On-Grid
Cardfall Casino
Majel sat behind his desk and closed his eyes.
He had spent much of his day, from very early, immersed in databases: the private member reports of mischief filed with the Citizens Coalition; reports of mischief against the Deaf recorded in the newspaper’s Offenses Against Civilization, comparing the number and kind of events that went unreported; Port and City Security’s response to those events that had been reported, and any fines or judgments made before each case was closed.
On a whim, he had also called up the database of Deaf-owned business, noting the recent wave of closures.
Head ringing with data strings, he had spoken, first, to Bell erVinton and Konsit joiMore. Both had agreed—reluctantly, in the case of the village administrator—that the community should be informed of the mischief that had been brought against them.
He had then spoken to the Advisory Board. They had agreed that it was prudent to call a meeting of the Citizens Coalition. The notice was being sent out even as he sat, trying to recruit himself.
Majel yawned, suddenly and prodigiously. He would be wanted on the floor in a few hours. Perhaps he should go up to his apartment and take a nap.
Another yawn overtook him.
Definitely, he should take a nap.
He had just pushed his chair back when the intercom pinged. “Principal ziaGorn, Security Head atBuro and Sensitive makEnontre are here to see you.”
Majel took a breath, recalling Ander as he had last seen him, hectic and luminous.
“Of course, I will see them,” he said, and settled back into his chair.
* * *
“We have the signature of the most . . . intense vandal,” Seylin said. “We’ve also identified three other signatures of persons who seem to have accompanied the first. Speaker joiMore is consulting with her advisers concerning the best course of action. She is, understandably, concerned about calling in Civilized law enforcement or security teams.”
“Of course,” Majel said, considering Seylin closely. He read the signs of exhaustion, but there was something more, too.
“I will be happy to brief you, Principal ziaGorn, on the options open to the Speaker and her village. But, first, you should hear Ander.”
Majel looked to the Sensitive, who seemed more rested than either of his elders, if rather more apprehensive. He was taller, Majel thought, and then realized that the boy was sitting up straight, rather than in his usual slump.
“Ander,” Majel said gently, “are you well?”
“Principal ziaGorn.” Ander cleared his throat. “I’m as well as I ever have been, here under the Grid, but now I know what it feels like to really be well, so it feels as if I’m—not ill. Just . . . dull.”
Majel inclined his head. “I believe you said that your Sight was much improved at Pacazahno.”
“I—yes, sir; it was. And that leads me to what I need to say. I—I’m going off-Grid. Leaving my job here. If you want me to stay until you can hire—”
“Wait.” Majel held up a hand. “Ander, you don’t have to—”
“I want to!” the boy burst out. “Everything was so clear, and I could do things—All my life, my head has been full of fog—everything at a distance, and so . . . difficult. Off-Grid—the fog burned off. I’m not stupid; I’m not useless. I can do what I was meant to do. Yferen and Challi have said I can live with them, and that the—that my cousins at Ribbon Dance Village will teach me what I need to know to make the best use of my Gifts.”
Ander stopped, gulped, and finished at a whisper.
“I want that, sir.”
“Of course you do,” Majel said, around the knot in his own throat. “We all want to make the best use of ourselves. If you’ve found teachers, I have no complaint. You should, absolutely, be taught. But what I wonder is this—must you resign your job here at the casino? I know that you’ve been studying security protocols with Seylin. Are you interested in continuing with that?”
Ander bit his lip.
“I—yes, sir, I am. It’s fascinating, and Seylin says I’m good at it.”
“He is,” Seylin put in.
“But, this other thing—I feel it has to come first.”
“I understand,” Majel said. “What you need to do is sort priorities.”
Ander frowned.
“Sir?”
“I value your service,” Majel said. “You’re a good worker, attentive to detail, and you’ve been studying to acquire new skills. I can only believe that knowing the boundaries and shape of your Gift, and its most efficient use, will be beneficial to you—and so to me. I would like to offer you an alternative to leaving my employ. Will you hear me, or are you quite set on going?”
“No—yes! I would like to hear an alternative. Only, I don’t know how long it will take—to learn my Gift.”
“Understood,” Majel said briskly. “What I propose is that you take a vacation—perhaps four weeks. Go to your cousins and learn whatever they can teach you. I will keep your position open, and you will draw full pay.”
“It may,” said Ander doubtfully, “take longer than four weeks.”
“What I ask is that you come to me at the end of four weeks. We’ll talk; you’ll tell me of your progress, and your intentions. Perhaps by that time, you will be able to work part-time—one week on, one week off? Something of that nature. You might ultimately decide that it’s best to resign from the casino and live among your cousins full-time, but there’s no need to leap into chaos all at once.” He smiled faintly. “The smart gambler always has a back-up line of play.”
Ander’s answering smile was tentative, then more assured.
“I accept your alternative, sir.”
“Thank you,” Majel said gravely. “When do you go to your cousins?”
“This evening. The night lorry will take me as far as Peck’s Market. Yferen will meet me, and we’ll go to Ribbon Dance Village together.”
“You have this well in hand, then.” Majel inclined his head. “Thank you for telling me your plans and for being receptive to negotiation. I look forward to seeing you in four weeks and discussing your progress and plans.”
Ander’s smile this time was broad. He stood and bowed.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, adding in a rush, “I didn’t really want to leave my job.”
He turned to Seylin.
“Thank you, Seylin, for everything you’ve done for me.”
She snorted lightly. “You do well, you get more responsibility. That’s how I run my floor.”
Ander laughed, bowed once more, and left them, the door closing quietly in his wake.
Majel looked at Seylin. Seylin looked at Majel.
“We should—” she began.
“Both get some sleep,” Majel finished, firmly. “You may brief me on the options available to Pacazahno at mid-shift. I’ll leave word with Nester that I’ll be coming down to the floor late this evening. You may wish to leave a similar word.”
“Already done,” Seylin said, rising with a sigh. “You look dreadful, by the way.”
“So do you,” Majel said cordially.
He stood and walked around the desk, waving her ahead of him.
“Come along, old friend. Let’s put our plan into action.”