Life on Mars

"...so if you're being monitored by 'them', how did you get away with smoking and drinking at work?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Shigure. They sat outside the nearest job office, which was still half an hour away by egg. The waiting room was nice. It had a coffee machine. Shigure had been serving cup after cup for himself, drinking it without creamer or sugar. This fit him, kind of. "What I can tell you is, I wasn't getting monitored this much on Earth. I could at least take a piss without somebody watching."

Stella swung her legs, back and forth, back and forth. "I don't see how monitoring urination is productive to society."

"Then you have more common sense than the assholes running this thing. Come on, it's your turn."

Come to think of it, Shigure's mood had noticeably worsened after they'd arrived to the moon—specifically after his and Stella's (alleged) health checks. Something must've happened then. It wasn't until a jovial, gray-haired man waved at them from the office's door that something very strange dawned upon her: up until then, she hadn't seen a single elder.

"I'll wait here," said Shigure. "Good luck."

"But..." Stella trailed off. "...understood."

For some reason, Shigure grimaced. He ran a hand down his face. "...if you need any help, don't—"

"I do."

"...hesitate to... yeah, I figured."

She tugged at his suit jacket.

"Words, Stella, words."

"I'm cold." She was an expert liar now. Still, she didn't expect Shigure to actually take it off again, let alone to curl it around her shoulders. Stella pretended it was an anti-radiation shield. "Thank you," she said, and she meant it, and then she skipped to the old man's office.

Half an hour later, she emerged, not skipping. Shigure played games on his phone again. He didn't stop even though he'd clearly noticed her presence. "So? How did it go?"

"Not good."

Then he looked at her. "Huh?"

"My anti-radiation shield failed to work. I had interviews with Mr. Muramasa's balls and the people on the screen kept asking me about... experience. I have no experience as a waitress. So I told them that, and they said oh, no, that's too bad, we're looking for someone with EXPERIENCE. How am I supposed to get it if they don't let me get it because they want me to have it without getting it? I don't understand."

"Ah..."

"How does that work? It's nonsensical. What's happening? Why is everyone being so mean all of a sudden?"

"Well," said Shigure, "That's just how it works. If they can afford to be picky, they will be."

Stella sat next to him, holding his suit jacket close, like a blanket. 

"I'm surprised you didn't get anything. Did, uh, Mr. Murasaki help?"

"Yes. He was highly efficient. And persuasive. They almost listened to him twice, but then they said no anyway. He even asked if I was all right with something else. I said yes, but when we tried other jobs, they also wanted experience. Everything wants experience! Then how did those androids get jobs?"

"Because they have the qualifications, probably. That's the thing. You have none."

"How do I get them?" Stella asked.

"You got to school."

"How do I do that?"

"You enroll." Shigure's sniper eyes were back; the floor was his target this time. "One moment." He then headed to Mr. Ikasarum's office. He closed the door. They talked. Should Stella...? No. Eavesdropping wasn't polite.

If she was a liar, she might as well be impolite. Stella's ears perked as she activated spy mode.

"...can't you make one exception?" That was Shigure. "I sent you her file. She has no work experience because she spent almost a century fighting the longest war in history."

"I read it, yes," replied Mr. Murasaki. "Unfortunately, requirements on the Moon tend to be strict. If what she wants is to build experience, then Earth—"

"She got a house already! She can't just..."

Silence.

"...I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mr. Mururumi shuffled something on his office. Art supplies, probably. He'd been painting when Stella walked in. "I read your file as well, Mr. Fuyukawa. A case like this must be stressful. I'm somewhat concerned, if I must be honest. Why would they assign her to you, and not one of your seniors? Why would they authorize a trip like this? Not to mention, this level of... invasion of privacy. It's inhumane. For both of you."

"I appreciate your concern. Then what can we do? The program doesn't cover housing on Earth. Will she really have to go school if she wants to clean tables for a living?"

More silence.

Shigure sighed, exasperated. "I'll tell her."

"The other option is for her to work independently."

"The lady at the station's job office told her the same thing already. She won't listen. It's a lost cause."

"A century's worth of military service payment opens more opportunities than you'd think."

Humanity really must have more money than they knew what to do with if they were wasting it to that extent. What would she even do with a century's worth of salaries? Donate it? What if there was no one to donate it to? Maybe Shigure would want it. The android at the other job office had mentioned debt, so Stella could pay that off, too.

"...right. Thank you, Mr. Murasaki. I'll see what I can do."

"There's always the option of running a small business."

There it was, Shigure's humorless laugh. At this point, Stella would have to intervene. He was probably scaring Mr. Murasaki (Murasaki... Murasaki...) by now. "If she can't work as a waitress according to your laws, how does that make any sense? Who will help her with the logistics? What would her service even be? All she knows is how to kill."

Rude.

Also, more silence.

Also, another, "Sorry," from Shigure. "I'll just... talk with her. Sorry to bother you. I didn't mean to raise my voice."

Mr. Murasaki didn't say anything. Shigure looked exactly the way he sounded when he walked out of the office, so it was best not to let him know that Stella had been eavesdropping. "What happened?" She asked.

"We're fucking getting you a job, that's what."

"Oh."

"Fuck these people."

"...do you want your coat back?"

"No. Let's go. If he won't, someone else will help."

Nobody helped.

Stella didn't want to upset him more, but it soon became apparent that the other workers Shigure harassed were, in fact, quite helpful. They just couldn't bend the rules. They just did their job. Stella got it. She held no ill will towards them. The law was the law. Anarchy had a zero percent success rate for a reason.

By the end of the day, after their twentieth failed attempt, Stella seized Shigure's wrist before he called another cab. He didn't even look at her. "Don't be sad."

"I'm not..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry, Stella."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Everyone did their best."

Shigure said nothing.

"I don't mind going to waitress... school...?"

He groaned. "Don't even mention that."

"Or running a small business...?"

"What kind of business?"

Swinging their arms proved to be too unsubtle a stalling technique. "...you choose?"

"No."

"Hmph."

People walked by, to and from work. It must've been the end of 'daytime'. Slowly, the chandelier-like city had begun to dim. Mini-planes soared above them. Eggs and cars dashed beside them. Androids, humans, everything in between. Too many problems, even when there should be none.

Gently, Shigure broke free from her grasp. "They authorized one more day for me," he said. "It's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow."

"But... understood. Shigure?"

Was her cognition impaired, or did his face light up when she pronounced his name correctly? She'd been practicing all day. "Yes?"

"I'm. Can I. Could you lend me your jacket until tomorrow?"

"...seriously..." But he smiled. "Fine. Not like you would've given it back, anyway."

"Yay."

"But it's BORROWED. Got it?"

"Yay!" Stella hugged the coat to herself.

This was it, her anti-radiation shield. Anti-sadness shield. Anti-loneliness shield. It worked until it didn't. The chandelier turned into a candle, and time weighed upon her again.