Conor

“Do you think Archie is really dead?” Conor asked. Frank leaned against a desk and squeezed a stress ball shaped like a raccoon.

Frank shrugged. “Cat said that Dolores said that the police said they didn't have a body. Isn't that what habeas corpus means?” He tossed the raccoon ball into the air and caught it.

“I don't think it quite means that,” said Conor. “It's just odd. Sure, Archie does some wild things.”

Frank laughed. “Yeah, taking his signing bonus to Italy to find himself a wife…”

“But then things always end up working out for him in the end,” Conor continued.

“Yeah, like taking his signing bonus to Italy to find himself a wife… and to come home with one totally devoted to him. How did he swing that?” He set the raccoon ball down. “Maybe it was just the number of zeroes on that signing bonus.” He shrugged. “Most of the zeroes on mine were after the decimal.”

Conor looked up from his seat at his desk. “But Gloria didn't seem to mind.”

Frank looked away. “Yeah. You've got a point. But, wow, that Dolores. She's something else.”

“Do you mean that in a concerned way or a creepy way?” Conor said.

Frank grinned. “Concerned. I like my women with a little more in the brains department. I’d be spending all my time at work if I had to come home to a walking, talking lifestyle brand.” He picked up a stylus pen and started clicking it. “I'll bet we'll find out that he had some super secret urgent thing to do for Solstice, and not even Dolores could know, because then she'd tell the entire world on her video channel.” He laughed. “Did you ever watch it?”

“No,” said Conor.

“It's more mind-numbing than kids shows.” He clicked the stylus pen some more. “One thing I don't look forward to with being a parent.”

“When you're sleep deprived, even those mind-numbing kid shows are a break from the rigors of early parenthood,” Conor said. “Though the theme songs find a way to get stuck deep in your brain.”

Frank looked out the window at the simulated view of the outside. “What if he really is dead, though,” he said.

Conor thought about this. “I'd hope it was an accident. I don't like the idea of my best friends all dying under mysterious circumstances. I don't want to be next.”

Frank looked over at him. “I'm your best friend?” he said.

Conor shrugged. “Well, from college, at least.”

“I thought you just tolerated me because I was your brother-in-law. But best friend?”

“Don't make a big deal about it,” said Conor. “I mean, we started a business together.”

Frank resumed clicking the stylus. “If he is dead,” he said. “Do you think I'll be expected to go to his funeral?”

“I don't see why not,” Conor said. “He came to yours.”

Jeremy walked in. “Good--” he said, then he looked out the window to determine what time of day it was, then he realized that the window lied, so he looked at his pocket watch. “Afternoon,” he finished. “What are we up to today?”

“We're waiting for the new Taskrotta prototype to finish printing,” Conor said.

“And we were talking about Archie,” Frank added.

Jeremy nodded. “I heard he's missing. Any updates?”

“None that we've heard,” Frank said.

He nodded again. He pulled a bag of borrachitos from his pocket and began to pop a few into his mouth. He chewed them thoughtfully for a while before swallowing. “Well,” he said, “I have some good news. You have some new employees.”

Conor leaned forward and Frank stood up. “Really?” he said.

“I don't have a reason to lie about that sort of thing,” Jeremy said, eating another borrachito. “We have some tech monks from another acquisition. The org chart was too weird, so Akira reconfigured it and put some under you. They're a bit odd, and one is particularly quiet, but other than that, they're pretty competent individuals. You'll be forgetting Sid and Cammy in no time.”

“When do we meet them?” Conor asked.

Jeremy looked at his pocket watch. “In about sixty seconds,” he said. He offered the borrachitos to his brother and brother-in-law.

“No thanks,” Conor said. “I'm at work.”

Frank had already taken a handful and popped them in his mouth. “Why would that make a difference?” he said. Then he bit into them. “Oh,” he said, as the taste of tequila rushed into his mouth. He looked at his younger brother. “Does this body I have here,” he said, indicating the corporeal form he manifested when he was at work, versus his typical hologrammatic self, “get drunk?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Not my department.”

Frank swallowed the candy, then took a sip of coffee. “I'm sure it's not so much,” he said.

“You'd get a stomach ache from eating too much candy before you noticed the effects of the alcohol,” Jeremy said with an air of certainty.

“Why are you eating boozy candy at work?” Frank said, assuming the role of the concerned older brother.

“I've been on a kick since the party. There are so many amazing flavors of candy from Mexico, I just had to try them all.”

Just then, several bald, robed figures walked in. Their robes looked almost like uniforms, and their heads were painted with glowing woad. The last wore a horned hat. “Gentlemen,” said Jeremy. “These are your new subordinates.” He pointed at them and named them each in turn. “Snorri, Svindring, Sindri, and Kyle Innlági.”

Each of the monks nodded when their name was spoken. Conor and Frank offered their hands and introduced themselves. The first three were relatively outgoing, but Kyle Innlági was quiet.

“Don't mind him,” said Svindring, who was a head taller than the rest. “He's under an oath of silence.” He slapped Kyle Innlági on the shoulder, almost sending the smaller man flying. “If you need something written up, though, he's your man.”

Jeremy, satisfied with the introduction, ducked out.

Conor looked at the near-giants before him (except Kyle Innlági, who was actually shorter than he was). “Welcome to the Taskrotta operations. What do you know about us already?”

“We've read the mission statement and the technical briefs,” said Snorri. He had the voice of a skald. “But we're really interested in hands-on activities.”

Just then something chimed. Frank looked at his screen. “Well, you're in luck. The latest prototype of the Taskrotta just printed. Let's all take a look at it.” He slipped his stylus pen into his shirt pocket before heading to the door. “Follow me.”

The four monks filed after him, and Conor took up the rear. They made their way through the halls to a bank of elevators, where they all piled in. A clerk needing to go the same direction joined them, she squeezed to the side considering the amount of space that Snorri, Svindring, and Sindri took up between the three of them. Frank looked at her and shrugged. She nodded.

The entire group got off on the fabrication floor, the clerk heading off to file some documents and the rest heading to the lab. Behind glass doors sat a room of white and silver machinery and technicians in lab coats and goggles and gloves. One of the technicians pressed a button, letting them into the antechamber. After a moment of negative pressure to pull off any excess particles, they were allowed inside.

The technician held up a covered tray, his eyes beaming behind the safety goggles. “Are you ready?” he said.

They all nodded.

With a flourish, he pulled the lid from the tray, revealing the latest generation of the Taskrotta. It was sleek and smooth with little appendages like a Swiss army knife. It had four different sensors on the front and a mixture of helicopter blades and ornithopter wings. Gloria's illustration was still along the side, showing a rodent orbiting the earth.

The monks, aside from Kyle Innlági, all let out a synchronized sound of amazement.

Frank picked it up off the tray. “Let's give this thing a field test,” he said.