<<Thursday Morning - 06:30 - June 1, 2079 - Bellevue>>

It may not come as a big surprise to anyone that has seen AM when she wakes up, but mornings are not her best or most polite time of the day. However, since she promised Iktomi to learn maritial arts, mornings are the only time she is not yet burdened with the thoughts of the day and so she cuts down on her nightly adventures in hot sim to sleep better and train. By 6:30 AM is already dressed for a run, all the way from Bellevue to Redmond. Sakura security are still adjusting to the morning and just wave her out, not bothering to think about the exact direction she jogs which could be a bit suspicious to their Bellevue image.

So instead of lashing out at the world, and whomever is unfortunate enough to interact with her in the first few hours of her day, she does it all and more to a punching bag. When she arrives at Cutty's gym, her cardio is already up and body warm, she gets to her workout rightaway, enjoying the quit time where the gym is empty and she does not feel too mindful about other people and the way they might look at her. Cutty keeps his stoic expression and drill sergeant and she lets him, no sarcasm or smart remarks she has fallen in place over the weeks.

AM can tell it is working, the precision and speed improve as if she is becoming her new form rather than wear it like a disguise. After training she hits the shower and feel proud, today was nothing special but she looks nothing like she did just a year ago. "I am actually good at boxing" she realizes and the absurdity of that realization strips her away from yet another misconception about her identity and things she can and can't do.

AM is not present by Bobby's exchange with Clive. If she was she would say that Bobby has gave the man the discipline to save 20 yen a month, which would come to a significant sum (for him) over time after he finish his debt. A very useful life skill, but by just giving him more money than he ever had, Bobby makes his struggle to save the 20 yen seems inconsequential in comparison. What good is your effort when someone just randomly tosses so much your way, why be disciplined, why work hard? It feels like a way to an existential crisis and bad habits.

It was probably better for her well being to not be there she would realize if she ever finds out. Bobby and to a lesser degree the other members of SIS are so much more altruistic than her that interacting with them over these issue makes AM feels coldhearted in comparison, and she does not like to be the bad one even if she feels the truth in her approach. When she arrives, she is already fresh she waves a shy Hi at Clive admiring his discipline and effort to pay back, and enters without much thought to make coffee.

Bobby nodded: "Thought of that - you can pay into that account, but you can't cash it out. It will open up once your son is of age."

Bobby took a sip of the soycaf - not because he particularly liked the stuff, but to be gracious - and continued: "We can keep the account here at SIS for you - it would be a good idea to keep this as a surprise for your son. Kids like to buy stupid stuff if they haven't learnt the value of delayed gratification." Bobby didn't mention, that it was the same for most grown ups. "I myself have grown up in an area where spending all your money quickly was the norm - after all, you can't buy anything if you are dead and if you have anything worth taking, someone else will come by and take it. But that's not the way to get out. Poverty is extremely expensive. Being able to pay for things directly instead of having to take on loans makes all the difference. So I urge you to keep up the good habit. In the long run, you'll have more disposable income."

A look of intense relief washes over Clive's face.

"You really thought of everything," he says, looking much more relaxed now.

"Thank you," he says humbly. "It's the most generous thing anyone has ever done for me or my family. I won't forget this. If you need anything, I'm your man.

"I'll do my best to stay on the right path. I sometimes stray, I sometimes fall, but I'm still here. Kids, you know. They center you, give you something to live for."

Clive gets up to leave. He considers hugging Bobby, then thinks better of it, and gives him a firm handshake instead. He's lost his youthful physique, but his grip is still plenty strong.

He trips going down the steps, falling and landing in a heap at the bottom. A parting jest from Iktomi, perhaps. Clive is fine. His hands are scraped up but mostly his pride that he's wounded.

Clive pushes himself to his feet. "See? I always get up. _ow." He hobbles off.

Rachel vastly prefers staying in Bellevue over Redmond, but of course she understands the importance of this office. Either way, she is looking forward to heading over to their new place. Over there she would probably go out for some exercise in the morning, but around here that is not the best idea. Not that she is afraid, with all her abilities she would be fine in any but the most extreme circumstances, but it's not the kind of attention she wants to attract.

She watches the interaction between Bobby and Clive from the background. Surely there is some story there. But that must have been from a time before Tam and herself joined SIS.

Bobby might have some rough edges, but when it comes to an underdog like Clive, you can surely count on him doing the right thing.



A bit later, when things have settled down, Rachel asks for some advice regarding a future purchase.

"So, I have been thinking about getting a car. I know, we got some, already, but I just want one that is my own, you know. There are a few that have caught my eye, but let's just say, those are more of a future plan, as I really cannot afford a six-digits car at the moment. So, I have been looking at what might be possible in a more reasonable timeframe. I found one, that I could buy right now. But it's not really a full... car. It's the Thundercloud Morgan. And that is only under the assumption that they have a civilian model without that big weapon mount, because that is a clear no-no. A little pricier, but still achievable, would be the following three: the Jeep Trailblazer, the Toyota Talon, or the GMC Phoenix. So, what do you think? Which of these cars would make a good choice for me?"

Mato descends from the roof, where he had been taking opportunity of the good weather to do some repairs on the shingles and the underlayment underneath. He's wearing a tank top and a tool belt, plus flecks of fiberglass, asphalt, and mineral granules from the shingles.

He grabs a carton of cold milk from the fridge and sits with it, listening to Rachel's question.

"I suppose the key question is, 'What do you want this for?' Is it supposed to be functional? An extension of your personal style? Both? Because they're radically different vehicles.

"The Morgan is basically a dune buggy. They're fun! I remember tearing it up in the Sioux outback on those, racing around and jumping over gullies. Not a bad choice for navigating the broken roads deeper in Redmond, but that's probably not your destination. But if you're looking to go off-roading on the weekends then, yeah, good times. Plus they're affordable.

"The Trailblazer can do a lot of that, plus seat twice as many people, plus blend in better on city streets outside of Redmond. Honestly, a pretty good balance of form and function, just a lot more expensive."

He drinks some milk.

"The Talon is fine. It's a bit bigger and a bit faster, but can't handle the off-road stuff. It's pretty anonymous too, if you're trying to blend in.

"And the Phoenix is basically a muscle car. Could be a fun upgrade project?" He looks at Tamarind to confirm. "Especially if you want to, you know, take up drag racing.

"For myself, I'd probably pick the Jeep as the best all-around option. But, to my question earlier, what do you want it for?"

Bobby - to the surprise of everyone, including himself - had an opinion on the matter:

"In regard to your personal style, there's only one answer: GMC Phoenix.
It's comparable to the Shin Hyung but doesn't carry the stigma of being a Triad car or a street racer.'

AM chimes in, eyes lighting up a little.
“I like the Morgan.”

“We can just take the gun mount off — either ourselves or at a garage — if you go for the Morgan. It’s honestly the best value-for-money you can get. That thing basically costs the same as my bike, and you get four wheels, a very unorthodox passenger ‘seat’ with a great view, and a lot of fresh air.”

She grins, but her tone stays grounded.

“It’s not your average daily commute vehicle, though. You won’t see many of them in the city. It has no autopilot, so you’ll have to actually drive it. But...” — she gestures loosely — “you seem to want something different from your ride. And if that’s the case, within your budget, I’d also consider the Hyundai Shin-Hyung. It’s a sport sedan. Fast. Handles beautifully. And it rides high enough to take off-road, if you put the right tires on. Honestly? It would outmaneuver the Morgan.”

She flashes a slightly guilty smile.

“Only drawback is... I suspect some of us are going to want to borrow it.”

Then she turns to Mato, a flicker of memory shared between them.

“You might remember — we almost owned a Shin-Hyung. That very first job together... the kid who got kidnapped by the Halloweeners. His dad offered their new car as payment, but we ended up with their boring Dodge and some cash instead.” Her smile turns rueful.
“Because buzzkill here needed hard currency to keep her kneecaps. Remember?”

"Thanks for the input! That gives me some food for thought. As for your question, Mato. At the moment, it is mostly functional, I guess. I mean, it doesn't hurt, if the car looks cool, but I mostly need to drive a bit more and practice. Let's face it, I am a pretty terrible driver. I know that. So, having my own car, that I can use frequently, will surely help getting some practice. So, maybe the Morgan isn't such a bad idea at the moment, since it is inexpensive and readily available. It's sitting a bit between bike and car, but that is not a bad thing, I guess. As for style, I think Bobby has it right there, the Phoenix surely is the coolest out of those cars. That Shin-Hyung, that AM mentioned, is also nice, but the Phoenix has a bit more character. And the really stylish ones are out of my budget for the foreseeable future. Is it expensive to get car paint that can change color? That sounds like a great idea!"

They are all the same to you, the slight difference is if me or Mato are driving and the police are after us in that case I'd rather be in a car that earned a reputation as street racer, but lets hope it is not a very realistic scenario. No idea about the fancy paint, it seems cool though if only for not needing to decide on a color before purchase." her words saying one thing, but AM has a silly smile like a girl that got a poney for the first time when she mentions a car chase.

"I DO remember," Mato says to AM. "That was just last September. We've been paying insurance on the Dodge ever since. Although the premiums went down a lot when we were able to change our address from Redmond to Bellevue. Evidently the actuaries consider Redmond risky, neh?" This said with ironic understatement.

On that note, something catches Mato's cyberears. He walks over to the window and looks out to the street below.

"Andrew is coming," he announces. "It's the first of the month."

Mato disappears into the office and emerges with a credstick.

"This is our monthly contribution to the 'Metropolitan Improvement District'," he says with a sly smile.

"I'm a sweaty mess. AM, will you present this? Or, Rachel, you speak some Japanese. Just hold it gently in two hands and present it with a small bow."

AM waves discreetly at Andrew not something that would be overly visible, but she has a soft spot for the man that keeps disappointing them when they need anything. Something about the utmost respect Andrew gave the denizens of Redmond after the Crimson Crush trashed the place. He may be a bad person, but he replaces broken windows and smiles at old ladies.

She'll accept the credstick unless Rachel want to present it. After Mato's injury, she does not feel like the strict Japanese etiquette comes naturally to her, not after AM almost cried to Andrews face so he'll make sure they are protected from violence from the syndicate... Even then when she begged him to use his power she discovered he had none, or none he is willing to use for them. She still likes him the most from anyone in Urubia's syndicate.

Rachel exchanges glances with Mato and AM, while she shrugs her shoulders raising her hands in a confused gesture.

"Any context? What's the Metropolitan Improvement District? Don't think I have heard that one before."

"It's the polite name for the local shakedown," Mato explains. "Tribute to stay on the good side of the local syndicate. These are the fees to keep the Crimson Crush off our backs.

"Andrew is the Yakuza representative for Urubia's syndicate. He is a polite fellow, somewhat formal, in the traditional poetic manner of the Japanese. The type to say 'Nippon' instead of 'Nihon', if you catch my meaning.

"He does enjoy public displays of fealty. Usually he has folks line up while he calls out names, but evidently he's taking his show on the road today.

"All we have to do is pay him and be seen paying him. He will likely exchange some pleasantries. That should be it."

"Its for us more than for him, if you don't keep people obedient to your laws with soft power then you must keep them obedient with violence. Violence is expensive and messy, and long term destructive and nobody likes that. The Yakuza can keep it orderly without actually needing much violence because people internalize this monthly tribute, but also because they can talk about their problems to someone that knows their name. It is the closest thing to functioning government I ever experienced and Andrew has treated us way better than Mayor Sonja, or even Sakura security if you want to go there."

Rachel vigorously shakes her head in agreement. Yes, you can totally shake your head in agreement.

Say no to violence, she is very much on board with that.

"Well, you know how much I despise violence. So, this is the lesser evil, I suppose."

<<Thursday Noon - 12:12 - June 1, 2079 - SIS, Redmond>>

Andrew walks down the street in a leisurely fashion. He's human, Asian, of no special stature or physique, and wearing a tailored-but-not-outrageous suit. Unlike most suits that are slumming it in Touristville, he has no bodyguards or entourage. He strolls along pleasantly by himself, seemingly enjoying the nice weather. He sticks out like a sore thumb on the streets of Redmond.

Shopkeepers and locals come out to greet him. They bow, present their credsticks, and never make eye contact. Andrew stops to chat, asking each person a question or two. One wonders where Andrew is putting all these credsticks; maybe his suit has hidden pockets.

He arrives at SIS. Indeed, the course he walked made it seem like this was his destination all along.

He sees AM standing out front. He looks momentarily taken aback, then collects himself and walks to her.

"Ah, good afternoon, Green-san," he begins. If AM bows, he will give a small, polite bow in response.

"It is a true pleasure to be here today." This seems polite but excessive. "I greatly appreciate you welcoming me.

"How are you and your friends? Is everyone in good health?" He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

AM bows politely to Andrew when he arrives. It is a pleasure to meet you. she says "This is Rachel, and the that is Tamarind. They are new to our team. How are things Musai-san, it has been a while since we caught up. " she says.

"Konnichiwa Andrew-san."

Rachel gives a slight, polite bow.

"A pleasure to meet you."

Bobby stood in the background, but kept the pleasantries to a nod that could be mistaken for a bow, although one pretty precisely as deep as Andrews himself. Otherwise, he kept a calm stoic demeanor.
Paying for protection without receiving it when it came to it had soured his opinion of Andrew.
And as a fan of recreational violence, Bobby was far from done with the syndicate - specifically the instigators of the bomb attack on Mato. Though as for now he kept biding his time. One thing he had learned during his initiation ordeals was the value of patience.

[Sept 10th, 2057]
'Tamarind' and 'Pineapple' -- they'd made their own code names for themselves -- met in their usual spot between two all-terrain vehicles that were low enough most men would be visible over top of them, but the two young women were not, especially slouched down against the side of one as they were. Tamarind passed the nic-stick back to the other woman, and said "Ever notice that when we pick up officers who are in administrative roles, they are always in uniform anyway? It isn't like they are suddenly going to need to field strip a rifle or something, couldn't they wear civilian clothes?"

Pineapple let out a contented sigh, passed the stick back while commenting "Frag I needed that hit. Two reasons for the uniforms: first so they can tell each other apart -- ever notice that even though we look nothing alike, as the two women in the driving pool most of them think we are the same person? If we have medals or ribbons or something, that they'd remember. Second, once you've been promoted to Big Swinging Dick, you want the chance to swagger around, letting it swing, making everyone salute it." She clasped her hands together and walked around legs spread, swinging her arms back and forth as they both laughed.

They were broken out of the moment by a familiar nasal voice "What are you doing, privates?"

Tamarind pinched out the nic stick then sucked it into her mouth before turning to face the motor-pool head, while Pineapples, suddenly serious, said "Lieutenant Three-Crows sir! I was explaining golf to Private Pandey, sir. Putting. You must golf, sir? You must know how hard it can be to get it into that hole, sir."

Lieutenant Three-Crows apparently had golfed, and took the opportunity to explain to the young women how to properly hold a putter versus a driver. Pineapples asking the occasional question, Tamarind nodding along lest she accidentally spit out the nic stick. Eventually he left them, with an admonishment to ensure that assigned vehicles were cleaned before the rush of rides near lunch. As he left, he added "Private Pandey, I'm glad to see you have taken my advice to heart, and are listening more attentively."

They kept giggling the entire time that they were vacuuming out vehicles, passing back and forth quick innuendos about whether the Lieutenant would show them his putter or miming places that they could hide a nic-stick.

==================================

[June 1st, 2079]

As soon as Andrew's approach was mentioned, Tamarind made sure that the front door camera was recording, moved Beauty from her shoulder to the back of a kitchen chair, then she joined the others outside.

The uniform is different, but it is still a uniform. The ranks are different, but I'm pretty sure it still translates to "Big Swinging Dick". I wish sometimes I could talk to Pineapples again, tell her things like this.

When Andrew approached she took a guess at the appropriate bow, then stood with the "I'm holding a nic-stick in my mouth" impassive face that had served her so well over the years. Although, she admitted to herself, He's not apt to mix me up with the other women here at any rate, but I wonder if the next time he comes by, if a different forty-something human woman was here in practical clothes if he'd notice the difference?

There's a funny twitch in Andrew's jaw in response to Rachel's Japanese, but his face quickly relaxes and resumes its usual calm-and-in-control expression. Was it something in her accent?

"Kochira koso, yoroshiku onegaishimasu," (Likewise, nice to meet you) he says to Rachel, with a return bow if she offered one.

To Tamarind he says, "Hajimemashite" (Nice to meet you).

"What do you ladies do for this illustrious agency?" he asks politely of Rachel and Tamarind. "It is good to know what specialties are available."

After the response, he tries to resist but can't help himself. "Green-san, forgive me, but you have... grown? Would you be so kind as to indulge my intrusive, but understandable, curiosity?"

Rachel wonders why their specialties would be available to him. Was there more to their connection than had been explained?

Either way, she just gives a short and not very informative answer, that generally means "This is none of your business", but hopefully is polite enough.

"I think of myself as more of a generalist, really. So, whatever is needed."

AM would give Tamarind the time to answer and then say:

"Oh." She says suddenly aware of herself. AM realizes that Andrew hasn’t seen her like that because they were in San Angelo the previous month, and they missed him when they came back. She doesn't mind sharing but is uncertain how much she should share without Andrew feeling like it is oversharing.

“You don’t intrude Musai-San” she reassures him, a touch softer than her usual tone subtle indication of the shift in conversation.
satisfied to deviate from the strict protocol. “I quickened a growth spell as a personal birthday gift to myself. It allows me to do things I’d never do with my natural physique... Like boxing.”

She feels proud of herself for not sounding apologetic, or seeking approval for what she is, and for avoiding the real explanation that would sound insane to any objective listener. That she ‘feels’ that the Trickster dared her to study martial arts, and that she turned the tables to make his absurd request a reality. Saying that out loud would just make her sound delusional. After all, it is socially acceptable to pray to a higher power, but few believe that the higher power speaks back.

This Andrew character isn't a military officer, but most people with a little power seem happy enough if they get treated like they were. So Tamarind replies like she was still in the military, even if it has been most of 20 years. "Mostly surveillance and transportation, sir."

She certainly doesn't share about having a whole menagerie of drones. Too many people seem to feel that asking her to send a drone on some task is a minor ask, hardly worth calling a favour. Maybe he can put together her answer to figure out drones, maybe he doesn't think about it much. But she doesn't have to push the information at him.

Andrew nods to Tamarind's explanation but does not inquire further.

He also nods to AM's explanation. "Ah, boxing. As a child, I studied karate-dō." He uses the name that emphasizes the spiritual and philosophical aspects of the martial art that promote character development. "It showed me a way of life beyond mere combat, how to resolve things without physical force."

This does seem to be how he approaches his district, although maybe he can sidestep any philosophical qualms by getting the Crimson Crush and the Red Hot Nukes to do his dirty work for him.

"As I became older, my interests changed toward Jiu-jitsu and aikido, which led me to my current affection for judo. Should your time and patience permit, I recommend them as a way to improve your understanding of the best use of energy. Maximum result, minimum effort."

Bobby was biting his tongue - martial arts was a topic he understood and felt strongly about. Yet, engaging with Andrew more than absolutely necessary felt like a bad idea.
He was no friend and even as a resource he was overall more a liability. His help came with strings attached that couldn't just be solved my throwing money at them. Any additional information about the team was just another piece of currency and a new angle to exploit SIS.

And so Bobby remained silent, watching, waiting for Andrew to withdraw...

AM sees a different side of Andrew. It shouldn’t surprise her — the man moves with practiced control, carries himself like someone who understands the weight of force. But the way he speaks of it, not as technique but as a journey, strikes something in her. The idea that you choose the right form for where you are in your life… that hits deeper than expected.

The spiritual emphasis — the way he speaks of character, not just control — it touches something. Maybe that’s what Iktomi meant, she thinks. Not just to fight. But to learn through fighting. To pick a path that speaks to who she is now, and who she’s trying to become. She nods with genuine respect. “This is fascinating of you to share, Musai-san.” Her voice is quiet but sincere.
“I’ll see if any of these talk to me once my legwork stabilizes.”

Iktomi moves in mysterious ways.

Andrew nods sagely at AM's response, then moves to the next topic of conversation.

"I also bring greetings for our mutual friend, Stank-sama." Presumably he means Big Stank, the leader of the Crimson Crush. "He, too, wishes to inquire after your health." Doubtful, but polite of Andrew to pretend.

"Stank-sama also wishes to know if you have had any success locating María del Carmen Juanita Jaureguizar, his prodigal daughter. Also known as Marita, also known as Maricarmen, also known as Straight Edge.

"He reminds you that there is a generous reward for her safe return. Or, failing that, for notifying Stank-sama of her location and, in his words, 'sitting on her until I get there'.

"To convey his urgency in the matter, Stank-sama has doubled the promised reward. And, between you and I, Green-san," - a sly smile - "that figure may be negotiable."

'Ah' thought Bobby 'Finally it's about business.'

"We haven't forgotten about that. We actually spend quite some time hunting for her. But the trail has grown cold - and as you know, we have too many obligations to fulfill to hunt after a payday that might never come, but eats resources and prevents us from earning our keep otherwise.

By now it's more of a vacation project - I'll probably head out in a week or so when I can take a bit of time off here."

Oh, the irony.
A faint tug of appreciation reaches AM’s eyes when Andrew mentions Big Stank — or, as Andrew insists on calling him, Stank-sama. The honorific lands like a cherry on top of a very long list of contradictions. “Call him his royal highness and the dude would still be one big bigot pig.” she thinks at Trouble. Because AM remembers it vividly — that they refused to keep the search for Stank’s precious Marita, because Big Stank refused to lift a finger to ensure his own syndicate would not send more bombs to SIS. That moment said everything: just how little they mattered to him.

And now? Now there's urgency? His generous bounty and Marita is still missing? How tragic. AM enjoys the moment as Bobby speaks... but that bitter sweet memory flashes through her with a whirlwind of emotions for Mato for Big Stank for herself. I think it was the first time I just said no to money. Half a year ago, he was nonchalant, dismissive and Iktomi's willing he enjoyed to watch us at our lowest point. Unwilling even to lie to mollify us.

“Musai-San, perhaps you have any insight about Stank-Sama's newfound sense of urgency for finding Marita? she adds Marita is missing for half a year give or take.”

Andrew gives a tiny, non-committal shrug.

"There are business affairs, and then there are personal concerns," he says. "I expect that this is a matter of the heart. Emotions motivate men. Perhaps a significant milestone approaches, a birthday perhaps, and the daughter's absence looms large. But I speculate unfairly; his reasons are his own."

Andrew looks pleased when Bobby chimes in.

"Ah! Very good," he says, evidently mollified by a specific plan of action. "Please keep us informed of your progress. We will be most eager to receive your report."

It looks like Andrew is winding down the conversation to continue his stroll around the neighborhood.

(later that day)

Tamarind backed her van into the garage with confidence. She'd been driving it for five years and knew its corners better than her own -- she still had a bruise on her left hip from the dining table in the Bellevue house but not a dent on the van.

Then she had to go wandering around to find Phil. "What's up Phil, you sounded excited earlier that I was finally bringing the van in for a sound system upgrade, now I find you hiding in your own store room."

Phil straightened up with a wince, holding a large black disk between his hands -- with latex gloves in the middle, even though one of the hands was pure chrome. "Better environmental controls back here, and more space. Just got my hands on this new LP and giving it a listen. You are just in time for the second listening of side A."

From previous interactions with "Hi-Fi Phil", Tamarind managed to pull up the memory that "LP" stood for "Long Play album", an obsolete analog music recording. She watched with some fascination as he put the disk on a spinning wheel, then carefully positioned a claw-tipped arm over the outer edge and lowered it gently. There was a hiss and a couple of pops, then music swelled out of the speakers. Phil closed his eyes and looked happier than a halloweener watching a house burn down.

After a bit Tamarind interupted to comment "The sound is good, full? round? something like that. But the singer is kind of whiny, and why don't they just get a hotel room?"

Phil sighed. "Cultural context. This is supposed to be a song about teenagers, who don't have that freedom. Yes, it was sung by grown men, but it was understood in this style of music that the point of view of the song was generally younger. You wouldn't know about 'Surf Music' of course, I admit I had to do some research before I listened, in order to appreciate it properly."

Tamarind realized she was just staring at her mechanic, struggling to figure out what to respond to. Finally she went with "Is it really worth all that effort just to appreciate an obsolete piece of technology?"

It was Phil's turn to stare at Tamarind. Finally he said "Yes? Can't you hear how warm the sound is, when the analog recording is run through tube amplifiers and well matched speakers? You just don't get that warmth with digital recordings. And it is a window into pre-awakening times. And of course like with any collectible, if you play the game right it can turn a profit. An acquaintance is liquidating his collection as he's getting transferred to an aqualogy and he won't have room for it, I picked this up for only 500nY, and I know I could sell it for over eight-hundred."

"Are you going to sell it?"

"Frag no! But if I ever fall on harder times, maybe. Not all of my collection, and of course not my sound-system at home -- that has taken years to put together-- but maybe this sound system and selected parts of my collection. It would hurt, but not as much as losing my business or my knees. Although I'd certainly want to sell to a real collector who'd appreciate the albums, not some rich dabbler who would leave them locked in a sterile storage room."

Tamarind looked at Phil again. Middle-aged, going grey, moving a bit stiffly, but when he talked about music related items his face looked at least 20 years younger. That sort of enthusiasm had a magic of its own. "OK, while we work on my van tell me why your home sound system is so special, and explain to me who is buying 500nY music platters who _isn't_ a rich corporate type."

Phil smiled "Happily! I can run this to the speakers in the garage, sound isn't as good as course but still worth listening too. With your help we should have the upgrade into your van in no more than an hour, it won't sound like this but it will sound a lot better than the drek the manufacturer put in. Real bass!"

==================================

Driving across Bellevue on the way back to the house, listening to the play-list that Phil had provided to better appreciate the new system, Tamarind was not sure that she could really notice the difference. It certainly didn't have the fullness that Phil's system had, but maybe it was better than what the van had featured before? Hard to tell without comparing the sound back to back. But the science behind the amplification and acoustics was interesting, she was definitely going to research that properly later.

Just a couple of days later she was looking around the house in Bellevue, already thinking about where a sound system could fit in, where they'd want speakers and how they'd run the wires in order to run a fully analog system. I wonder if the others would mind ...

Mato is known to appreciate classical music, and also plays the drums at a storage facility in Redmond that he rents specifically for that purpose. (Admittedly, the drumming Mato does is closer to punk or orxploitation, but he still likes his Baroque and Classical music. Presumably he would be agreeable to a Bellevue-worthy sound system, although with caution: with his cyberears, he will be both the finest connoisseur and the most acute critic.

Although with his radar sensors he would be pretty good at running the wires...

"Whatcha doing?" he asks cordially as he enters the living room and finds Tamarind studying the layout. "Moving furniture around? Just let me know what goes where. I'm not smart but I can lift heavy things!"

"I don't think you've met my mechanic -- well, he's a specialist at messing with electronics in vehicles and drones mostly, but he does some other work. His place is called "Hi-Fi Phil's", you might have seen it some time. Anyway, he's an audiophile as well, and he was playing an old vinyl record he'd just bought, and even his shop sound system had such nice sound. It got me thinking."

"And naturally Phil knows someone who is selling their system because of where they are relocating too -- well as a detective I suspect there is more to it than that, but still he is selling his system. All analog, all physical wires, all meant for playing physical media, although it can play music from the matrix too. I've not gone to listen to that one yet, just looking around and wondering where we could fit it in, where we'd want speakers and where the wires could go ... "

She sweeps her hair back nervously. "I don't know how serious I am, it is a ridiculous toy. But we've had some good months, I could afford it. But can I justify it? Maybe if I also set aside a month or two expense money, in case we have some bad months then I wouldn't feel as bad about it? But would the rest of you be OK with me wedging more junk into the house? I already have all of my drones, I feel like I take up too much of the space already."

"Who doesn't like music?" Mato asks, as if that answers Tamarind's question.

"We need to consider reflection, absorption, diffraction, and diffusion," he continues. "They all ladder into speaker placement strategies. Distances from walls, speaker angle, listening triangle, etc."

Who knows what Tamarind has unleashed?

"Couch position - equidistant from the speakers - acoustically friendly furniture, it all matters. Upholstered furniture can reduce echoes, and bookcases can act as diffusors to break up the sound waves, also preventing echoes.

"Hard, flat surfaces cause sound reflection, leading to echo and distortion. We either need to rethink this coffee table or to put diffusers on it to reduce sound reflections. Same for the walls; we might need acoustic panels. Same idea for the floor. We want rugs and carpets, not hardwood.

"And did you know they make sound-proof curtains? I doubt we'll be blasting things loud enough to annoy the neighbors, but they also reduce external noise while absorbing and diffusing sound within the home theater. Wiz, huh?"

Bobby hopped down from the top shelf where he had moments before been dozing in cat form:

"What kind of music did you buy from him? Anything from Blackbraid? After the Great Ghost Dance, the Anglos tried to erase their music. I know a guy who'd pay Top Nuyen for an original. Also, their music is perfect to go to war to."

He said while putting on pants.