May 6, 2440 7:00 AM
Having forgotten the box of V’ren energy bars delivered the night before, K.C. motioned for everyone to follow her toward the sound of, “TAHOOOOOOOO!”
She thought it would be fun to see how the rest of the V’ren reacted to Filipino food.
Her crew was ten strong this morning, which promised to be interesting. Her selfie with Matt and Dr Th’ron had nearly 250,000 likes, but her selfie series at the fire station was pushing 1.5 million.
“Make you famous, Jim!” she announced, leading three humans and six V’ren up to the cart.
“You still have to pay, and pay for the rest of them as well. That is the price of fame. You must feed your entourage and tip well.”
“Like I wouldn’t,” she said, pushing her phone toward his reader. She selected ten and watched $20 fiat fade away, then added another $20 for the tip.
With their stomachs full of taho and churros, which were always much improved by dipping them in taho, they slid into the jeepney. K.C. took the last seat, tapped the old Chinese coin tied to the frame, and knocked it against the rail to say she was ready.
She understood that in ancient times people had passed coins forward to pay the driver, but Matt ran the jeepneys as a free public service.
She also wondered about the coin. The end of the Qing dynasty was farther from the here and now than its beginning had been from its end.
She had been told to fortify herself for today’s neural-interface session, so she banged the coin three blocks shy of the firehouse and inhaled the smell of donuts.
One ube old-fashioned, one caramel long john filled with bacon custard, and an extra-sweet coffee later, she considered herself fortified.
She would have to see about getting a company ID now that she was officially working for Matt. His employees got free donuts and coffee from places that billed his companies directly.
At thirteen, going on thirty, that seemed almost as important as getting paid.
While Sera and Nessa debated the virtues of raspberry cream danishes versus matcha apple fritters, K.C. really wanted to know whether kissing the bit of dried sugar glaze from Nalen’s lip would be crossing a line.
She sighed when, from the corner of her eye, she saw him take care of it himself.
They walked on, a gang of geeks, one and all. Her new V’ren friends most of all, even if they did not know it yet.
These were her people.
