Chapter 7: This Is a Village Not a Competition

Hana sat up at the sound of the commotion taking place next door. The tone of the ambient cacophony had shifted from what had been audible up to that point, and the sounds there were now muffling into Hana’s room were more concerning. After a moment Hana heard raised voices and decided to investigate.

Down the stairs she went, wrapping herself in her night shawl as she made her way to her door. Once outside, the noise from next door was more audible, and there was clearly a tone of anger and concern from multiple patrons within. Against her better judgement, Hana made her way to the bar’s entrance, set on examining the situation herself.

Inside was crowded, with over a dozen patrons huddled together and shouting towards the bar. Making her way forward allowed Hana to see what the commotion was about, and the sight was quite upsetting to her. A young man, younger than her, was standing over a single automaton that had sat itself at the bar. Hana recognized the automaton as one that had helped with Shinrin-Yoku and had attended her ceremony. The young man was mocking the automaton and was pouring drinks onto its head unit. Smirks and profanity came from his mouth as he poured.

“Oye, stop it Sol.”

“That’s enough lad, you’ve had your fun.”

Several older men were speaking loudly to the young man, Sol, but he was ignoring them. His wild, spiteful eyes were set on the metallic companion in front of him. Lunara appeared from the back room, returning something to her pocket as she made a straight line towards Sol. She reached for the drink in his hand with one swift motion, but he pulled away just in time.

“Why are you doing this, kid? Leave it alone.”

“The hell is a motherboarder doing in here with humans?! It can’t even drink but it asks for a beer?!” Sol laughed with a nearly hateful tone as he steadied the remaining drink in his hand before pouring it out onto the automaton. 

Without a second thought, Hana pushed forward and tried to get between them. The door opened behind her and someone else stepped into the space just as she reached Sol.

“Stop!” she pleaded.

Sol drunkenly grabbed her shoulder and turned her his direction. They met eyes and Hana stood her ground.

“Stop this. Now.”

Her tone was firmer, and her feet were planted. The automaton briefly looked at her when it recognized her voice. All of this merely annoyed Sol, who paused for a moment then reached out to put his hand on Hana’s shoulder in an effort to shove her out of the way. However, before his hand could reach her, another hand grabbed his from behind. Metallic fingers clamped onto Sol’s wrist and twisted very slightly, but enough for Sol to screech in pain and turn to face his snare. Hana turned as well and saw it was LeBlanche pulling Sol away from her and towards him. LeBlanche’s dark, narrow eyes were locked on his target and his face was dead save for a hint of malicious annoyance. With Sol turned away from Hana and the automaton and fully toward him, LeBlanche released his prey’s wrist.

Embarrassed and in pain, Sol swung a wild punch at LeBlanche’s face, which landed with a clank.

“Oww! Son of a-”

“It’s time for you to leave. This will be reported to the captain,” was all LeBlanche said.

Gone was the bluesy twang Hana had heard on the tram weeks ago. In its place was a tired, heavy growl.

“I’ll leave when I want to you-”

Before he’d even finished, he’d swung again. LeBlanche calmly raised his metal forearm and let the sloppy swing crash into that with another clank.

“OOWWWWW!” was all Sol could shout as he shook his hand in pain.

“You don’t want to fight someone with metal for hands, kid. It will only end badly for you.”

“You just don’t want to actually fight me because you know I’d hurt you, you busted up old spacer.”

“I hurt every day. Not a great threat.”

Sol slowly began to come to his senses and relaxed his posture. Lunara snatched the glance from his hand and immediately grabbed a towel. Hana joined her and they began to wipe off the wet automaton. It met Hana’s gaze briefly, but there was no emotion for Hana to comprehend behind its glowing optics.

“Good evening, Hana-sama. I am IRAM-88. I was-”

“Yes, you were so nice to me, and so helpful, and you did so well at the tea ceremony. I am honored to see you again.”

Hana’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, and she noticed IRAM-88’s blue shoulder lights flicker.

“I am honored you remember us, Hana-sama.”

Behind her, Sol stared at the ground and kicked his feet in drunken humiliation. LeBlanche clicked a button on his wrist and a small holographic recording screen appeared from a light inside his palm.

“Tell me what happened,” he said to Sol and those around them.

“I was in, having me first drink since being rockside. Decided to have another. Them seemed strong. Next thing I know, this mother- this automaton sits beside me and orders a drink. That not sat right with me, so I asks it why. It says it wants to experience a beer. I can’t comprehend that, and I don’t like its tone, so…”

“So, you begin to harass my patron, against the wishes of everyone in here!” called out Lunara, clearly upset.

Sol turned to her.

“Sorry.” he muttered.

Lunara seemed more annoyed.

“Apologize to IRAM-88. Not us.” Lunara demanded.

It seemed as though that was the last thing Sol wanted to do. After only a moment of hesitation, LeBlanche stepped towards Sol and met him with a glare.

“The automatons are semi-sentient beings here to help us. They feel no hate or prejudice. They arrive at jobs before us and leave afterwards. They are coded to never harm us. They are our comrades and will be with us through the entirety of our time here. If you think any of us level-headed people with tolerate your slurs or disdain towards them, you will soon find yourself verrrrry lonely for the next quarter century.”

“I just… I don’t understand them.”

“A lack of understanding is no justification for hate or violence. The history of Earth and the conflicts of The Fall should have made that abundantly clear.”

This comment struck Hana. Suddenly, LeBlanche had dozens more layers of complexity that she hadn’t even considered when they first met. She hadn’t even thought that the slight age difference between him and her would have meant he had seen the near collapse of humanity in the years of The Fall before the Age of Alliance had begun. The scars on his face and premature aging of his face might not have only been from his work.

The crowd of patrons had all parted so that only Sol and LeBlanche were standing near the bar. Hana finished wiping IRAM-88 and turned to Sol.

“IRAM-88 wanted to try a beer because it had recently tried tea at my tearoom next door, guided by me. If you have an issue with an automaton trying a beverage, it is my fault, so you have an issue with me.”

Sol lowered his head.

“Alright, I get it. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” replied IRAM-88.

Pressure released within the bar, and it seemed as though most of the patrons relaxed. Some left. Some returned to their conversations. Hana approached Sol and LeBlanche. Lunara joined them.

“I warned you that rockside oxygen levels made everyone lightweights, but you had to down both credits in one sitting…” said Lunara.

Sol nodded in understanding.

“I will file this tonight. As you did not harm any human crew, you will only be required to commit to personal growth exercises. I believe you need to spend more time with our automaton comrades and learn to respect and value them,” said LeBlanche.

Pained emotion flashed in Sol’s eyes, but he quickly blinked it away. Hana was the only one who noticed, and it moved her to speak.

“I think a few ceremonies of tranquility and meditation with me could be good, too.” she said.

“I don’t like tea.” Sol groaned.

“You haven’t had my tea.” smiled Hana.

“Fine…” he mumbled as he made his way to the door.

Once he was gone, the room’s ambience returned, and the conversation volume rose. Hana, Lunara, and LeBlanche watched Sol leave then all collectively exhaled.

“He called me old…” smirked LeBlanche.

Lunara rolled her eyes.

“Also called you busted up and a spacer.” she mocked as she returned to the bar.

“Well, those aren’t terribly far from the truth. But I’m not thaaat old.”

He met Hana’s eyes and she didn’t know to laugh, smile, agree, or ignore him. Her awkward pause must have registered more than she realized because LeBlanche began to grin as though he wanted to burst out laughing.

“Don’t worry, Miss Hana. Every outpost has one of them, and they always come around once they realize this is a village not a competition.”

He bowed to her.

“Miss Hana. 88. Lunara.”

“Good night, Shreve.” said the automaton.

Before he could exit, Hana blurted out her thoughts.

“I’d still love to serve you tea! If you ever wish.”

This stopped him from exiting.

“Oh, are you open for patrons?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve been open for several weeks now.”

He paused and clicked his wrist again. Instead of the recording screen, a map of the outpost appeared, with a list floating beside it.

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I looked for you in the registry, but you aren’t there, so I assumed you weren’t open yet for whatever reason. See?”

His metallic finger poked into the glowing list of registered outpost members and shops. Upon inspecting it, Hana realized Shinrin-Yoku was not there. Then it hit her that she had never registered with the outpost operations manager upon her space being completed. Her first ceremony with the automatons had felt like an official opening so she’d forgotten to commit the formal processing declaration.

“I’m an idiot.” she muttered.

“Nah, happens to all of us. Get that registered and I’ll come by after my next crawl. Truly, I will.”

His smile made his dark eyes squint. Hana didn’t realize she’d wound up standing very close to him while looking at the map projecting from his palm. Warmth pulsed into her cheeks as their eyes met.

He bowed once more and took his exit. Hana turned one more time to Lunara and IRAM-88, who were conversing calmly at the bar. WIthout looking up, Lunara wiggled her fingers in a goodbye to Hana, who made her way out of the bar and back towards her unit, intent on hurrying back to bed to process the night's events.