Chapter 99: Second Home

The steady sound of several beeping alerts came to Milo's ears as he stepped out of the pod. None were urgent so he took some time to stretch, check the attachments to his prosthetics and get a small snack. The colorful red and yellow wax on his tasty collection of cheese made him smile as he forced himself to have a few crackers with fruit and nut pastes before he treated himself to a piece of cheddar. Some of the flavors were interesting and he did some quick research on the different berries used, and found out that the nuts were grown in the ground, not from a tree. Odd stuff.

But he also saw that it was possible to grow all of them with the correct hydroponics equipment. He filed away the option. Multiple small orders of foodstuffs might eventually be traced to him, where one large order of equipment for section E wouldn't, but it would also be a serious amount of work to set up the system for growing plants, and more work to keep it going.

He estimated that he would have to put in several hundred hours of work to start producing berries, and then weeks of waiting for the plants to grow. Maybe he just needed a better way to order things and bring down the risk of the shipments being traced back to him?

He mentally shelved the ideas as unworkable and got to work finding out the problems that the denizens of Section E were dealing with. Electrical was actually steady for once, and for a surprising reason. The solar and wind that Section H had added were over-producing. The excess energy was being shunted into the surrounding sections. This actually made sense to Milo. If they kept the adjacent systems running smooth, the automatic systems wouldn't try to steal from section H. They couldn't store energy past the capacity of their battery system, so using the excess to stabilize the energy distribution of nearby sections was logical. Very few 'solutions' he'd seen done in the habitat over the years had been this good. Usually, it was the opposite.

Food synthesizers were on the blink. There were complaints from all over that the food from some recipes, especially foodcubes, were showing up as charred pellets. It was wide spread, but only affecting 17% of homes. He suspected he knew what the problem was, but he needed to actually look at a food synthesizer and its current programming. He suspected a programming update was the problem, but his own wasn’t connected to the data-net and didn’t get the updates. That meant going to 'his other house'.

Two years prior, Milo had needed a way of attending the swap meets that were sometimes held in the large open areas of the hab. People brought nearly anything to try and trade for other goods. Old video games were popular as were broken or working computers, and video or music recordings of all types. Milo had some equipment he needed to fix, and needed circuits that were common in older equipment.

To get into the swap meet, he needed an ID card. ID cards showed where you lived. He had been tempted to print one out that said ‘Big water tank, mechanical level’, just to see if they even checked. But as amusing as that scenario might be, he rejected it. If they were asking for cards, they might also be checking addresses. The solution had been to get his own apartment and address, one where he supposedly lived with a parent. There were tons of empty spots in the Hab, he'd assumed no one would notice if he claimed one. He’d just be another person whose only option was the nearly free housing offered by a slightly benevolent government.

Getting into the system was child's play. He created records that his 'family' had lived there for two years after his father lost his job and they had been forced to move down to cheaper accommodations. He created names and backgrounds, spent time filling in all the data in every place it needed to be. Now if someone checked on 'Milo Babbage', he actually existed in the system. He picked an empty apartment at the end of an alley in a nearly abandoned part of section G. This particular spot had been selected because it was directly under a large service duct that he could easily move through.

Each alley had ten apartments on each side, and one slightly larger one at the end. Six alleys terminated in a common area for the neighborhood. In theory this was a meeting place for the community and a play area for children. In reality, most were just dirty, empty rooms.

His second home was just a looted shell when he first got there, unused for a decade. He fixed the locks, added much better security to the door, and moved in enough junk to make it look like the home of a father and son who rarely left the small room. Not that he expected to have any visitors.

His first attempt to go to a swap meet had yielded mixed results. Milo knew about people, but he avoided them. He hid in the ductwork, moved through the ceilings support structure of buildings, and never had contact with them. Just walking along a halfway and passing by people was difficult at first. Luckily, most people paid no attention to anyone else and kept their hands in their pockets and eyes on the floor. He would do the same.

He was dressed similar to a lot of the people he'd seen, in a shapeless set of coveralls and a large hooded jacket. Instead of his normal leg, he was using a simple prosthetic made of ugly pink plastic and metal forearm crutches.

He'd made it all the way to the end of the dead-end hallway where his 'home' was, before he was noticed. Two boys watched him coming towards the common area; one with apathy, and one with amusement. The second stepped in his way.

"What do we have here? A new guy? I didn't know we had people down that way. Pay the tax, runt. I'll take one of those fancy braces unless you can give me something better?"

Milo had no idea of the best way to handle the situation, so he thrust the end of a brace hard into his assailant’s crotch, dropping him to the ground, moaning in pain. He stepped back and spun towards the second boy, expecting an attack from the second boy, but he was still leaning against the wall, a slight smile on his face.

"Not bad, new guy. Brad will feel that one for some time. I'm Butch. You live near here? Or just lost heading to the Big Swap?"

Milo didn't see any aggression at all in Butch. He looked to be about fourteen with dark brown hair and dark olive skin. He was wearing a much-patched denim jacket and denim jeans. Milo took a couple of steps to a spot where he could keep an eye on both of them and talked. "Moved in a while back. Dad doesn't go out much, ever. Neither do I. But yeah, heading to the swap. I’ve got some old games to trade and I’m looking for some old systems for parts."

That got Butch's attention. "Really. What do you have? I'm really bored with the stuff my family has for the home screen, and my old game boy is broken. Maybe you can use it?"

Milo nodded and pulled out a dirty plastic bag with three old games. Butch showed some interest and yelled at his friend still getting over his quick introduction to Milo. "We're trading, Brad. Truce in effect. Find your nuts and go get our trade stuff. He has 'Squishy Humans 6, and Deathhunt 17."

Butch sat on the floor and brought out the broken game boy. Brad staggered off and returned with a sizeable backpack of old games and broken controllers.

Milo sat as well, and picked up the Gameboy, popping it open. He carefully pulled out components, cleaned away the grime that had accumulated on the contacts and buttons, and examined the other parts. The ribbon cable was torn, but he had a replacement in his bag. Fifteen minutes later he had swapped batteries, turned it on, and handed it to Butch.

"Holy shit. It works! What do I owe you?"

Milo pushed over the two games Butch wanted and picked out two from the trade bag Brad had brought. "Swap on the games. How about for the repair, you and Brad let me tag along with you to the swap-meet?"

Butch checked with Brad, and the other boy nodded sheepishly at him. "I'm good with that. I pushed; you pushed back. Shit happens."

Butch put out his hand to Milo. "Looks like we have a deal then. We have a few other guys coming with us. The Big Swap is neutral ground, but getting there can be rough. We'll look out for you, for today."

Milo was exhausted at the end of the day. Thousands of people were bartering items at the Big Swap. Butch and his gang moved through it like a school of minnows swimming with bigger fish. Most of them were fourteen to sixteen, although it was hard to tell ages with how poor some of them were eating. Milo's status went from 'tag-a-long' to much higher as soon as they heard he knew how to repair some of the old electronics. Milo found what he needed easily. There was a ton of stuff to look through and he didn't care if it was broken, as long as the older circuits he needed were still good.

In the afternoon, Milo sat in an out of the way corner, fixing several old game systems for the gang and drinking something sweet and fizzy they handed him. After learning what he needed, they paid him back with several more bits of machinery he was looking for.

The day was successful, but he was burning out. Too many people. When he went to leave, Butch went with him, followed by several others. Butch showed him where his own family lived. "You're ok. You did good work for the guys/ They appreciate that, even if they don’t act like it sometimes. If you're headed to the next swap, come pound on my door. Maybe I'll head out with you."

After the first swap-meet, he had showed up for four more, and even hung out a bit with them playing some old games. Twice they had gotten in fights on the way to the Big Swap, and Milo had earned a reputation as a sneaky fighter, tripping people and handing out bruises when needed. His small size always took opponents by surprise, and no one expected someone with a bad leg to move so quick. But he found that being around people was tiring, part of him labeled people as a threat, and was always watching every move they made. It was hard to turn that part off. It was better when it was only he and Butch sitting in the common area playing on ancient Gameboys. Just one person to be wary of, and Butch had a laid-back attitude about things that didn’t trigger his mental alarms.

His second home was as he'd left it. Piles of parts to household goods, games, and electronics were piled in the corners. A small workbench had a small light above it and some simple tools. A hammock with a blanket was in one corner. A large screen for video and gaming on the wall, food synthesizer, and tiny bathroom completed the necessities. A typical hermit dwelling in the habs, like many others. If anyone bothered to check, it was just Milo living here now, his father having left a couple of months after arriving at the hab, location unknown.

Milo created a bowl of foodcubes. It came out fine. His distrust of others included the food synthesizer. He had turned off automatic upgrades. Someone was always changing how the food tasted and he hated it. He turned updates on and loaded the latest. The next batch of chicken flavored cubes showed up looking like charcoal.

He took an old laptop from his backpack and used it to upload the fix he had programmed. The next batch came out fine. He set up an automated update of his own to go out in an hour. It would fix the over-cooking problem and added a new recipe option. He tossed the laptop in his backpack, swapped out his prosthetic leg, and grabbed his braces. Five minutes later he was banging on Butch's door. Luckily, he was home.

"Whoa! The Ghost that Walks! Haven't seen you in ages? What's up?" Butch and the other guys had nicknamed him Ghost because of how he showed up for swap-meets and then disappeared for months at a time.

Milo could smell the telltale odor of charred food. "Is your food machine borked all to hell? I have a fix for it."

Butch's mother had overheard and yelled out. "Bless you son. Come inside and see if you can fix this piece of crap. Butch? Get your friend a fizzy drink and bring him in."

Ten minutes later Butch's siblings were happily eating. Every face was smiling. New Recipe!

Food from the synthesizer didn't change much. Milo had added a recipe he had found to the list of available foods. 'Macaroni and Cheese' seemed to be a big hit. It was now his preferred food as well.

Butch and Milo slumped against a wall out in the hallway. Butch asked him, "You heard the big news yet?"

Milo hadn't. But Butch had figured out early on that Milo always appreciated any news of what was going on in the hab. "Big outfit moved into section H. They look legit. Maybe long-term. My pa and uncle are getting jobs with them. It's all online work playing 'Contract Workers'. They work four weeks straight, then three days off at the end of the month. Ma was upset until she saw the money. I'm going to start training for it in a couple of months. I'm too young now, but as soon as I hit 18, it looks like I might actually have a job and be able to get my own place." Besides Butch, his family consisted of his mother, father, three siblings and a cousin. Butch longed for a spot of his own, maybe with just a little brother or two with him.

Milo was immediately suspicious. "What kind of pods are they making them use? Some of those can really mess you up."

Butch nodded. "Yeah, heard about that. Explains some of the older folks who just wander around, glassy-eyed. But these are the new Mark VII's. They aren’t supposed to have the problems the old ones did. You even get fixed up a little if you use them long enough."

That actually did sound legit to Milo. "Wow. How many people are they hiring?"

Butch wasn't exactly sure about that part. "They have four full floors of them. I think about five thousand, and they say that it's just a start. But the jobs aren't the best part. The company is throwing a big party. There's a massive swap-meet scheduled and anyone 13-17 can go to a special event. Tons of old vintage games there, the big ones like in the old arcades. And you can try out the new online game in a Mark VII pod! It's all free. You should head out with us."

Now Milo was really intrigued. Plus, he loved the old arcade style games. If he could have ordered a dozen of them for his own hidey-hole, he would have. "Sounds awesome. Count me in."

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