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Tumbler Page 4


  Libby raked one hand back through her hair, "You are one spooky kid, Dorable. Do you sleep with a rock under your pillow?"

  Dora's eyes widened and she flushed, "I . . . I keep specimens in my room. Nothing wrong with that."

  Woody piped up again, "Then, a'course, there's the best reason to study."

  Libby turned back to him, "Which is?"

  "It's gonna be on the test, dummy."

  Libby turned back to the books, "Right, right, right. Gotta pass this test."

  Woody asked, "You're goin' for what? Geo 4?"

  She nodded as she untethered her pencil, "Yep. I've been working on it for two months."

  She couldn't see him raise an eyebrow, "No wonder yer brain's meltin'. What's the hurry?"

  Libby didn't face him. She just opened up the sample test, "Geology ranking gets you higher ratings. Higher ratings make you eligible for better slots."

  Concern tinged Woody's voice, "So, yer doin' it to be better at your job? Or are you doin' it to get a better job?"

  Under her breath, she said, "to get out faster."

  Woody took a long pull off of his drink, while Dora played absently with her braid. Libby looked at the list again, trying to find commonalities between the different minerals so that she could make a mnemonic or something. The test didn't really worry her, as much as it excited her. Passing the test would make her eligible for better jobs. A better job meant more money, and more money meant getting home faster. She thought about how nice it would be to cut her indentured servitude short, then her eyes widened. "Oh rats! I forgot, I'm supposed to be at work!"

  Dora looked up from the book she was reading, "How? I mean, you're a miner. How did you duck out without anybody noticing?"

  Libby started stacking her books, "I'm supposed to be refining ore. They don't need me there, but it's the rules. I give them the rock, and the eggheads run it through their machine. Few hours later, bing, they tell me what to refine for."

  Woody clucked his tongue at her, "Yer supposed to be there. You're responsible for that rock."

  Libby shrugged, "Sure, but it's not like it's going anywhere. It's a giant metal cube, weighing tons."

  He shook his head, "It's a metal cube that you're responsible for."

  She shot him a glare, "And that's why I'm going back now. I ducked out a few hours ago and told them I was getting coffee. Which reminds me-" Libby turned back to the bar to see Miriam place a container of four coffee cups on the bar. She grinned at the woman and grabbed them on her way out.

  Libby's feet crunched on the velcro as she walked quickly toward the loading dock. She looked around quickly, careful not to drop her books or coffee. Satisfied that no one was watching her specifically, she started toe-running.

  There's a certain skill that you simply can't pick up unless you're in a low-gravity environment, with velcro holding you down. The way it works is that, instead of picking your feet up, you roll your feet forward so that only the toes are still clinging to the floor. From there, you take a massive leap, pushing as hard as you can against your toes, so that the minor resistance of the velcro is overwhelmed by the force pushing you forward. If you do it right, you can aim yourself and take steps that are about five meters at a time, making your running speed several times greater than normal. If you do it wrong, you could end up launching yourself into the air, running into buildings or the dome itself, landing on unsuspecting bystanders, and getting fined for reckless maneuvering. There were no cops in Blessed, but any witness can get the company to dock your pay.

  Libby was good at it, though. Very good. She knew just how to push off, where to let go with her feet, and she could even piston her feet lightly against the floor so that it looked like real running. It just looked like running at 65 kilometers per hour.

  She wove in and out of the throng of people, dodging quickly, avoiding barked protests. Many people looked back at her angrily, but she was too fast for them to ID her. You could get fined for toe-running alone, but you could get severely penalized for doing it in a crowded area.

  Soon she bounced up to the dock and headed to the zip line for the S&V LLC Analysis Lab. She suited up easily with quick, expert movements, checking traffic for the zip line. It was a busy connection, because it was the only direct route between Blessed and the lab. The line was so popular, local network radio would give traffic reports for it, calling it the "SV alley". All the companies had satellite stations like that. The Lowell orbital had a zipline just a kilometer away that was less busy, so some people chose to use it instead, hoping to link to the S&V lab by another connection. Libby knew better. Instead, she pushed to the front of the line, and offered a coffee to the guy at the head.

  Cutting in line is forbidden. Absolutely, unquestionably refused. A person could get lynched for trying to cut in line. But custom dictated that the judge and jury for such forbidden activity was always the person you cut in front of. And free coffee was free coffee. Libby was let in, and shifted her books to the other arm before grabbing the handle.

  Zip lines are based on the simplest possible mechanism. A pair of thin ball-bearing chains ran from the distant rock all the way down to a pole on Blessed. Engines on either side pulled the chain through in a continuous cycle. Each rider would grab a handle from a bin and snap the handle onto the chain. As soon as the handle was attached, it would start pulling the rider up toward the orbital at a ridiculous speed. The handle would split into two sections, joined by a thick elastic band. That was to cushion the rider against the sudden acceleration. Because the gravity was so weak, people could take off quickly and easily, with almost no physical shock. Some people liked to jump as they attached the handle, but it wasn't necessary. The only thing you had to make sure of was to brace yourself for the lurch. The first time Libby rode this way, she panicked and nearly threw up in her helmet.

  After months of riding this way, she was a seasoned professional, and didn't even drop her books. As she sailed through the inky blackness of night, she held on to the handle easily with one hand. It really was beautiful out there, all alone, except for the thousands of spotlights, worklights, and homes that littered her sky. It felt like hanging in the air, with nothing around her for miles. Then she saw the huge land mass, flying out of the inky nothing. She closed the distance at a ridiculous speed. Just as she thought she would hit the rock, the chain went around a pole, just feet from the surface. The elastic band stretched and gave, bouncing her to the ground easily. Swinging around, Libby ran along the velcro, still holding the chain. The velcro and the chain fought briefly for dominance as Libby detached the handle. She skidded to a stop on the ground, and dropped the handle in the bin on her way through the lock.

  She started shrugging out of her suit as she ran between the huge, slab-like buildings that covered the S&V Analysis Lab. It was hard to run and remove an environment suit without dropping coffee or books, but Libby managed. Bouncing and stumbling the whole way there, she cycled the door. Libby burst into the room to find the two techs waiting for her. Before they could protest she ran over to them, throwing her suit in one corner, "You just would not believe the foot traffic out there. It's incredible. Took me forever just to get to the Mary. And of course, as soon as I'm there, I find out there's this convention of Shriners. Yeah Miner Shriners, and they're all ordering fuzzy navels, so I've got no chance to get through and. . . " She lost steam as she realized they weren't arguing. "What?"

  One of the techs shrugged, "Doesn't matter to us, we're paid by the hour." He reached over to her and took one of the coffees before returning to the computer console.

  The other one picked up one of the books under her arm. "Find some light reading while you waited in line?" She shrugged and he took the other coffee with him as he walked away with her book. "Minerals and Inert Gases, a treatise on geologic formations. You getting ranked, Tumbler?"

  Libby's ears reddened as she took the final coffee over to a table in the far corner. She sat on the table cross-legged, cradling the cof
fee in her palms. Sarcasm dripped from her sweet sing-song voice, "I can only study and try to learn to be as great as you guys."

  They snorted laughter at that, and went back to their work. She watched as ultrasound, MRI, and EEG data scrolled across their terminals. They made mumbled comments to one another, circling some items on the screen, crossing others out. She watched them evaluate the rock by volume, trying to determine what the most valuable metal in it was.

  Chapter 6

  The problem was that evaluating rocks was not a spectator sport. In fact, it was deadly dull. Libby couldn't watch it for more than a few minutes before she started to zone out. She sat on the table, listening to them until her legs fell asleep. Then she got up and started pacing the back wall of the room. The eggheads always acted like they were doing something amazing, tracking down clues like Sherlock Holmes or something. To Libby, it seemed like something any computer could do. She returned to the table, and sat with her back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest. She rested her head sideways on her arms and watched them.

  She heard them reading off material components as they neared certainty, "0.0003 gold. 0.0012 selenium. 0.1052 copper. 0.3171 iron. . ."

  Her eyes started drooping and she tried to stay on task by remembering the exam. In just a few short hours she had to take the test, and she needed this win. She needed a better job, if she was ever going to get out of here.

  The prattling continued behind her, "So, okay. Titanium is our big draw."

  "There's not a lot of it there."

  "No, but per capita, it's the most valuable. I'm telling you, that's our winner."

  Libby sipped her coffee, trying to remember the 37 rare materials she would have to know. The test was just a few hours away, and she had just studied this. How could she have forgotten it already?

  Suddenly, her head snapped back to face them, "Wait. Titanium? From that rock? That's stupid."

  The techs both stopped, and turned to face her. The first tech, a slight man with soda-bottle glasses gave her a patronizing look, "Really? Stupid? Look, I understand you've got your opinions -"

  The other one, a large, sedentary worker with a wide, piggy face, glared at her, "No. No she doesn't. She isn't even ranked Geology 4." He pointed at her, "I've got nothing against you personally, Tumbler. You usually stay out of the way, and that works for me. If you want to get opinionated, I can even understand you disagreeing with my analysis. But you don't get to call me stupid until you've spent at least a little time behind this console. Got it?"

  She shrugged it off, "Fine. Your call. Whatever. But I wouldn't sign off on that."

  The thin tech held up a restraining hand to his friend as he started to respond. "Okay, look, Tumbler. You've obviously got a better idea. So why don't you let us in on your jewel of inspiration? We say the rock should be melted down for Titanium. What would you go for?"

  "Obviously, you melt it twice."

  They both frowned and managed to say nothing in perfect harmony, then the large tech fell back in his chair with a bark of laughter. "Oh, yeah, well, obviously. After all, it only costs a fortune to melt it down and refine it in a centrifuge."

  The other tech shook his head and said, "Yeah, that's the whole reason for this analysis. See, basically we have to put that huge slab of rock into an oven. The oven raises the temperature to an exact uniform level, and then we swing the whole oven around in wide circles so that the baser metals melt off and leave only the rock we want. It's an incredibly complex system, that costs a huge amount of money to run."

  His friend sat forward in his chair again, "Do you have any idea how much that costs?"

  Libby said, "That's why you pay for the second run with the first."

  The large tech opened his mouth to rebut, then closed it again. His friend looked at each of them and said, "How's that?"

  Libby shrugged and sipped her coffee, "You said there was 0.003 of gold in that block. So, gold has a fairly low melting point, compared to the rest. The melting point of Iron is just slightly higher than that of gold. The first time through, you refine for Iron. That'll give you a valuable building material, and it'll leave the gold ready to be peeled off. What's more, it'll leave a smaller hunk of rock behind."

  The large tech stood up, approaching her, "Yeah, but you-"

  Libby cut him off, "The cost of that much gold, combined with the value of the iron building material, will more than pay for the first run. At that point, you've broken even at worst. But what you have left is a much smaller rock of dense material. A smaller rock takes less energy to heat up, which saves you money. A smaller rock weighs less, so it takes less energy to spin it in the centrifuge. At that point, it's a lot cheaper to purify for Titanium, and you still end up with extra cash."

  The portly tech continued to walk toward her, and Libby had a bad feeling that she wouldn't get another chance if he broke in. She continued as though she didn't see him, "If you did it my way, you're making money three ways, even after the cost of two runs." She started losing steam, and shrugged into his face, "I mean, it makes sense to me, anyway."

  He was standing over her, waiting for her to finish. There was an odd look on his face. He pointed a finger at her and said, "I'm not putting my name on that."

  From behind him, the tech said, "Manny?"

  The one in Libby's face turned to his thin friend, "Put your name on it if you want. And put her name on it." He turned back to face Libby, "But that's an amazing idea, and I wouldn't have thought of it. My name shouldn't be there. When the brass sees it, they should know who came up with it."

  His friend turned back to the workstation slowly, then started typing as Libby looked up into Manny's eyes. He just nodded once, "Good work, Tumbler. We'll be on the lookout for partial payouts in the future." He looked away and ran a hand through his hair. "I - yeah, sorry about that."

  She shrugged, trying to hide a shiver that ran down her spine, "It's cool. I just hope it works."

  He nodded, "Yeah. It'll be fine. You're right about the gold, but really, it'll be the iron that pays for the second run. Quantities are higher, and pure iron is really useful." He took a deep breath, "Hey, look. Don't worry about this. We don't really need you here, and it's still going to take an hour or two for us to calculate the percentages and write the reports."

  She shrugged, "Yeah, but I'm responsible and all that."

  Manny checked the clock over the console, "Sure, but aren't you supposed to be taking a test right about now?"

  Libby's eyes darted to the clock and she jumped up on the table, "Oh, yeah. I gotta go." She ran for the door, "You guys are good, right? You don't need anything?"

  They both waved her on, "Just go. Go do your test."

  As she reached the door and started shrugging into her environment suit, Manny called out, "Make sure you pass it, Tumbler. I can't have an unranked amateur doing better than me at analysis. I've got a reputation to protect."

  She grinned as she cycled the door and bounced over to the zip line. She ignored the bin of handles entirely, and skipped the entire line, wrapping one gloved hand around the chain. Her running start got her going faster than the actual chain would have, and soon she was flying down the length of the chain. Through the local network channel she could hear the barks of consternation, but she didn't look back. She was going so fast that she soon caught up with the previous person in line. As she came up behind him, she tapped him on the shoulder, and grabbed the chain in front of him as he turned, surprised. With her hand circling the chain in front of him, she smiled at him and said, "Scuse me" before pushing off from him and sailing away toward Blessed.

  Libby swung around the corner, and hit the ground in a roll as she let go of the chain. She sprinted past the handle bin, and cycled the door into the lock before anyone even had time to turn and look. The foot traffic looked busy, but disinterested, so Libby cheated a bit in her running. She started toe running at a slightly higher angle, which brought her up over the heads of other peopl
e, bouncing in and out of the throng, but kept her close enough to the ground that she didn't run into any walls or rooftops. She could hear people shout for her to slow down, but she outran the protests. If anybody saw her, if she was fined for toe-running, at least she could make up the money with the raise from her new job.

  By the time she reached the Hail Mary, she was sweating and gulping for breath. She ran over to the table where she and Dora had been studying.

  Standing on the table, hands on his hips, was Dora's younger brother, Howard. His brow furrowed over his glasses, and his hair stood out at all angles, like a brown explosion. Howie was only eight years old, but he was rated for testing, and was the assigned officiate.

  "Ms. Carter. You're late."

  She held one hand to her chest as she leaned over and braced herself on her knee. Between gasps, she said, "Yeah. Sorry, Howie. . . I did my best . . . but I was working . . . you know."

  He crossed his arms over his chest, "No, Ms. Carter. I do not know. When it is time for school, I show up. And when it is time for a test -"

  From behind him, Dora kicked the table, unbalancing the boy. She scowled at him, "give it a rest, Howie. It's no big deal."

  He stuck out his tongue at Dora, and sat on the end of the table. Howie held up a small packet of paper, "Okay, here it is. Just pick a seat and we'll get started."

  Libby looked around at the mostly empty bar, "Here?"

  Howie shrugged, "The company lets us test, they let us use the books, but they don't give us a school."

  Libby took a seat at a table near the bar. She nodded to Woody, who was sitting in his regular seat. Howie bounced over to her, and handed her a pencil and the packet. "You've got two hours to finish this." The packet showed "02:00:00" on the cover.