Chapter 8: 8. Silver

I was still working, at my old job, but I had to admit I was taking liberties; I wasn’t scheduled on sprints any more, because I was on various ‘CEO projects’. I did do a few tickets, wrote documentation and unit tests, but for standalone functionality. I would have hated anyone else doing this; getting out of the bullshit and just doing occasional tasks. Really, I should have quit, but I didn’t like the idea of being even more dependent on Sabine. I mean, I was working for her company, I couldn’t really claim to be independent, but I needed to pretend.

Generally, I worked ‘remotely’ from the kitchen table in the penthouse; they only asked me to meetings when they couldn’t help it.

I was going through emails. Our medical insurance had changed to use MerHu’s new healthcare subsidiary, InnovHealth. I clicked on the details.

⁂

I slammed open the door to Sabine’s office.

“What the hell is this?” I shouted.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” said Sabine, into the phone. “We’ll pick up later.” She put the phone down, and looked at me. “What’s the matter, Pip?”

“The new fucking health policy, Sabine!” I said.

For a split second, she looked guilty. Then she opened a drawer and took out her vape pen. 

She walked out onto the balcony. “It’s not anti-trans,” she said. 

“Bullshit,” I said.

“No,” said Sabine. “There’s a blanket ban on any facial reconstructive surgery, and on genital modifications. It applies to both trans and cis people.”

“Oh, that’s a real forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges rule,” I said. “You know it hits trans people hardest.”

“Yeah, and that’s shit,” she said. “But, we want the basic, um, silver, package to be easy to implement across states, and, as you know, more states are making gender-affirming care illegal, so…” She took a long drag of her vape, and breathed out a cloud of steam.

“Some cis might be disappointed as well,” she continued. “Even if they have the surgery for different reasons.”

“That isn’t a point in support,” I said, my voice wavering.

“Like I say, you’re not numerous enough to tip the scales,” Sabine said. “This lets us offer the silver package at a very competitive price.”

“And you just approved this?” I said. “Even knowing a trans woman? Sleeping with a trans woman?”

“I’ve got to be objective,” she said, breathing out steam again. “And it wasn’t as if it applies to you.”

“What?”

“Well, I can buy you whatever surgeries you like,” said Sabine. “Or witchcraft, even more expensive, but better. I was going to talk about it at a more suitable time, but I can pay for facial feminization surgery and even SRS, if you’re sure you want to lose that lovely gock.”

“It’s not about me!” I shouted. “I’d have thought you were the one billionaire in the world who might have a fucking clue.”

“I do,” she said. “But the calculations—”

“What about morality?”

“I’ve got a duty to the investors to make money,” Sabine said.

I was too angry to reply. I stormed off, back to the kitchen.

⁂

“I am sorry.” Sabine’s voice was quiet.

I was crying; the kitchen table was littered with hankies.

“I do love you,” she said, pulling up a chair.

“I love you too,” I said. “But I don’t love what you are.”

“I know,” she said.

“So stop it,” I said.

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “Fix stuff, and the stuff you can’t fix, give to charity. Set up foundations and scholarships, and more charities. Give it away.”

“I can do more good—”

“But you can’t,” I said. “I made myself believe that, but it’s not true. You’re trapped by your wealth; it’s like some cancer, every good response is turned to evil. You’re not evil, but you’re part of an evil system. I think you know that.”

“Pip…”

“I’m sorry, Sabine,” I said. “Get rid of it. Let’s settle down, live as normal people. Try and… I don’t know, work for the common good. I love you, but…” I paused, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I did. “I love you, but I need you to stop being a billionaire.”

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“Is that an ultimatum?” she said, quietly.

“It’s a plea,” I said. “But also a red line.”

She looked at me. She was crying. 

⁂

“Look after her, Curse,” I said. Curse stood immobile by the bookcase.

“Yes, mistress,” the doll said.

“Why do you call me that?” I said, sniffling. “Sabine is your mistress, not me.”

“Your mark was on the contract, mistress,” said Curse, pointing at the parchment, now framed and on the wall.

“You mean my inky fingerprint?” I said. 

“Yes, mistress.”

“Well,” I said. “Shit. But I guess I mean it. Look after her. Don’t let her do risky stuff either.”

Curse nodded.

I glanced at the packs of playing cards. I could, theoretically, tell Curse that it was performing the draws unnecessarily. I could put the worn ace, still in my pocketbook, into one of the packs. I didn’t, of course.

“Goodbye.”

 ⁂

My apartment still had a lot of dust. I ought to do a good clean, but I could not be bothered.

I scrolled tech jobs. There were a few, although they all filled me with corporate dread; either large company bullshit or start-up stress. Fortunately, MerHu had been unexpectedly good about me quitting; probably Sabine’s doing, I thought. Still, I would have to get an actual job soon.

I sighed and changed tabs. Sabine had gotten back together with her actor boyfriend. She looked amazing. And there she was talking to the witch Veronika, at some sort of AOMP celebration.

“Don’t torture yourself, Pip,” said Veronika, scaring the shit out of me. 

“Fuck,” I said, half standing.

“She seemed cheery enough, but I can tell she wonders if she made the right decision,” Veronika said. “But she knows that she can’t really make any other choice. Money is like magic; past a certain point you can’t let it go. Not simply for the utility, but also because it has woven itself into you. Did you know that the bodies of old, dead witches do not decay like regular humans? Instead they are consumed by the scraps of spells uncast. I imagine something similar must happen for billionaires.”

“Um.”

“Do excuse the sudden appearance,” said Veronika. “But you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh, was that you? Sorry.”

“No trouble,” she said. “May I sit?”

I nodded vaguely. She sat at the table.

“Is she… is she okay?” I said. “Not doing anything risky, I mean?”

“Curse reports not,” said Veronika. “Sometimes a gun going off is enough to persuade you not to play with it, I guess. Except for a card draw every day, of course.”

“I didn’t even add the ace back,” I said. “I don’t know why I share pictures of guillotines on Twitter, when I wouldn’t even make a billionaire face the mildest risk.”

“Perhaps some people’s role in the revolution is just to get out of the way,” said Veronika. 

“How is that card thing even satisfying Curse’s, um, drive? Geas?”

“Normally, I would say that dolls don’t really have a subconscious,” said Veronika, “but strange and ancient combat-dolls might be an exception. Whatever geas was on Curse is long gone now, but it will be awhile before it works that out.”

“So tell it,” I said.

“And put the idea into its head that some of the people it killed, it didn’t need to?” said Veronika. “That would be cruel, and I don’t hold with that kind of thing. We will ‘discover’ in a couple of years that its geas has apparently been fading. That will do.”

I shook my head. “If you say so.”

“I do,” said Veronika, firmly. “Now, Pip, there is an opening for a Computer Tech at AOMP. Witches, as a class, are not good with computers. Things get rather interesting. But it would at least spare you from business speak. Interested?”

“Why me?”

“Well, Pip,” Veronika said. “You have experience dealing with monsters.”

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