My stomach knotted. It was clear which option her parents chose. "So you and Marlon are working off their debt."
"Sort of. I said it's complicated and I meant it. We're kids. We can't do a straight payout, or else that really would be slavery."
"Sorry, but I don't see any differences."
She rolled in her reclined seat to her side to face me. "That's what Marlon says. There are differences, though. First, we don't really have work. We are put through school, just like other kids. I have chores, sure, but no more than other kids in their own homes. Once a week it's my turn to sanitize the bathrooms. I have to take the incineration cube to the trash once a month. We need to keep our rooms clean and tidy. And if I do my work late or slack off, I have to help with HuTA maintenance. No more than any other kid. Hell, you probably had more chores than I do." It's true. I did. "The only difference is that I do these things for StarTech, not my parents. Which is fine by me. They aren't much for parents."
It made sense, I suppose. "Okay, so you aren't a slave. But how does that pay off the debt?"
"It doesn't, not in itself. But every year, a few thousand kids are signed over to the program. And every year, a few thousand reach their maturity. Of those, ninety five percent sign on for StarTech contracts. Think about it. Yes, they invest in us as kids. But then we're tailor made. Take me. I'm going to be an anthropologist. Every single class of mine has been centered around that profession. Everything, even the maths and sciences. If you're a huge company that needs certain specialists, which is better for you? The kid who learned a bit of anthropology here and there and then didn't major in it until university, or the kid who was literally surrounded by it twenty four seven for nearly all their lives?" She shook her head. "Marlon sees it as devious. I see it as brilliant. Besides, we had a much better life with StarTech than we ever would have back home with dear old Dad."
I turned my head then, because looking at her was beginning to hurt. It wasn't inspeaking. It couldn't be inspeaking. But I did feel her pain. It was all over her face. I wanted to ask about her father, about the bitter look in her eyes when she talked about him. I wanted to know what and why and how. And...I didn't. I looked instead at the stars above us. Moments, minutes ticked by. She wanted me to talk about it. I don't know why, or how I knew. It was an overwhelming feeling coming from her. She wanted me to ask, so she could say. She wanted this understood, wanted me to know these things about her. Maybe it's a kind of inspeaking. It was almost as clear.
But what could I say? What could I ask? What was safe, what wouldn't hurt? If I was Dad, what would I ask this new tribe member?
"Will you work for them when you're done school?"
"Yes. After graduation I plan on signing up for a ten year term. Four more of education, then six of employment."
"For pay?"
"Of course for pay. I told you, Jake. We're not slaves."
I shook my head. "I don't understand this money thing." I thought I did. I thought it was just like the trading on Laak'sa, or the barter on v-2445. "How is the debt paid if you get paid? Isn't that just the company spending more money?"
"And what's money? I'm paying with my experience, my expertise."
I had to smile. "Humble."
She laughed. "I can't help it if it's the truth. I'm very good at what I'm doing. Top in my classes."
I heard the pride, almost felt it. "And Marlon?"
She rolled over quickly and looked up at the sky. "Marlon's an idiot."
I gave a laugh. "So you got all the brains, eh?"
"No. Actually I didn't. He's brilliant, technically. A genius in fact. His IQ is disgusting it's so big. He just behaves like an idiot."
"Because he feels like you're slaves."
"Yes."
"Maybe he's right?" I felt her turn to look at me. "If he's such a genius, like you say, maybe he's right about it. What kind of company buys kids?"
Her voice let me know she was on the edge of angry tears. "What kind of parents sell them?" She stared at me. I could feel the stare like a sharp force coming from her recliner. "Tell me that, Jake. What kind of parents write a kid off? Can you imagine what life was like with people who can do that? Not just for me and Marlon, but for all the kids that get written off. Sure. If my life with my folks was sunshine and roses, I'd probably look at things differently. But it wasn't. They sent us packing to StarTech and I finally got good meals. I was able to sleep, not just here and there, but all night straight without drunk and stoned strangers wandering into my room looking for a..." She stopped suddenly and sat up. I glanced over and her back was to me, her shoulders hitching. She was crying. I made her cry.
"Lynette..."
"No. Don't. It's not your fault." She made a little hiccup noise and turned around. She was crying, and I felt like a crumb. "I get that to someone outside it might seem like StarTech is the monster here. But I'm telling you, there was a need for them in our society. It's awful that's what it comes down to, but being awful doesn't change things. There have always been, and always will be, horrible excuses for human beings who should never have children, but do anyway. And there has always been and always will need to be a place where these kids can go. At least we live in an age where that doesn't mean slave labor in a governmental orphanage." I had no idea what that was, but I didn't think it was important enough to interrupt what she was saying with stupid questions.
"Marlon, he'd like to change the past. He's so smart that he actually thinks he can." She tapped her head. "He's got himself convinced that our memories lied, that Dad was actually just a poor unfortunate, down on his luck, and in a moment of weakness caved to the big bad monster corporation. Sometimes it happened just how you remember, even if that memory sucks. There's a reason we both wake up crying sometimes. There's a reason neither of us can find that damned planet in the night sky. You want to go home because your home is worth going back to. Mine? It's an intellectual study. It's fascinating only because I have the luxury of not having to be a part of it anymore."
She wasn't crying by the end. She was back to explaining. I sat up. I sat on the edge of my recliner, my knees almost touching hers. I wanted to reach out and...what? I didn't know what to do. Ashnahta would die before actually crying in front of a male. And Little Blob...he was just a pal. It wasn't really the same thing. So I sat there in my confusion and did nothing.
Lynette looked up at me and gave a wan smile. "You ever read any of the old sci-fi stories?" I shook my head. "Science fiction. It was very popular, especially in the early twentieth century. It was all fanciful ideas, about robots and space travel and aliens long before anyone actually had the technology to start finding the answers. It's funny to look back now and see where they were wrong, and where those dreamers were somehow right. StarTech teaches that those stories made space travel possible, that they ignited a flame and an interest in the general population to start to look at making it reality."
"Do you think so?"
"From an anthropological stand point? Absolutely. It's reverse story telling. They told the stories of the future, and then people took them and formed the future out of it. They're fun. You should look into them." She waved a hand. "My point is, Marlon's a huge fan of them. They tend to revolve around worst case scenarios. Aliens eating off faces, or nuclear holocaust, or big bad companies secretly controlling the world. They play on the deep fears of the unknown we all have."
Now she was back in teacher mode. It was almost automatic to start tuning her out. Maybe I would have if she hadn't just spilled her guts to me.
"Well," she said after a second. "Maybe not you. You got to live the sci-fi stories." I had to snort at that. I lived my life. There was no "fiction" about it. She tipped her head to the side, forgetting the lecture she just started. "You really met other species, didn't you?"