“I’m afraid there’s a problem with your payment.”
Eight of the most frightening words in the English language were gently whispered in Paras’ ear. She’d drifted off in the waiting room of Erkund Technologies, waiting for her appointment to come up. Those words snapped her into consciousness as surely as if the assistant had shouted them into her ear.
The meek man in green scrubs wrung his hands—one flesh, the other a metallic skeleton wrapped in flesh colored plastic.
“What?”
He shrank in on himself. “I’ve tried p-processing your payment, Miss Briggs, for your appointment with Sircasa, and…it’s been declined.”
“That’s impossible,” Paras sat up, a flurry of fingers danced her persi’s keyboard. “There should be 30K in there.” The check up and replacement were only 5000 credits total. This was coming out of the business account as Paras considered it a business expense. She couldn’t fly if she couldn’t see which was the reason she replaced her biological eyes in the first place.
“I’m sure there’s some kind of error at the bank. Let me check on that.”
Sircasa’s assistant nodded, looking like he wanted to believe that as much as Paras did. Paras logged onto the banking site, brought up the account data.
There were only 500 credits left in the account.
Paras stared down at the screen, a red alert box warning her that a damage was eminient if she didn’t stop squeezing it. Only two people had access to that account. She hadn’t taken any money out and since the bank didn’t notify her of any strange activity, that left her with one blood boiling option.
“J.” Paras’ persi beeped a warning as the plastic cuff started to creak in her fist.
Sircasa’s assistant took another step back. “I’m sorry?” He always acted funny when Paras came here, like he was afraid of her. She’d pinned his behavior on a nervous constitution at first, but he’d treated other clients better right in front of her. She’d never been rude, never mistreated him…that she could remember. Until now.
Paras got up and headed for the closed exam room door, but that squirrelly assistant danced around her and blocked the door, arms outstretched. The shiny name tag on his breast read Philbin.
“I need to talk to Sircasa.” Paras had a few inches on him. She could move him if she had to, but wouldn’t. He’d probably call the cops on her or something.
“You can’t go in there unless you’re getting checked out. You can’t give me a valid form of payment, so that’s not going to happen.” His voice wavered as he spoke, but he got points for trying.
“I know, but I’ve been coming here a long time. Just let me talk to Sircasa and I know we can work something out. Sircasa!” Paras yelled louder. Philbin tucked his shoulders in and covered his ears with his hands. Not a fan of noise, huh? “Sircasa!”
“Please!” Phil hushed in a harsh, stage whisper. “You’re disturbing the other patients.”
There was one other body in the tiny, green two-room office, an elderly swari who wasn’t bothered at all. His aural augments must have been on the fritz. When he noticed they were looking at him, he gave Paras a curt nod before he returned to his persi. Paras filled her lungs, ready to bellow again, when the door behind Philbin opened. Out stepped Sircasa.
Part doctor, part mechanic and all tough old broad. Sircasa looked put out by Paras shouting in her waiting room, as well she should. She regarded the scene blocking her path through dark eyes, hooded with annoyance. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled back into a tight bun that made her appear older than the few lines around her eyes and mouth did. But there was this air about her, expressed in the set of her jaw, her thin, unsmiling lips and her baggy coveralls that said she didn’t have time for nonsense. She reminded Paras of a biology teacher she’d had in high school. That woman hadn’t taken any shit, and neither did Sircasa.
The engineer looked up at Paras from behind the thin glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Paras found it odd that someone who’d done this as long as Sircasa had been in business didn’t have more alterations of her own, especially a tweak as simple as sharpening her sight. She’d visited a lot of other auger shops before she settled on Sircasa, and those people looked like they practiced their skills on themselves. Paras had never got the ask to inquire as Sircasa had never left much room to ask questions or friendly chatter
Sircasa stared at Paras’ one remaining eye while Paras braced for the worst. She’d behaved like a nut job. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sircasa told her off in person.
Sircasa shook her head and turned back into the room,
“Bring up her chart.”
“But, ma’am…” Philbin wheeled around, his voice reaching a range he likely hadn’t broached since puberty. “Her payment was declined! She…”
“What have I told you about contradicting me with that bloody terminal, hm?” Sircasa even sounded like that teacher did when she was fed up with dealing with a dense pupil. “Who cuts your check, me or it? Who does your maintenance?”
Philbin’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m sorry, ma’am…”
Sircasa hmphed. “That’s right.” She swatted at Philbin with the towel draped over her shoulder. “You keep this up, and I won’t install your the synth skin when it comes in. Now get on before I replace you with a damn machine.”
Philbin retreated behind the desk. As much of a problem as Paras had with him, she found no joy in that. Sircasa motioned for Paras to follow her into the exam room. She shut the door behind them.
“He really is lucky to have this job. He’s too fussy, always reordering all my supplies every few months instead of keeping things like I tell him.” She sat on a low stool in front of her little work area complete with a working sink and cabinets. “The morning he applied for the job, I was looking in a catalog for an automated companion. A companion would do a better job without giving me any lip, but,” she heaved a sigh. “A nice ass is my only weakness. I make no excuses.” She spent a few minutes quietly sealing up used tools in plastic bags and putting them in a drawer brimming with UV light to be cleaned. Once she was done, she spoke again. “Now why are you in my shop making all that racket?” “One of my oculars is acting up. The aural on that side is messed up too, but the eyes are more important.” Paras couldn’t stress it enough. Without her sight, she had no job. Too many things had gone wrong in a such a short amount of time. She needed one thing to go her way.