Maggie my VR device."
"Oh my God, look at you!" All grown up and sharing a pod with a girl! I'm honestly starting to worry that I'll never see that day. "
"Yeah, me too."
The Mulligans laughed softly, and then the mother began the theme of her visit.
"Then you must be Maggie."
"Uh, Mom, please don't call her that," Joe interjected.
"What? Why not? That's her name, isn't it?"
"Well, no. It's like I gave her a name that would look weird if someone else used it."
"Oh, pish-posh! How old are you, five?"
"Very well," the girl interjected. "If she wants to call me that, then I allow her to call me that."
While she gets a little offended whenever someone who isn't Joe calls her "Maggie" instead of "Mags," she doesn't feel that way about his mother. Not only are the two closely related, but they are so similar that it almost feels natural. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the Observer's humanity has matured to the point where it understands how irrational it is to be upset about people misusing names. It's like getting angry at the sun rising every morning.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Margaret Mulligan." Maggie held out her hand.
"You too, dear," the woman accepted graciously. "But...then...what is that?"
She squinted her eyes hard and caught a glimpse of something moving in the girl's folded hair.
"This is just my pet, calm Azgod Kalal. Come out and say hello, okay?"
The boa constrictor crawled gently from the back of Maggie's neck to her shoulders. He then surprised his guests by waving at Margaret with the tip of his tail before returning to his favorite resting spot.
"My word!" the woman gasped. "You know, I'm not really a fan of snakes, but this is the most polite sly guy I've ever met." "
"I trained Azgod Kalal very thoroughly," the girl declared proudly.
"That's true. Now, if only you could put this lazy pillow away," the mother said, giving her son a hard look.
"Hey!" he protested.
"I'm working on it," Maggie said.
"Who are you?" both Mulligans exclaimed.
"Indeed. Progress is slow, but it is showing results."
She rolled up one of Joe's sleeves, revealing that his arm had grown quite a bit, mostly muscle. The man felt a little embarrassed because he had momentarily forgotten that he had been working hard on his body since his girlfriend was shot. As for Margaret, she said nothing, but her face showed that she was more moved than when she had just seen the snake beckoning to her. It was as if her twenty-year-old son had finally grown up before her eyes.
"Can we go in?" Joe suggested. "It's a little cold outside."
"Indeed. Jeeves?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Prepare tea for our guests as soon as possible."
"Come right away, ma'am."
Maggie and the Mulligans followed the hovering robot down the hallway and into the living room. Margaret was like a little girl at an amusement park, silently gawking and squealing at the simple yet stylish decor and furniture. Even though Joe sent her photos of the house, she thought he was joking when he said he had moved into his new girlfriend's luxury apartment. To say the least, it's a little overwhelming to find out that it's all true. Meanwhile, AJ hears the commotion and telepathically requests and receives Maggie's necessary permission to sneak out of the apartment without the guests noticing. This might not be the best way for her to undergo assault training, but she had a feeling she really didn't want to be here anymore.
"My word!" cried Margaret, sitting on the sofa. "This place is like a palace! Are you a princess or something?"
"Not at all," the girl denied.
"Then how can you afford to live in a place like this? I hope you're not the hacker I hear about on the news!"
Maggie's first reaction was to confirm that, technically, yes, she was a "hacker type of person." Thankfully, she realized right away that this could cause a big misunderstanding and avoided doing it.
"This residence has been granted to me by the British government to better facilitate my capabilities as ambassador."
"Oh! Of course, silly me. Joe did say something like that. You're a scientist too, right?"
"indeed."
"Oh my gosh, that's so noble. You know, Joe wanted to be a scientist when he was a kid."
"Muuum!"
"Really?" Maggie's curiosity was aroused.
"Oh, yes! He keeps saying he wants to invent a cookie beam."
"Is this a device that makes cookies, or is it a device that turns cookies into weapons?"
"Uh..." he shouted, unable to resist Maggie's inquiring gaze. "It should turn my homework into cookies."
The girl couldn't help laughing, because such an invention was useless, but it was a landmark and groundbreaking.
"See? My son has a mysterious way of thinking, that's true."
"We can agree on that."
They both mean well, although Joe isn't too happy that they keep talking about his IQ.
"It's a pity that he has no talent for science or anything like that." Margaret's tone became more serious. "It was not easy for me to see him rated as 'unemployable' when he graduated. However, his father was the saddest. It really broke his heart."
The mother gave her son a stern, almost reproachful look, and he frowned.
"Mom, let me say it one last time, more than 90% of children can't find a job now."
This is not to say that the general public is stupid, but that the requirements to find a full-time job are too high. Potential employees must compete not only among themselves, but also against computers and robots. Only the best get a chance at real work, and even then it's usually in the service industry.
"I know, honey, but no parent wants to hear someone tell them their child isn't special," the woman sighed.
"What kind of person is Joe's father?" Maggie changed the subject to a topic that interested her.
"Oh, he's the sweetest guy I've ever met, even though he doesn't look cute at all."
Margaret pulled hard on the thin chain around her neck and took out a small round pendant box from her blouse. She pressed a button on the side, causing it to project a high-resolution holographic portrait of her husband. He has a bright smile, clean-shaven hair, slightly dark skin, and shoulders so thick that one wonders if he even has a neck. He looked like the kind of guy who was more than capable of subduing a bear. Also, his name is obviously Barry, if the small signature in the corner of the photo is any indication.
"You see, he works in deep space mining," she revealed. "In some places, they can't rely on drones because of radio interference and things like that, so they have to send people out in power suits. It's a very dangerous job and very tiring. Give him a year He had something to do most of the time. He still tried to fulfill his duties as a father and even dreamed of starting a father-son business. Unfortunately, Joe was born with a small stature like me and was not suited to the harsh life of a deep space miner."
"Yeah, what a big tragedy." The son rolled his eyes. "I don't know how Dad did it, and I don't want to know."
"You have to respect your father, child! He brought you into this world!" Margaret scolded him.
"Why……"
"I'm confused," Maggie said, ignoring their interaction. "Does employment generally result in substantial financial gains that extend to immediate family members?" I ask because neither you nor Joe have above average financial resources. "
The question made the mother hang her head and her son cross his arms. It was obviously an uncomfortable subject, especially for Margaret, but Joe had few reservations about it.
"He has a gambling problem," he let slip. "Every pound he made was playing cards, craps, slot machines, and whatnot Queenie knew."
"It helps relieve his stress," Margaret defended him. "Besides, he doesn't have to send us anything. This is not a border colony where people have to worry about safety, food or shelter."
"No, Mom, I know. It's just that we only get to see him two weeks a year, and we don't see anything but a beautiful locket. You have to raise me alone. It's not right."
"I know, Joe," she sighed. "I also want him to spend more time with me, and I know he feels the same way."
"Then why doesn't he resign?"
Margaret looked at the girl as if she had just suggested that they assassinate the Queen.
"Don't be stupid!" Do you know how difficult it is to find a mining job? My mother raised her voice.
"Actually, Maggie has a point," Joe backed her up. "What's the point of working there in the first place if Dad loses all the money he makes trying to cope with the stress of the job? Why doesn't he come to live in Dave-156 like the two of us?"
"He... um..." Margaret's eyes were moist, as if she was looking for a way out. "He's really proud. And thorough. Work ethic and all that. He's not going to leave unless he gets fired or retires. That kind of thing."
"Margaret Mulligan," the girl said coldly. "We all know that's not true."
"How dare you call me a liar!" She was irritated.
"Mom. Maggie never makes mistakes. Tell me what happened," Joe demanded to know.
The woman was clearly not used to dealing with her son, who had grown stronger and more confident in recent months. While she was proud that he finally found some balls, she was less excited about the pressure. Maggie's unblinking eyes, spinning like an abyss, certainly made it harder to continue his trick, now that it was being unraveled.
"...Okay, okay. You'll find out sooner or later," the woman relented. "Barry didn't volunteer for deep space mining. No more... He was planning to quit smoking when you were born, and he's been looking forward to quitting since I was pregnant. But, a big accident happened and a lot of people There were injuries, millions of pounds lost, people pointing fingers...your dad was hurt the most."
"What do you mean?"
"He was found guilty, Joe. Fifteen counts of gross negligence. The reason he didn't send any money home was because he was sentenced to thirty years of hard labor."
"I...I don't understand..." The color on his son's face disappeared. "What about his two weeks of vacation a year?"
"Those who perform well will enjoy the privilege of home visiting"
"What about gambling?"
"He... insisted that we tell you. I don't want you to grow up thinking he's a criminal."
"So I grew up thinking he was a deadbeat?!" he raised his voice. "What good is that?!"
"At least you're not worried about him!" she replied sharply. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I spent worrying about what the other inmates were going to do to him? And those corporate bastards! They treated him like this, it was slavery!"
"You never told me, how did I know this!" Now I hate you even more because you still hide it from me!"
Margaret stared at him suspiciously, tears welling up in her eyes and a hand covering her open mouth. Seeing her like that made Joe instantly regret having said what he had done, but words spoken out loud could not be taken back.
"Look, that's not what I meant." "I was just looking forward to having tea and riding bikes and having a good chat, but my dad has been a criminal my whole life. This is... too much."
His apology didn't help. His mother was already sobbing quietly into her napkin. Joe sat next to her and comforted her as best he could. Maggie, meanwhile, was still observing their interaction calmly and quietly as usual. Thankfully, the mother and son soon worked things out. Joe never held a grudge, and Margaret seemed strangely relieved and refreshed.
"I'm sorry, Joe. I'm really glad," she said after she calmed down. "When you were a little boy, we didn't know what else to say to you. When you grow up and understand..."
"It's okay, Mom. I understand," he reassured her. "I don't like it, but I understand it."
"Don't think too badly of your father. He was stuck in a bad position and we tried to make the best of it."
"I...I'll try."
Joe was conflicted. On the one hand, he's relieved that his father isn't some gambling workaholic who thinks self-esteem is more important than family. However, finding him responsible for some major accidents did not leave a positive impression on him either.
"My dear, I'm sorry to involve you in our private affairs," Margaret turned to Maggie.
"No trouble. Joe's business is as important to me as my own," she answered quietly.
"Oh! What a sensible girl! I don't know what my stupid son did to be with you, but please be patient with him."
The man would normally speak for himself at this point, but he was still processing the news.
"You don't have to worry about that," Maggie reassured her. "If anything, your son has been the most patient with me."
"That's very kind of you to say, darling."
"Say, Maggie?" Joe had an idea. "Can't you help my dad?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Margaret asked her son.
"Maggie has connections with some government officials. Maybe she can go through the back door and get his sentence reduced or something."
"I...can you?!" The mother ignited hope.
"Unfortunately, I will certainly disappoint you. These matters are outside the scope of my contract with the Third British Empire."
"Ah. Yes, of course..."
"Even if that was not the case," the girl added, "my understanding is that the man was serving time for the crime for which he was convicted. It would be against my principles to intervene in this way."
"But is he really responsible?" Joe looked at his mother. "Aren't the companies just using him as a scapegoat to save themselves legal trouble?"
"I... hope so. Both the court and your father believe that this incident was mainly his fault. I don't remember all the details, but he took many detours that he should not have taken, which brought him bad consequences .”
The married couple has come to terms with the reality that Barry is not just a scapegoat, he does deserve the sentence he deserves. Of course, he never meant for anyone to get hurt by his "shortcuts," but intent doesn't excuse negligence.
"Well, anyway, I think I'd better leave and come back another time," Margaret stood up from her seat. "Again, I'm sorry for coming with so much baggage for the first time and I wish I could still come."
"Of course, Mom," Joe reassured her.
"Always welcome," Maggie smiled. "Please inform me as well so that I can be better prepared next time."
"What, you mean Joe didn't tell you I was coming?"
"He forgot about your visit until you came to our door."
Margaret sighed knowingly.
"When you both answered the door in your pajamas, I thought something was wrong. I just thought it was a novel fashion statement, but I should have known Joe was behind it. It's unbelievable that his forgetfulness stems from Where did it come from, because it certainly didn't come from me or Barry."
"Oh, come on. What's the big deal? It's not like you've never zoned out in an informal meeting."
"I'm sorry? I'm your mom. I like to think I'm important enough to remember! And I'm not the one who missed class for a week because she forgot summer vacation was over."
"Just once! What's wrong with wearing pajamas?!"
"They are pajamas for sleeping in, not for entertaining guests," she said firmly. "Oh, but let's not make things any worse. It was really nice to see you in person, my boy, and I'm glad we finally had that conversation."
"Yeah, me too."
Parents and children hugged again, a little tighter than before.
"Nice to meet you, Maggie. If anything happens, please don't hesitate to contact me."
"Come on, mom..."
"Now, now. I may not be some big-brained ambassador with my own palace, but I've been here long enough to have some understanding of how the world works."
"If I need your wisdom, I will definitely ask you for it," the girl accepted politely.
"Please do. Cheers."
With that, Joe and Maggie waved Margaret away, and Jeeves escorted her to the front door.
"Oh, and one last thing," she said, and disappeared. "I'm pretty sure my old wedding dress will suit you just fine, so don't hesitate to lend it to me when the time comes."
Before Joe could get a word in, she was gone. Then again, that's not to say he hadn't considered marriage, at least briefly. It's too early to tell, but it's definitely something he should eventually get around to. Speaking of which, here’s another thing in procrastination’s arsenal. One thing is that the events of the day have moved to the front of the queue.
"Maggie, I want to ask you a favor."
"Say it and I'll do my best to get it done."
"Wow!" He raised his hands. "Let's lay low. I just need some help getting over my fear of spaceflight, preferably something without any brainwaves. Do you think you can do that?"
"I'm happy to, but why did you suddenly change your mind?"
On the couple's trip back from Lancaster, he insisted never to leave Butte again.
po
d-4. Maggie wasn't complaining about this sudden burst of courage and determination, but she was curious where it came from.
"Well... I think Dad owes me a lot of answers. Since he can't come to see me, I'll go see him."
Maggie's smile and eyes widened with surprise. She'd heard that family connections were powerful motivators, but this was the first time she'd seen it firsthand. Almost immediately she regained her usual controlled demeanor and sat back down on the sofa.
"I understand. So, put your head on my lap and we'll get started right away."
"Well...I didn't ask for anything particularly brainy, did I?"
"Of course you did."
"Then why should I rest my head on your lap?"
"Because I owe you 36 minutes of pampering for that wonderful gift you showed me earlier."
"Okay...but what does that have to do with my phobia?"
"This is a debt that must be resolved before any additional benefits can be given."
"You know, you can just ask me if you want another hug."
"...I want to hug you a few more times."
Joe couldn't help shaking his head, and then placed it on Maggie's lap.
Being a busybody, this girl is a self-proclaimed seeker of truth and surprisingly has a tendency to hide her desires behind technical details.
