Fuzzy, Sasha, Matt Oliver, Anita Oliver, Kenji and Marco - Saturday, August 11th 2074 - Evening - Ares Macrotechnology Arcology

"So my daughter won't stop talking about you...Fuzzy...Is it?" asked Mr. Oliver.

Fuzzy swallowed her food, nodded and smiled.

"Daaaad..." complained Sasha.

Fuzzy was in heaven. Tonight they were having porks. So juicy, slightly salty, slightly sweet with a heavy fat content. Everyone in the Oliver family cut the fat off theirs but Fuzzy kept on despite the fact that it was a little chewy.

Mr. Oliver was a human brick of a man with salt and pepper hair, a square jaw, brown skin, discerning brown eyes and a heavily muscled frame. One hand was cyberware, though Fuzzy almost missed this as it was skinned to look his normal color and the other was real. Only the tiniest of whirring sounds gave it away. He wore his police uniform along with a shiny badge. Those discerning eyes were trained on Fuzzy which made her feel nervous, but not nervous enough to kill her appetite for porks.

"We're just happy that Sasha finally found a friend," said her mother, with a fake smile that belied her disapproval.

Mrs. Oliver was willowy and human like Sasha. Not beautiful, but pretty with long, luxuriously styled dark hair and flawless brown skin. Her features were delicate and she had the exact same brown eyes as Sasha had. Fuzzy wondered which parent she got her ability to dress someone down from. Probably her dad, the cop, who was definitely not a gang leader as Sasha had explicitly told her. It turned out that Fuzzy had seen police cars in the barrens on super rare occasions when she went far enough west, but she'd always assumed that they'd just been another kind of gang.

"Moooom..." she groaned.

"She's my best friend," said Fuzzy, simply.

This elicited a number of reactions from the family. Sasha blushed, her mother's fake smile grew sharp and her father laughed and smiled. Fuzzy didn't really pay attention to this. Instead she wiped her mouth with a fine looking napkin made from some material that Fuzzy had never encountered before, she knew about napkins now. Normally Fuzzy just used her hand to wipe food off her mouth.

Her parents looked from their daughter to Fuzzy and didn't know exactly what to make of the young girl. Human, short, blonde hair, blue eyes, small of stature, but with muscle heavily compacted within that grame, pretty in an androgynous way without any makeup.

Normally her older, conservative parents would have judged her harshly from her looks to her lack of a SIN just two weeks ago and the security alert that was tripped. They approved of Fuzzy despite these perceived shortcomings because they were happy that their normally friendless daughter finally had a friend that she would not only bring home, but lasted more than a few weeks. Also the fact that Sasha had sought her father's approval first and after Sasha had won his approval, her mother's had begrudgingly followed.

They were also impressed by Sasha's boasting that Fuzzy was in the top 10% of her class in terms of innate magical talent, which managed to keep things civil Upper management of one of the largest corporations in the world made them nearly nobles in the eyes of their corporation after all and they approved of their daughter making friends with an awakened with so much potential.

"So I hear from Sasha that you're going deer hunting tomorrow," said Mr. Oliver.

"Yeah," said Fuzzy.

"What do you shoot?" asked Mr. Oliver, "Rifle? Shotgun?"

"Bow," said Fuzzy.

Mrs. Oliver smiled simperingly and placed a hand on her husband's cybernetic arm.

"Matt, Is this the right conversation for dinner?" she asked, "Killing animals. We're eating, remember?"

Mr. Oliver lightly jabbed his fork into the pork.

"Where do you think this food came from?" asked Mr. Oliver, his voice tinged with a reproach of a family patriarch, "Remember that I used to hunt to put food on this table?"

"Not the moronga story," groaned Sasha.

"What's moronga?" asked Fuzzy.

Mr. Oliver inclined his head at Fuzzy and smiled. Mrs. Oliver looked disapproving while Sasha rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for asking Fuzzy," he said, "it's hard to get real meat on the table, as you know. Quite expensive. But I have family that actually owns some land. Refuses to sell at any cost and they were smart to do so. Once a year, sometimes twice if I could get the time off, I hunted the pigs on my family's land. I'd kill them, bring them home and Anita and I would make moronga. Now when people think of a Mexican style sausage, they think chorizo."

Sasha silent mouthed "But we couldn't afford the spices" as her father said just that, continuing his story.

"We grew the mint and oregano at home," he said, "And we'd save the pig blood because moronga is a blood sausage."

"Oh, I know that," said Fuzzy, "I make blood sausage. I mean, why waste good blood? That's food."

Mr. Oliver pounded his fist into his hand and sharply pointed the knife still in his hand at Fuzzy like one might point a finger.

"Exactly," said Mr. Oliver, "I would've loved to make chorizo. My parents and grandparents made it. But it was simply beyond our means. I mean, I could've, but I would've had to sell meat just to get spices. Instead with the blood, I stretched that meat as far as it would go. I spent my vacation each year hunting. And on special nights, we'd eat meat when no one else could dream of affording it."

Mrs. Oliver's smile finally broke.

"I remember the house smelling awful for days," she said, "You brought it home, and I appreciate it, but I was the one who made it. Washing out pig intestines wasn't my idea of fun, Matt. I had to smell it. I smelled like it."

"I remember going to school smelling like pig shit," grumped Sasha.

"Language young lady," snapped Mrs. Oliver.

Mr. Oliver waved away these concerns.

"It's fine," said Mr. Oliver, "That's what hard work smells like sometimes. And you're right, you did the work and I appreciate that. We worked together. So did my parents and and my grandparents. They passed down those traditions because they're important. They kept that land in the family because it's important. Our traditions and ties to our family make us strong. Maintaining them got us to where we are today. So many of the people in charge of Ares don't have a single drop of toughness, honor or physical courage in them."

Mrs. Oliver stared daggers at him.

"You better not let them hear you say that," she said, "We're still new to them. Our position is not stable. I'm working on that and I don't need you jeopardizing what I'm trying to build."

Mr. Oliver lifted his chin.

"Soft hands," he said, firmly, "And if they're rough at all, it's only from swinging a golf club all day. So if my little girl is going on her first hunt, that's a good first step towards passing down our traditions. Those traditions make us strong and becoming too much like them jeopardizes our position. I understand your position, I really do. And I appreciate what you do. I know I didn't get where I am on my own. Our success belongs to our family. So I play nice in public too, Nita. But in private, in our house, at our table, we should all speak our minds."

He pulled his fork from his piece of meat and began to eat again, conversation settled, at least in his mind. Though he hadn't forgotten Fuzzy. After all, he was a cop and his cop brain was engaged. He wouldn't stop questioning her until he was satisfied.

"So Fuzzy," he said, "What do you hunt with that bow of yours?"

Fuzzy opened her mouth to say "anything", but she felt a kick from under the table. She didn't wince, but Sasha gave her a significant glance.

"Birds lately," said Fuzzy.

"Fuzzy got some new arrows," said Sasha, "For hunting birds."

Fuzzy smiled at the thought of her new, shiny arrows.

"Oh, those," said Fuzzy, "Yeah. I've been practicing hitting them mid-flight. Normally I'd catch them off guard and I can, but I want the practice."

"Small target," said Mr. Oliver.

Fuzzy made a tiny ring with her index finger, pressed up against her thumb.

"About this small, yeah," said Fuzzy, "Moving in a direction I can predict most of the time, but not all of the time."

"How far?"

"Ten to forty feet," said Fuzzy, "After that the arrow goes wild and drops. Makes it easier to find."

"Your magic makes it easy to get that kind of kill, hmm?"

Fuzzy shook her head.

"No, that's all me," she said, "I'm learning my first spell soon. I have an adept power that helps me with animals, but that helps with anticipating where the bird will be, not shooting it."

Sasha was paying close attention to the conversation. Not because she was interested, but in case she needed to cover for Fuzzy. Mrs. Oliver looked bored though and simply ate her food. Mr. Oliver however, remained fixed on Fuzzy.

"And in those barrens of yours?" he asked, "What did you hunt with your bow?"

"Dad!" hissed Sasha.

"That's not appropriate conversation for the dinner table, Matt," said Mrs. Oliver, scathingly.

Mr. Oliver held up a finger.

"I should know who Sasha is friends with," he said, "Remember Christina? How we gave her a pass despite our misgivings? We all know how that turned out."

"Terrible," sighed Mrs. Oliver.

Sasha put her hands over her head in embarrassment.

"Fucking kill me," groaned Sasha.

"Language, young lady," said Mrs. Oliver.

Fuzzy saw that Sasha was having a hard time of it and she decided to butt into the conversation.

"In the barrens," said Fuzzy, "I killed any animal I could to survive. I had people counting on me too. I still do. Things are too lean out there to turn down anything that can be eaten or used for its leather. And when I kill this deer, I plan on sending it home."

This drew everyone's attention back to her.

"I see," said Mr. Oliver, "And they'd eat the deer?"

Fuzzy shook her head.

"We'd probably keep the bones for soup," said Fuzzy, "The offal, fat and blood would make sausages."

"Not a lot of fat on a deer," said Mr. Oliver.

"Not much fat in the barrens at all," said Fuzzy, "So we'd use something else."

"So you'd make it work," said Mr. Oliver, who nodded along.

"You have to," said Fuzzy, "There's no other choice. You make it work. We don't eat any of the regular meat that people really like. That gets traded for staples, building supplies for repairs, gas mask cartridges and weapons. The barrens is lean, so we live lean."

This seemed to satisfy Mr. Oliver, at least for now. He forked his own cut of meat into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"When you're done with your hunt," said Mr. Oliver, "You and I should go together. If you're a good friend of my daughter, maybe some of this barrens toughness will rub off on her."

Sasha, who understood that the matter was settled, was now bored and she pushed her food across her plate.

"I think we should talk first, don't you, Matt?" asked Mrs. Oliver, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Oh, we will," said Mr. Oliver, "And I imagine Fuzzy and I will have plenty to talk about on our hunts too. I've never been to the barrens, but I know strength and toughness when I see it. I didn't get where I am today by turning down strength or toughness and especially not talent no matter where I find it. Rough edges can be smoothed down. Made palatable."

Sasha's father nodded to himself, approval given, at least for now. Sasha's mother saw Fuzzy's pixie cut hair, androgynous features and lack of makeup and assumed she was a lesbian. She said nothing and privately worried about not having grandchildren one day. Which was silly, because with the help of modern science, women had been having children without a man involved for decades.

Fuzzy thought the dinner went well. Any dinner with free food and porks was great.The conversation turned away from her and more towards Sasha, where Mr. Oliver criticized Sasha's spending habits. Though the criticism was light, all things considered. For the space of about three minutes, he reminded her pf how little he and his mother had until he'd really began climbing the corporate ladder and that she should appreciate what she had now. To Fuzzy, it seemed like a heavy abridged version of a longer conversation.

After that, Fuzzy was treated as a guest and despite her being a bush huntress from the Puyallup barrens and recently SiNless and the Oliver family being in the upper echelons of one of the larger corporations in the world, Fuzzy was not shown true rudeness. After all, if they felt like they needed to be rude, they had other people to be rude for them. There was an entire police force of trained professionals in her father's case not to mention internal corporate security.

It was late though and her father, Matt, was going to enjoy his single day off a week in the morning. So he bid them all good night, kissed Sasha on the cheek and Sasha’s mother, Anita, on her lips. Her mother made hot chocolate for the girls with marshmallows and made small talk which Fuzzy. With Sasha's help, the small talk had become passable at due to mealtime talk at school. Fuzzy was pleased that her diet had expanded so broadly from soy, a few withered vegetables and the worst cuts of meat from whatever animals she could find in the barrens. Now she had nearly infinite choices and every day brought new, exciting and most of all, tasty types of food.

And then her mother left as well. Fuzzy was shown to a bathroom where slipped into the night clothing Sasha bought for her scant hours before and went to Sasha's room.The clothes were simple, full body grey pajamas with an Ares logo on them, though Fuzzy thought they were extremely comfortable. Sasha changed into her own in her room while Fuzzy was changing. Her pajamas were of the same make, save that they were pink.

It was conspicuously clean for the room of a teenager, but Fuzzy had no idea that was abnormal or that robotic drones cleaned it for her. Her bed looked soft, but Fuzzy, who'd bunked with other children while growing up in the confines of Rat Man's home, got her very own bed from a pullout couch, which felt like a luxury.

There were some posters on the walls. Sasha explained they were favorite trideo shows of hers, and waved her hand at the trideo tank at the wall. It actually looked like a giant fish tank, sans fish, as the three-dimensional images were projected into the water.

"Three dimensional television," she said by way of explanation, "It accepts comm calls too. You have to bring your own media though since the school has no wireless and that means no comm calls either. You've never seen one?"

"Not a working one," said Fuzzy, "Just broken ones in the barrens. Oh, wait, are those trideo tanks in the corner of the ceilings in the lunch room?"

"Uh...Yeah," said Sasha, "But that's usually just...You know, the news or something. It's always boring."

Sasha briefly tried to explain more about trideo, but explanation failed about her shows so she simply turned it on. A man was in the tank and singing against a well-lit stage. Not a real man though. She knew that much. She nodded and Sasha turned it back off as Fuzzy didn’t seem particularly interested until she put on a nature documentary, which caught Fuzzy's attention and they watched that for a few minutes.

Otherwise, Sasha's room was full of other pictures both moving and still. A picture of her family was placed on her desk. There was a second commlink, a few personal knickknacks, a video game system and a mirror. Everything was so pretty and clean and none of it was broken. She smiled at Sasha and noticed that Sasha looked away from her quite suddenly and cleared her throat. Fuzzy wondered why she was staring.

"So I've been having a ton of fun" said Sasha, "I mean, family dinner aside. But...That thing that happened. With Christina. We have to talk about what happens to you, Kenji and Julie."

"Yeah..." sighed Fuzzy, "Are we talking about that now?"

"Yeah, we are," said Sasha, "She outed all of you as uh...Not one of the...Uh...Elite, I guess. Shit, that really sucks when you say it. Also some really fucked up shit on Julie. I guess she really pissed off Christina when they both got racist on each other. Which by the way, Christina absolutely got racist first. Not even a question."

"Was she your friend last year?" asked Fuzzy, "The one your parents mentioned?"

"Ugggggh," groaned Sasha, "I wish you hadn't asked. Yes, I think I already said that she was. Don't judge. I was desperate for anyone to talk to and I eventually decided to be lonely rather than put up with her bullshit."

"You didn't judge me," said Fuzzy, "So I won't judge you."

Sasha only stared at Fuzzy. In that way that Fuzzy was sure that meant Sasha was reading her aura.

"You really mean that, don't you?" asked Sasha.

Fuzzy nodded once and then lay back on the bed of the pull out couch. She looked up at Sasha as she rested on her elbows near the edge of her bed, who was still staring in mild shock and disbelief. Though Sasha looked away, embarrassed that she'd been staring.

"We should call Kenji," said Fuzzy, "He's good at that this stuff."

"Or I could just ask my dad to lend me some PR people," said Sasha.

After Fuzzy asked what that was, Sasha briefly explained what a public relations person did, which Fuzzy dismissed.

"I don't think that they'll be able to help much," said Fuzzy, "But Kenji said he's been preparing for this. He figured out early on that the secret would get out so he's been making friends."

"Speaking of, I really wish you'd just told me," said Sasha.

Fuzzy only shrugged.

"I had no idea how to tell you," said Fuzzy, "Or what to say. I've barely been out of the worst of the ash wastes in the barrens and suddenly I'm in new places with new people and I don't know anything about anything."

Sasha's lips made a thin line much like her mother had at dinner, though not nearly as disapproving and that disapproval quickly disappeared.

"Fine, fair," said Sasha, "But Fuzzy, I can't really state this enough, Kenji is a pervert who grabbed your ass the first day he met you. Maybe we can talk to someone less gropey."

"Actually he didn't touch my butt," she said, sheepishly.

Sasha raised an eyebrow.

"What?" asked Sasha.

Fuzzy fidgeted uncomfortably.

"When I got here I knew basically nothing, like I said," said Fuzzy, "Julian recruited me and the next day I was at the school. When I went to the bonfire I was resigned to getting beat down or burned."

"What?! Why?" exclaimed Sasha, bewildered.

"I didn't know what a school was. Barrens kid. No schooling. I...Can't even read," said Fuzzy, who blushed, "And that's been a real problem."

Sasha reached down and put a hand on Fuzzy's shoulder. After a time she felt good enough to continue.

"Almost of the people in groups that that I know are in gangs, and when you get initiated you get beat down or worse," explained Fuzzy, "I've seen it happen before. I never joined one because I was too small to get noticed and Rat Man could give me some protection, but I thought since I have magic now that I was going to get beat in. Kenji knew a little about me, explained things fast and gave me an out once I told him what I expected. He never touched me and if I had, I would have hit him. In fact he asked me to hurt him to make people believe it, so I guess I did anyway. Otherwise I might have outed just how clueless I was on the very first day. Maybe...I wouldn't have gotten to know you without him- Without that time."

Fuzzy looked away in shame, but Sasha just seemed to accept this.

"Maybe you're right," said Sasha, "Which sucks, but people are judgemental. Okay fine, let's call Kenji. But I think we should talk to someone else too. Do you have Kenji and Julie's number?"

"I can talk to Kenji," said Fuzzy, "I don't know Julie. Maybe Kenji has her number?"

Sasha rolled around on the top of the bed and onto her back, head lolling off the edge. She sucked on her teeth in thought and lightly kicked her feet.

"Yeah...No," said Sasha, "I'd like to get her number on my own and not through him. He gives me those transactional, entourage vibes that I ditched last year and I don't want to give him the wrong ideas. I don't want him to think that I need him."

"But we do," said Fuzzy.

"Yeah, but I just don't want that in my life," said Sasha.

"We could call Julian," said Fuzzy, "He'd know."

"Running to the teacher would make things worse."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, usually," said Sasha, "You just let me handle this part. I'll call Marco. He and Julie have been getting along lately."

"That troll?" asked Fuzzy.

"The school only has one," said Sasha, "And no orks before Julie. I've heard there hasn't been a dwarf in two or three years. Humans and elves only. Have I ever talked about how much that sucks?"

Fuzzy shrugged.

"Not yet," said Fuzzy.

"Well it sucks," said Sasha, "I don't talk to Marco much, but he's all right."

Sasha didn't have Marco's number, but she had people who she could call. Something that did something called "personal concierge service" and Sasha spoke to them briefly. It looked like it was going to take a few minutes to get his number as Marco wasn't part of Ares, but a different corporation called EVO.

"Gonna get a snack," said Fuzzy.

"Mkay, hurry up though,” said Sasha, distractedly.

Sasha’s eyes lit up from her smart contacts as Fuzzy left. Some minutes later, Fuzzy came back with a sandwich and some juice. It seemed like it had taken Sasha some minutes to get in contact with Marco, because she’d just started to speak to him when she got back.

"Yeah, it's Sasha. I was wondering if you had Kenji or Julie's comm number," said Sasha, who huffed out a breath of annoyance to what she heard, “Oh, come on. Don't be cagey. I'm with Fuzzy and want to help."

Fuzzy heard a few muffled words, the tones low as Sasha held her thin, silvery, rectangular shaped commlink against her ear instead of using earbuds.

"Your mom is weird," said Fuzzy, “She kept staring at me.”

"Shhh...No, she didn’t mean you, Marco,” continued Sasha, “Wait, you're with both of them? Great! Can we do a conference call?"

There was more muffled talk. Fuzzy still couldn’t hear Marco, but the cadence of his voice sounded hesitant. There was a pause, a little more speech and then a single word. Sasha flashed Fuzzy a thumb’s up.

"Okay, can you at get Kenji on the line?” asked Sasha, “No, I don't think audio only will do it."

Then she looked to Fuzzy in her night clothes and then remembered she was in hers as well.

"Uhhh...Wait, no," said Sasha, "Audio only on our end though. Uh…Camera is on the fritz."

Sasha sounded completely unconvincing and a questioning tone came through.

"Fine," sighed Sasha, "Fuzzy and I are having a sleepover and we're in our pajamas. I know you're cool, but I don't want Kenji perving on us."

Sasha put her hand up to the comm to muffle it peered over at Fuzzy, who ate her sandwich on the pullout couch.

"Right?" asked Sasha, "You um...Don't like him like that, right?"

Fuzzy ate her sandwich and shrugged.

"No," was all Fuzzy said.

The simple answer seemed to delight Sasha. Then she turned her body towards the trideo tank, laid the comm in the flat of her palm and made a flicking motion towards the trideo tank. The hand command turned on the trid tank

"Yeah, hey," said the voice of Kenji, "Sup."

He and Marco's 3d avatars were displayed on the monitor. Julie's was absent.

"This is Marco. Sorry about Julie. She's in the bathroom right now,” he said, sadly. “I decided to pick her up since she ah...Doesn't have anyone else. She is not having a good day. I can't get her to come out."

Kenji sighed audibly.

"Yeah, I expected that," said Kenji, "Anyway, strategy meeting?"

"Strategy meeting," agreed Marco.

"Strategy meeting," echoed Sasha.

"Strrrgy meephing," said Fuzzy, around a mouthful of sandwich.