...

Getting up and having breakfast was hectic. Dawn took a shower, made coffee, got dressed, looted the cupboards for cheese, jam, and factory bread, and had breakfast, all more or less at the same time. Luke got dressed, the third day in the same set of clothing, had a single jam sandwich, and drank two cups of coffee, strong and black, though with 'sugar.

As they left, Dawn locked the door to the studio but put the key under the mat in the hallway. "Not ideal, but nobody comes here." She told the front door to allow Luke in at any time until further notice.

In the street, she started to explain where he could do some shopping, but then she changed her mind. "Why don't you come with me. You can help, which means I'll be done more quickly, and then we can go and buy some stuff for you together."

At the station, she suggested buying a week pass for the local trains. Two and a half dollars, and he could get about.

Their ride was less than ten minutes. Then she steered them to a hidden entrance into a vast C'aing municipal building.

"Hi, Jake. This is Lucas Subotnik. He's an art major over at Zadan State. He's staying with me for a while. Would it be ok for him to help me out a couple of days? I mean, doing my batch, or maybe more, but then you'd have to pay."

"Sure, that's how we work here. You tell me how many people you would like to employ, and I'll go out and find work for them. Why don't you just hand me over a list of people I have to bring work to. Jeez. What is it with you people."

"Didn't say that, Jake. Just asking if it's ok if Luke here helps out, and I'm suggesting that we could do a bit more if you want us to, is all."

"Yeah yeah. Why don't you do the Abercrombie's over in Ventura Park? It's easier with the two of you. There's a little extra pay, though it ain't a whole lot. But, you'll be done in a couple of hours. Tomorrow I may have more, with the festival coming up in Fenwick Park. But I'm telling you, it's only temporary. Here, I'll make a note in my calendar. If he's around in two weeks, both of you are out. And also, if you fuck up, I've never seen this guy, and it's your ass. Are we clear?"

"Sure, Jake. Couldn't have put it better myself. And we do appreciate some extra work."

They went to a workshop and picked up a small cart with all sorts of cleaning materials. Dawn filled a container with water and another with green goo. She put on her coverall, and found a spare one for Luke.

When they went outside, she said: "Well, that went reasonably well. It's ceramics, so it's fairly easy to clean. It's just kids improving upon the esthetics. We wash it with this detergent, wait a bit, and rinse it off."

It was a twenty-minute stroll to Ventura Park, a tiny lawn with four palm trees, four benches, and a set of ceramic shapes. Someone had spray-painted numerous acronyms, icons, and vague political slurs all over the figures.

As Luke tested the paint with a fingernail, it came off easily. "That's odd. This paint comes off just like that. This is about the worst possible paint for graffiti."

"Oh no. They know us. We know them. It's symbiosis. They give us work, and we give them something to work on again."

They covered the statue in goo. To reach the top, Dawn climbed on the cart while Luke held it. Jake had been right. Doing it on your own would be awkward unless you brought a ladder.

Then they sat on one of the benches and waited, talked, for about an hour. Luke asked it was essential to wait that long. "Oh no. you can rinse it off immediately. But then we'd be done in an hour. And when Jake stops by, we'd be gone. He wouldn't like that. He doesn't mind if we goof off, but we shouldn't advertise it. He'd feel obliged to give us more work next time. And besides, every now and then, someone uses proper paint, and then it is a lot of work."

After they'd rinsed down the statue, they strolled back to bring back the cart. Jake gave Dawn three dollars and said: "I'll write down two on your account. What I said about two weeks still goes, but I imagine your friend needs to eat as well."

"Thanks, Jake. That's very kind of you."

When they were outside, Luke asked: "Don't you feel bad about taking their money for this. I mean. I'm not saying you shouldn't. I'm just wondering."

"No, no. It's not like that. It's more complicated. We used to have a grant for art students, which was a hundred dollars a month. You can live on that, pay for school and buy materials. I mean, most students would have a job because it isn't much, but then again, it was only a grant. Then they wanted to cut back costs by stopping the grant altogether. There were many protests, and a compromise was found in the end. The grant was cut in half, and it wouldn't just be given, but we have to do some study related community service. Ergo, cleaning art. This way, they have cut back costs, and they can claim a political victory because the grant is stopped completely. And now, nobody cares anymore. Supervisors tally up what we do and ensure everybody gets about fifty dollars. Jake is ok there. He gives everybody exactly sixty dollars a month, whatever we do. So we are nice to him and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. He's studied art, you know. Man, how low can you get."

They walked on, and Dawn took Luke to a second-hand clothing store, where they bought him a new wardrobe of sorts. Then to a second-hand book store, where she made him buy three books on Daimando. And finally to a department store where they purchased some shirts and shorts for him, and some cheese and bread for breakfast.

"And now, you can buy me lunch from your first paycheck."

While they waited for their food, Luke called the lawyer to find out if anything had happened. So far, everything went exactly as expected. First, Daimando prevented any and every communication with the lawyer, and the lawyer had appealed to the court to force First Daimando to hear it. In two days, a Judge would observe the lawyer contacting First Daimando, and then they would be forced to act. The lawyer's estimate was that they would then claim technical problems. The judge would then most likely summon them to communicate within a week. When Luke asked whether their behavior could be construed as an admission that they knew about Luke and were avoiding him, the lawyer said: "Not at all. They don't even know you are my client. They just know I'm a lawyer."

In the afternoon, Dawn did her shift serving drinks. Apparently, it wasn't in a bar she or her friends would visit, and she didn't invite Luke to come. Instead, he went to a sidewalk cafe and read the books he'd bought. He had a salad and a bowl of fish soup for dinner, and he went to the studio early because he was dead tired. He slept when Dawn came home.

...

In the next couple of days, they spent a lot of time together, and gradually Luke came to grips with the world and his situation. They met Richard once, but he hadn't yet found a job for Luke, nor had he new ideas concerning his court cases.

As Luke came out of his shock, he started to see more of his surroundings, including Dawn. She was uncommonly tall, perhaps only two inches shorter than him. She was slender, had long straight brown hair edging towards black and had grey-brown eyes. Her clothes were loose-fitting, hiding rather than accentuating her figure, and yet, she was very much aware of the impressions she made on men. It was in her movements and the most subtle aspects of her clothes.

"I know that look, and I suggest that we agree to some ground rules. You are welcome to stay here as long as is necessary, but I can tell you here and now that I don't want a relationship with you, and I certainly don't want to mess around. I don't want to have sex with you. I don't want you falling in love or skulk around me or anything. When your hormones get the better of you, we'll take that as it comes, but I'm telling you that if you make anything out of anything, you will have to go. I really, really don't want it. I mean, you're ok, but let's just leave it at that."

That night, as they were asleep in the tiny bed, Luke woke up with a hard-on pressed against Dawn's pajama's. Without really waking, she pulled down her pants and guided him inside her, all in one fluid motion. She took his hand, shoved it under her pajama top, and snuggled up, pressing against him.

He told himself he was still sleeping, but who was he kidding? He felt her breast in his hand and pressed deep inside her. Once. Twice. He shuddered. He thought about saying something, but he knew that anything he said would be stupid. Before he could decide whether he loved her, he had fallen asleep.

"I know that grin too. I don't want to see it. You don't own me, you didn't have me, you don't even know me. We had sex, of sorts, once, and when I see that grin again, it will stay at once, and you will be looking for a room. You will also be looking for a room if you start imagining that you love me. You don't. And next time, pull up the covers. I got cold."

...

Next time.

...

Gotta work on that grin.

...

Richard called. "I've got a proposition. It's a small theatre company, and they have a problem. Their bookkeeping is a mess, and the Bureau of Revenue has put a claim on them, which they think is outrageous, but they don't know. They have no idea where they stand. I suggested to them that you might be willing to look at it for free. My thinking is that right now, you are a nameless tourist. It's impossible to find you any job as an accountant. But if you do this, you're at least plausible. In addition, if you help them and they don't go under, they may be willing and able to offer you some work in the future, with pay. What do you think?"

"Well, I'm all for it, but I have no knowledge at all of Daimando tax law. So I doubt I can do much."

"Oh, not to worry. They have an AI accountant with some firm, which does all that. It's just that they can't work with the AI. They are totally elsewhere. I mean, it'd be funny if it weren't so serious. They can talk for an hour and not exchange one single bit of information."

"Ok. So how much time do you think this might take."

"Oh, I can tell you exactly. Three days. In three days, they appear in court, and they have to show something real by then. They've been letting it drag on, hoping that it would go away. As if the BR have faulty memory or something."

"So. Where and when?"

"I think you should talk to them first, rather than the accountant, but tonight they have a performance. So first thing tomorrow. For them, that would be around eleven. Be at this address. I won't be there. Just ask for Marty. She's at least coherent."

Luke didn't like to just leave Dawn with their work, but she said: "No, no. That's perfect. I'll do something small tomorrow morning, and then I can paint. I need the studio to myself every now and then, so this is perfect. I'll tell Jake you're sick. And don't worry about that. It'll be ok. And then I have the day to myself. It's best if you eat out and come home after ten. I really need to be alone for this. That's really perfect. And oh yeah. Don't talk to me when you get home. I need to unwind, so we'll just go to sleep. Ok?"

"Sure."

...

The job was simple. The AI just needed to be straightened out on a few things. It was clear why the actors and the AI couldn't communicate. The actors didn't know one thing about money, taxes or the law, and they kept talking about their good intentions, missed opportunities and how life was bad enough as it was without the BR harassing them. In the circumstances, the BR's claim was reasonable: lacking any information, they'd just assumed the worst.

It took Luke a couple of hours to understand the totality of the mess, in all its breadth and depth. Then it took the best part of that and the following two days to find what little hard material was there and to come up with plausible explanations of the rest. It was the AI's opinion that the BR didn't assume specific deliberate tax evasion but rather that they knew the bookkeeping was a mess and didn't want to end up with the short end of the stick.

The court case was over in fifty minutes. Luke was plugged in to help Marty, who acted as the company's representative. The AI judge asked several questions, which Marty relegated to Luke, and the judge offered an opinion immediately. Of the fifty-seven counts on the indictment, only two were awarded: improper bookkeeping without intent of malice, and wasting Bureau resources. The first resulted in a fine of twenty dollars, and the second in an admonition, this being their first offense. The judge made it clear that any subsequent infringements of this nature would not be dealt with so leniently, and he commended the BR for their willingness to accept this verdict, which apparently they had indicated.

...

Over the next few weeks, Luke and Dawn got on with their own life. Dawn found that she really needed her studio to herself two or three days a week, and Jake's period of grace had ended, so even though Luke still joined her to her work on occasion, it was just to chat.

Now Luke had 'established' himself as an accountant, Richard proved to be a true wizard in locating odd jobs. The pay was never much, but Luke greedily accepted every job. Mostly they consisted of helping people to prepare with tax returns and court cases. Only once, when a prison sentence was one of the likely outcomes, did he refuse. He felt that his inexperience was more of a risk than an advantage until Richard set him straight: Benjamin Duolo, the prospective client, was being bullied by EnerCo, one of Brodin's three energy providers, and as one of their ploys they had bribed away Benjamin's human lawyer. In Richard's opinion, Luke's contribution would at least make Benjamin's court case less predictable; obviously, EnerCo had a copy of Benjamin's AI lawyer to predict its every move.

In the end, Luke caved in and helped Benjamin. They avoided imprisonment and even got Benjamin some small restitution, but his market was closed down and came into the hands of Enerco. Benjamin was in tears and blamed everyone, including Luke, but Richard, who was there, set him straight and complimented Luke.

When Luke asked why Richard hadn't helped him himself, Richard said: "Oh, I'm too well known to them. If I participated, they would throw in their heavyweights, and Benjamin would have been worse off."

"How do they know you? You're not a lawyer, are you?"

"Oh no. I've just been on the other side of the table, so to speak. More or less like you. Just helping people out."

...

Luke continued to live in Dawn's apartment, and their friendship grew rich and pleasant. They went out to have drinks or dinner, together, or sometimes with Richard and others, and they had sex a couple of times. Dawn seemed to understand that sleeping with her in the tiny bed would lead to all sorts of tension for him, and for her, sex was easier than dealing with any stress. Somehow, she saw that he didn't feel denied, without it growing into anything.

One time Luke went to help an elderly couple in another borough. He stayed over so as not to waste time traveling. Dawn had the apartment to herself for three whole days and arranged to be off duty in the bar and with Jake. When Luke got back, late at night the third day, he found her sitting on the settee, looking at a painting on the wall immediately in front of her, with the most peculiar expression on her face. It took a while before she noticed him, and when she did, she looked at the painting again immediately and started crying.

"What is it, Dawn. Didn't it go, ok?"

She blubbered. "No, no, it went fabulous. This is exactly what I wanted." She smiled, and it was the finest thing Luke had ever seen.

She went to clean up her things. Luke used the opportunity to look at her painting. He usually wouldn't, and she didn't like to talk about them. This painting showed a bar full of people. The colors were bright and sharp. Most of the people were clearly entertained in lively conversation, and yet, at the same time, they appeared dead and absent. A spark was missing from their eyes or from their expression. Luke didn't see how she had done it, but it was most disconcerting. Suddenly he realized it was the bar she worked at.

"This is where you work, right?"

"Yeah. I'll quit there. I'll find something else." She busied herself with her brushes again, not wanting to talk about it. Luke took a shower, and when he returned, the painting was facing the wall, and Dawn was in bed. When he stepped in as well, he noticed she was naked. She embraced him and pulled him under her. Then she kissed him and moved gingerly on top of him. Afterward, she shuddered and collapsed. Then she took a quick cold shower and snuggled up to him in her pajamas. Just as he was falling asleep, she gave him a kiss.

The next few days were busy for both of them. Dawn had to make up for her work with Jake, and she had to find another job. And Richard had found yet another last-minute situation.

On the train, Luke got time to think. For the first time, he voiced to himself what he had felt the last few days. He didn't love Dawn. He liked her very much, but he didn't fully understand her -- there was a part that he just couldn't grasp. He thought of Natasha and worried at the similarity of the situation and even of his feelings. But Natasha was different. She'd always been there.

What he felt for Dawn was a deep and warm friendship. She'd stood by him when he was in need, as a true friend. She'd shared her studio and even her bed. He'd felt that he was supposed to love her, but he just didn't. He would do anything for her, but that wasn't love. Their intimacy was wonderful and certainly worked to avoid stress and express that friendship, but it was no more than that. He worried if he was using her, but that was nonsense. Well. In the beginning, he didn't have a choice, and now it was just there. He didn't feel it was bothersome for her, and indeed, he assumed the stress went two ways. And maybe he offered her something as well. A few times, he had felt that she liked showing him to her friends. Not showing off. Maybe just sharing. But he didn't fully understand it. No love, at least, not like that. That was certain.

Later, Dawn felt his change of heart, his conclusion, and became easier, less protective of herself. They continued to go out together, but just as often, they would go their separate ways. They continued to be intimate, but less often, less intense.

Finding another job had proved more difficult than Dawn had expected, but with the money Luke made, they could pay the rent, buy what they needed, go out, and save money towards getting Xolorrr out.

...

Luke spent more and more time with Richard and got to understand more and more of what Richard was doing and of Daimando.

Daimando was a techno-industrialist society where everything was about production and consumption, corporate strategies and activities, growth and profit. And in that society, many people wouldn't or couldn't cope or wouldn't play the game. Dawn was one of them. Luke understood that she would never be a productive, profit-making member of society. She painted to move ideas out of her head when the pressure of those ideas, images, feelings became too much. She didn't try to sell her paintings, and probably nobody would want to buy them. They were not at all what was current in Daimando, or at least in The C'aing, as far as Luke could tell. Luke imagined they might very well sell on Bethnell but never on Daimando. So she continuously held her head above water without ever getting ahead, in what amounted to Daimando's single socio-economic currency: profitability.

Whenever one of those people stumbled, by accident, by mistake, or just by chance when they crossed the path of one of the corporations, they were in dire straights immediately. They didn't have resources to do anything, they didn't have influential friends to help, and they didn't have sufficient knowledge or understanding of 'the real world" to cope.

And Richard did understand the real world. He didn't have much money, and he didn't have influential friends. Not for long, anyway, because he made them help those in need. He had a kind heart and an incredible good nose for how the less fortunate and less influential could still make their case. His nose was so good that the corporations knew him. So now he no longer involved himself directly but just introduced the right people at the right time. In this respect, he had told Luke, Luke was ideal. Nobody knew him. He didn't even have a credible personality on paper. He was just an accountant. And he was totally unpredictable. This he had admitted one night when he was slightly drunk. "In every case, you have worked on so far, you've added something that I've never seen and that nobody would have expected. Just little things, nothing big, no secret weapon. Just a new perspective on the material or a new item that others would have put aside as irrelevant. And the beauty is that you're not winning big. You're not noticeable. Once you are, they will target you, and we have to think of something else. But for now, you'll do."

And Luke liked to help. In a way, he was like these people. No. He was one of them. Ineffectual in his own case, but still able to help others. He knew there were many people like him with a relative in stasis having to scrape and borrow just to get their folks out of stasis and have them be treated. It was a common procedure. A scam, really. "No money for this operation at the moment? No problem. Behind with your monthly payment? That's ok. Do you prefer another doctor? No sweat." And the margins varied. The bigger the sucker, the bigger the margin. According to Daimando standards, Luke was one of the biggest. No Daimando would be suckered into those terms; even when forced by circumstances, more reasonable terms would be agreed upon.