Bright Lights, Fast Carriages 5.1

Sunlight glittered down between the tall glass and stone towers of Pescia City, the heart and capital of the Democratic Pescian Stellar Commonwealth. Birds with four wings flapped between blue and red leafed trees, children of several different species played on swings in a small corner of the city’s verdant central park, and if one could overlook the faint tang of aetheric pollution in the air, it was all in all quite pleasant.

But a nice park wasn’t the reason that Mishka had come back to the city where she’d left Astrid a week earlier. Well, no, she’d come back for Astrid — but she was in the park for something than ran a close second in importance.

“A box of six jam doughnuts, please,” said Mishka, holding out a wad of ‘paper money’ to the vendor she’d gotten from a puzzle-wall.

Puzzle-walls were some kind of wall-mounted vault which gave out money if you could figure out how to bypass their very rudimentary wards. Mishka was familiar with such devices from her earlier visits to currency using worlds, and although it did feel a bit like cheating, it wasn’t her fault that by Ursulan standards their arcane puzzles were laughably basic.

“That- you crazy, lady?” said the masculine alf, who was sporting a jolly red apron with ‘Dan’s Doughnuts!’ on it.

Mishka’s heart fell. Had the run out of the delicious treats already? She’d been thinking about the pastries the entire week she’d been on the asteroid. The thought of sinking her fangs into the fluffy, sugary goodness, within which lay the delicious jammy core had made the long hours of disassembling primitive systems and trying to cobble them together into a rocket easier. A box of them was to have been her reward for her public service of slinging ‘The Absence,’ as she’d dubbed the monster that made people forget its victims, into the blue hole that had nearly swallowed the Starseeker.

Well, it would get there in a century or two.

She felt tears prickle at the edges of her eyes. “You’re- you’re out?”

“What? No,” said the vendor. “I just don’t need… is that, fifty thousand credits? A hundred thousand?”

“Oh, it’s too much?” said Mishka.

“Lady, you crazy,” said ‘Dan.’ Or, at least, she assumed they were Dan. “A box of six is eight credits fifty.”

“Oh,” she said brightly, looking at the wad of cash. She pulled out a single note with a ‘100’ written on it and handed it to them. “Is that enough then?”

“You… got anything smaller?” said ‘Dan.’

“I suppose I could tear it in half…” she said, pressing it between her thumb and forefingers.

“What!? No!” said Dan, an edge of desperation in their voice.

Primitives and their ‘money,’ they were so weirdly precious about it.

“Look, I really don’t care, you can have all of it,” said Mishka, putting the stack of cash down onto the cart. “Oh, but maybe I can get two boxes?”

The vendor looked at her as if she was insane, but after a moment snatched up the cash with trembling hands. They glanced left and right, and then stuffed it into their apron. “Two boxes?” they laughed. “Yeah… yeah, sure. No problem.”

Mishka hummed as she walked away a few minutes later, munching on one of the delicious, warm sugary treats as she wandered between the trees in the direction of Astrid’s apartment. She was planning to stay here for a few months, and was honestly looking forward to spending the time with Astrid. Although even that happiness was soured by the persistent voice in the back of her heading, telling her that she’d have to move on soon, and by the time she swung back round to this part of the galaxy, if she ever did, Dan and his (she’d asked, because no one seemed to introduce themselves properly in this damned primitive society) doughnut stand would be gone.

Apart from the loneliness, that was one of the things she found hardest: finding a place with some particularly delicious food, and then having to leave it behind forever. She collected recipes, sometimes even seeds, all in a vain hope she might one day be able to recreate some of the masterpieces she had tasted. But while Mishka was brilliant beyond the ken of most lifeforms, and could, and often had, assembled space-worthy voidships from junk, she was not a good cook, and her attempts to recreate the dishes were always disappointing, and usually burnt.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter, because she had twelve balls of delicious, heavenly goodness: fluffy white pasty dusted with sweet white sugar, and within, the beautiful, slightly tart ‘redberry jam.’

She wandered out of the park and into the busy streets, munching as she went. Alves and humans and gretchen and many more species were rushing too and fro with harried looks on their faces. Most were dressed in smart, rather unimaginative black suits. She got a few looks, perhaps because they thought she was a ‘Magician’ – but she’d rather be a magician than a drained husk of a person.

A few were noticeably more dishevelled, and sat on the side-walks with glassy eyes and downcast faces, hands and hats and cups outstretched as the others passed them by without looking. Mishka had a few more of the wads of cash left over from the puzzle-wall, and distributed them as she went, leaving a trail of confused but ecstatic people in her wake. She moved on, making her way through the first box of treats and starting on the second as she continued in the general direction of Astrid’s apartment.

Eventually she reached some kind of large square in front of a particularly looming glass and stone and steel tower. There was a huge mana-screen that showed some primitive with a rather ugly yellow cap on, and a kind of droopy face and slightly bloodshot eyes.

The assembled mass of people in the square had also similarly poor sartorial choices. Most of them seemed to also be human, with only a smattering of alves and gretchen mixed it. Many were holding placards that said ‘Stunk!’ in yellow and green. There were also dozens of the city’s brown-clad and armoured Enforcers, who sported swords and batons at their hips, and folded cross-bows across their backs as they stood around next to armoured air-carriages.

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Right, Astrid had mentioned something about an election when Mishka had dropped her off. This was presumably one of the candidates for Supreme Leader or whatever they called the single individual in their political system who, as far as she could tell, wielded pretty close to absolute power.

“It’s, uh, so good to see you all today,” said the giant figure, who’s voice was being blared from some rather tinny speakers. “We’re- we’re broadcasting all across Pescia. Yeah! Radical!”

The crowd cheered as if this were a particularly eloquent opening to a speech.

“We’ve been doing so well, and the, uh, what I want to convey is that we, well we’ve been sort of… you know, we’re kicking ass in the polls!” continued the masculine human, perhaps ‘Stunk?’ “I think, yeah, I think we’re gonna win!”

The crowd cheered even harder.

“So, you know, what I’m trying to say is… go out and vote on Saturday!” he said. “Because only we can, you know, save this Commonwealth! We’ve got to stop the radicals before they- what we’re trying to- is save our- our great union! And we’ve got to, well, what we’ve got to do is reduce alien immigration! We’re going to, like, have the best economy! The best economy! It’s going to be so beautiful, so beautiful. You’re- you’re, what I’m saying is, no one’s going to believe it”

The humans in the square started to chant: ‘Stunk!’ ‘Stunk!’ ‘Stunk!’ The speaker, ‘Stunk’ – presumably – pumped their fists for a moment, before making some kind of awkward double tap to his heart with a closed fist that made the crowd go even wilder.

“Thank-you, thank-you! And, uh, Saints- you know, Saints Bless the Commonwealth!”

Stunk clapped for a few more moments, before the screen faded and the crowd began to quieten down. The rally began to slowly break up, and hawkers selling ugly yellow and green themed T-shirts and flags and hats and other accoutrements starting shouting over one another to get the attention of the attendees.

Mishka found a bench and continued to work her way through the doughnuts as the last of yellow clad attendees gradually melted away into the sombre suit wearing throng. She was just dusting off her hands when a familiar voice came from her left.

“Mishka!?”

Mishka turned to see a familiar face. The only familiar face on this world, even: Astrid.

The bespectacled human woman looked significantly worse for wear. Her suit jacket and shirt were crumpled, she had deep bags under her bright blue eyes, and her blonde hair hung limp and lank around her face. She had a cardboard cup of coffee in a trembling hand, and she looked as if she’d been crying.

“Oh, hi Astrid! I was just on my way to…” began Mishka, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” said Astrid. “I thought- weren’t you going back to seal that thing away?”

“Oh yes, done that, ‘the Absence’ is on its way to the blue hole - much quicker to get there and back now that I know the way,” said Mishka, holding up a box. “Doughnut?” She looked at it. “Oh, sorry, I ate them all…”

Astrid sat down next to her.

“So… are you OK?” asked Mishka. She wasn’t great at reading her friend, but she definitely didn’t seem OK.

“Of- of course I’m not fucking OK!” said Astrid, virtually screaming. Several of her nearby fellow suit-wearers looked at her with disapproval. “I’m being blamed for the loss of the base! Stellar Horizons is suing me! My career is over, and- and there is talk that I’m going to be charged with the murder of seven people who I still can’t even remember!”

Astrid carefully set her coffee down between them and then covered her face in her hands.

“I’m fucked,” Astrid whispered.

“Oh, um, sorry,” said Mishka, rubbing her back. “Can… can I help?”

“You got ten million credits on you?” said Astrid bitterly.

“Err…” said Mishka, rummaging around in her cloak’s pockets for a moment before finding a wad of cash she must have missed when she’d been handing them out. “I think this is… one million? I think? Does that help?”

Astrid looked up with wide eyes. “Where- where did you get one million credits!?”

“A puzzle-wall thing,” said Mishka. “It was very easy. I can get more-”

“A ‘puzzle- puzzle-wall?’” said Astrid.

“Yeah, you know, those puzzle walls that have money in them,” said Mishka. “I can go and find another one if you need more. Really, it’s no trouble.”

“Mishka, those aren’t fucking puzzle-walls!” shouted Astrid. “Those are Automated Cashiers! And- and you stole from them!”

“Did I?” said Mishka, looking at the cash. “It did feel a bit too easy, even for primitives.” Mishka cleared her throat. “So that’s a… no on me getting more?”

“Oh, Saints!” said Astrid, putting a hand to her mouth and glancing around wildly at several people who were looking at Mishka’s fist-full of proffered cash. “Put that away! They’re going to think I- they’re going to think I took a bribe from some alien power to sabotage the base!”

“Hey, you!” shouted one of the enforcers, who’d been standing around, advancing on Mishka and Astrid with two of their fellows. “The alien with the bear ears!”

Astrid began to breathe very rapidly.

“Yes?” said Mishka, politely – even thought it was a bit rude to call someone ‘alien with the bear ears.’ Primitives had no manners.

“Where’d you get all that cash?” said the enforcer.

“A puzzle-” began Mishka, before she remembered what Astrid had said. Dammit, how did ‘normal’ people get lots of money on worlds like this again? She’d read about it. She knew this... “I mean I… err, I got it from my employees. That’s right, I, as a member of the capitalist class, invested money to purchase labour-time, raw materials, and manufacturing premises. I then proceeded to used said purchases to produce a good, the exchange value of which I realised at market, and using the threat of destitution as leverage extracted the surplus value of my employee’s labour as profit.”

The enforcer gave her a confused look. Mishka looked at Astrid who was giving Mishka a very pained expression. Mishka ran her mind back over her words. No, that was all right, she’d accurately described the basic functioning of capitalism. Why were they so confused about their own economic system?

Oh! Of course.

“Perhaps you, as a servant of the capitalist state, would like some additional remuneration?” said Mishka, pulling off a few hundred credit bills. “Here you go. Well done in upholding the stratified economic order.”

“Are you trying to bribe me, ma’am?” said the enforcer.

Mishka frowned. “Yes…?” she said speculatively. That was how capitalist states worked, right? Bribes?

“Ma’am, you are under arrest for attempting to bribe a member of law enforcement,” they said, producing a pair of handcuffs and locking her wrists together. “And for the robbery of the Pescian Interstellar Bank this morning. You may choose to remain silent, being aware that anything you do say may be used in a court of law against you.”

“Hold on, I’m- I’m a member of the ruling class! You can’t arrest me!” protested Mishka. “Just look at all my money!”

“And you, stop right there!” said an enforcer to Astrid, who had been attempting to discreetly leave. “You’re also under arrest!”

“What- what for!?” said Astrid.

“For aiding and abetting in the robbery of the Pescian Interstellar Bank,” said the enforcer as Astrid was also cuffed. “You may choose to remain silent, being aware that anything you do say may be used in a court of law against you.”

“No, please! This is all a misunderstanding! I’ve never met this woman before in my life!” sobbed Astrid as the enforcer’s led them over to a sky-carriage. “No! No, please!”

They were both shoved roughly into the back of the sky-carriage, which had hard wooden benches running along either side. There was a small, reinforced door at the far end of the reinforced cabin, and some kind of slot that could be presumably opened from the other side. The barred door banged shut behind them, and a few moments later, the craft’s anti-gravity enchantments whirred into life and they lifted into the air.

“I’ve never been arrested for robbing a bank before,” said Mishka, somewhat excited. She peered at her cuffs. They were heavy, wrought iron things, although they seemed to be very lightly warded – surely even a Pescian wizard would be able to break out with ease?

“I hate you!” screamed Astrid, who seemed to be taking things rather poorly. “I hate you so much!”