“Do you have any idea how much these treatments are going to run The Company!”…

Screams a ruffled angry man in a shabby orange jumpsuit. “Yes, I have some idea of the cost Gerald.” My tone is neutral, even if my voice comes across as laconic. “Well, why the fuck do you need it then. Do you know what this does to the bottom line?” He’s just out of frame of the view screen, probably pouring himself a stiff drink. Why do they all do that. Any sign of an obstacle and they turn into booze hounds. Pathetic. Can’t say that aloud, not yet. For now I have to keep Gerald placated. “Have you reviewed my sector’s safety numbers, our billable hours, success rate with the tradeschool and university. We have so many award winning roboticists we’ve jumped ahead in ships ai service bots by about two hundred years. Our service records are impeccable. But to maintain all of this i have to work twenty hours a day, every single day.” Walking around the mechanics boardroom with the massive windows that overlook the dock yards to emphasize my point. My conference table camera tracks my movements throughout the room. It’ll even zoom in for punctuation when i trigger the action on my palm control.”Ms. Taylor, we are all well aware of your exemplary achievements with your posting. The rich burgundy suit you favour makes a striking impression on all board members.” How humbling to hear Herald… grovel. “Ok, ok, the board of directors will approve the request for the continuation of the rejuvenation treatments. Provided the shop floor continues to out perform all other Company ship building facilities. Oh, one other minor thing. I know you have a lot on your plate right now…” oh shit, I can hear the trepidation in his voice, I need to cut the feed… cut the feed, cut the feed damn it. I can’t find the correct button on my palm control. Shutter speeds are fluttering, there’s an extreme zoom. “…but, we’re having a real tough time mediating the battle between the Janitorial union and the sanitation guys again. This is the sixth time they’ve butted heads over their overlap, and the infighting and politics is getting out of hand. We only just got them to settle on purple uniforms for the Janitors, and the Sani’ guys were are too happy to have – brown. Of course. Fucking children, the lot of them. I’ll have my under secretary depose you of what road block we are currently dealing with.” And in the blink of an eye, two more full departments have been dumped in my gods be damned lap. Going to have to add two new colour bands to my jumpsuit sleeves. And I thought the mechanics were a prickly bunch to deal with. Keeping the generalists, welders, hardware techs, programmers, fabricators and cnc guys all aligned was no small task. Add to that the training, and educational staff, and an onslaught of apprentices. Jesus, even the HR teams that run under my banner can be pedantic as fuck. Not the group to play scrabble with. Nerds. A loud ping sounds off, the paperwork for my next treatment has come through. Good old Gerald, kicked that order up the chain as fast as he could. Must mean this Janitor v. Sanitation hubbub is a real shit show. With a soft woosh the boardroom door opens onto a wide, well light corridor, replete with charming wall sconces, aromatic flowers in planters and various autonomous cleaning bots scrubbing each surface imaginable. Heading to the large corporate power lift, the attendant calls it down from storage, and operates the lift to the corresponding floor. Our lifts are pretty great they can travel laterally through the station too, so I can jump over the required sectors to the elite med bay.

“Ok Cathy, how do you feel now?” The med tech dressed in blue coveralls with a stethoscope hung loosely from her neck is standing at the foot of the medical pod. I feel like I was dunked in a clear gel soup for an hour, but in actuality it was about forty five minutes. Time is money. No reason to pussy foot around. Get us up and at ’em. “Typically I’m referred to as Senior Director Taylor, ma’am, or Ms. Taylor… Jennifer, you know that.” Chuckling to herself the medical technician turns away and says. “Yes, very well Cathy, you’re cleared to go back to your duties. We’ll see you again soon, no doubt.” With a flurry of papers rustling on the medical chart the doctor exits the room housing the med pod. Stepping out of it requires a slight hop. The room is cool, bordering on cold. Pulling on my soft body sock, and all of its appropriate catheters and safety seals is a tedious and slow going job. Then sealing myself inside the more rigid and rigorous outer shell. The rich burgundy really pops in the light down here. These earth like sun bulbs are amazing. Tying my wet hair into a tight ponytail it’s time to head back to my office block and get a hold of that under secretary. What was his name again? Don’t recall Gerald mentioning anyone specifically by name. Typical. No respect for their staff. It’s all transactional with these people. Probably why they all die rich and alone, of a heart attack, surrounded by things and stuff. Leaving no loved ones behind, or as is the case with Gerald, just a few wealthy disaffected kids and an alienated trophy spouse.

“For the last time guys, keep your voices down. Screaming isn’t going to help resolve this matter.” The union bosses for both the Janitorial guys and the Sanitation crews are red faced, sweaty and running dry at the mouth from their heated arguments. “Listen here fellas. I’ve had to spend the last three days combing forty thousand pages of documentation with my junior staff and I can’t find any record of you guys having divided up your tasks or sop’s. Now that you’ve come under the umbrella of The Company, you no longer retain the rights to dictate what, where, when or how, or even who gets to perform what tasks. You signed away those rights for those awesome colour coded uniforms and our involvement in your organization. No. No, you keep your mouths shut. I get that you’ve always had your own say, and had control. But those shifts are gone. Do I have your undivided attention now.” The room is silent, all bodies in the room, or seated at the conference table are stock still. “Now, as a matter of union dues, those all come to us to disburse. Schedules, vacation, benefits, workload, day to day activities will now be dictated to you. We OWN you now. So, first order of business. You will provide us with, in exacting detail, every single job description contained in your organization, their task requirements, educational needs, training parameters, pay structure, organizational structure, and any issues you encounter, no matter how small, that disrupts your ability to perform your duties. Should we find overlap, we’ll convene a task force, from both branches and we’ll sort it out as we come to it. That is all.” The shocked faces are quiet, dumbfounded by the enormity of what they had entered into. Stand up as one, and burst out into fits of laughter. Two men, twin brothers step around the far side of the board room table, putting themselves between me and the door. “Ms. Taylor, we have all that completed all ready. You see, we’re a tad sneaky. We listen to every conversation aboard this station. We came to suspect that you were the one to lead us. Our fights are imaginary. We simply made them up, to tire out the other directors, so they’d dump us on you. They don’t care. Those silly fucks always want to bury their noses in their own business and could care less about us janitors, and sanitation guys. But you!” They say it in unison, like they share one joint brain. It’s quite alarming to hear this speech in stereo. “You know your people. You have a reputation for getting shit done. Finding the needed resources, then getting. The. Fuck. Out. The. Way!” Punctuated by finger guns, claps and stomping feet from the rest of the room. Oh these guys are good. They played all the senior staff like fiddles with vacuous time sucking squabbles. “Well, gents I’m glad to be of service. But that trick only works once. Now if you’ll excuse me, we are about to launch the largest ever starship, Margot’s Fever, and I have a live cast to catch from my quarters. You have my direct line.” I can hear music playing, as the gathered team starts to pop bottles and dance in celebration. I leave feeling both relieved and shocked. How did they fool so many members of the board of directors. What did they mean about listening to every conversation. That tid bit might come in handy.

Down in the bowels of the station, the sanitation crews are hard at work, fixing, replacing, updating the hardware to all of the waste recyclers.  Although the brown uniforms were a joke, the brave men and women who work with medical and human waste are a tight knit bunch. The joke is that once you go brown, you swirl down and never get seen again. People who don’t work with feces just don’t get their particular brand of humor. The accommodations down here are vastly superior to anywhere else on board the station. Even the upper echelon don’t have rooms like these. No one bothers to check the specs when you deal with what’s flushed down the shitter.

PART XI