a man from the refinery.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Gaynes said,
although Aria could tell he wasn’t, “but our costs have gone up today and we
must recalculate the prices before we can sell anything else.”
“We have to be back to work in fifteen minutes,”
the man said, a note of pleading in his voice. “There won’t be anything left by
the time we get off. Can’t you just open the registers and calculate the costs
there?”
“I’m sorry, every item has to be marked with the
correct label before we scan it through the register. That’s the only way the
system works.”
“The system doesn’t work,” the man said. Aria
heard the despair in his voice and looked away so he wouldn’t see her watching
the exchange as he turned and left the store. People began filing out after him
as they realized they wouldn’t make it to work on time if they didn’t leave
now. Aria pulled Polara to the back of the store as they left.
Soon, only a few people remained. Aria watched as
the stock boys marked up item after item. Beans that were one scrip per measure
were now two, and apples had doubled as well. The little packets of meat she
and Ethan used to add flavor to their stews had gone from four scrip to seven.
Now a new worry pricked her mind. She hoped she’d brought enough scrip. The
coins were unwieldy, and she tried to only carry as much as she needed for each
trip. If prices continued like this, people would be carrying scrip chains so
long that they dragged the ground behind them.
She glanced at the other shoppers. There was a
man in a Colony Office uniform and a teen who should probably still be in
school but whose dusty red coveralls revealed his work in the Yynium mines.
Aria knew he’d probably get docked the full day’s pay for being late back from
his morning break, but he stood stubbornly in front of the registers with a
meager armload of rangkor tubers, Minea’s native purple potatoes. They were the
cheapest food you could buy here, and not terrible as far as nutrition, but
Aria longed for her lab back on Earth and the chance to tinker with rangkors,
to increase the protein and breed for a thinner, edible skin. So much of the
meat was lost peeling them. She gathered a few of them from the bin herself and
shifted Rigel in her backpack as she continued around the store.
When she stepped into line behind the young miner
and an old woman in a faded green jacket, Aria’s basket was a rainbow. It was
filled with bananas, berries, dragonfruit, and sahm, the bright green leafy
vegetable that would be just like Earth’s kale if it didn’t taste like carrots.
She glanced down to see Polara taking scraping bites out of an apple, so she
mentally calculated that into the bill as well.
The registers had opened and she waited, glad
that Polara had something to occupy her attention. Waiting in lines could be
hard with an active four-year-old, and she wasn’t as good as Ethan at coming up
with distracting games to play while waiting.
An interruption in the usual flow of the checkout
line caught Aria’s attention. She glanced up to see the boy with the rangkors
arguing with the cashier.
“I DO have enough to buy them,” the boy said
angrily. “I only picked out what I could afford.”
“The prices changed, kid. You can see that.” The
cashier, another red-vested Saras worker, gestured at the bins.
“When I picked them up they were two scrip each,
and that’s what I’m paying.” The boy slammed a ten scrip piece down on the
counter with a clatter. That’s why he’d stayed then, because he’d hoped they
would honor their first prices.
Gaynes, a big, broad man, stepped quickly down
the aisle behind the bars of the register. “The price is fifteen scrip and that’s
what you’ll pay, unless you want to go to jail for shoplifting.” His voice
reminded Aria of a chained dog.
The boy’s shoulders slumped. He looked carefully
at the tubers, weighing and evaluating them in his hands
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Gaynes said,
although Aria could tell he wasn’t, “but our costs have gone up today and we
must recalculate the prices before we can sell anything else.”
“We have to be back to work in fifteen minutes,”
the man said, a note of pleading in his voice. “There won’t be anything left by
the time we get off. Can’t you just open the registers and calculate the costs
there?”
“I’m sorry, every item has to be marked with the
correct label before we scan it through the register. That’s the only way the
system works.”
“The system doesn’t work,” the man said. Aria
heard the despair in his voice and looked away so he wouldn’t see her watching
the exchange as he turned and left the store. People began filing out after him
as they realized they wouldn’t make it to work on time if they didn’t leave
now. Aria pulled Polara to the back of the store as they left.
Soon, only a few people remained. Aria watched as
the stock boys marked up item after item. Beans that were one scrip per measure
were now two, and apples had doubled as well. The little packets of meat she
and Ethan used to add flavor to their stews had gone from four scrip to seven.
Now a new worry pricked her mind. She hoped she’d brought enough scrip. The
coins were unwieldy, and she tried to only carry as much as she needed for each
trip. If prices continued like this, people would be carrying scrip chains so
long that they dragged the ground behind them.
She glanced at the other shoppers. There was a
man in a Colony Office uniform and a teen who should probably still be in
school but whose dusty red coveralls revealed his work in the Yynium mines.
Aria knew he’d probably get docked the full day’s pay for being late back from
his morning break, but he stood stubbornly in front of the registers with a
meager armload of rangkor tubers, Minea’s native purple potatoes. They were the
cheapest food you could buy here, and not terrible as far as nutrition, but
Aria longed for her lab back on Earth and the chance to tinker with rangkors,
to increase the protein and breed for a thinner, edible skin. So much of the
meat was lost peeling them. She gathered a few of them from the bin herself and
shifted Rigel in her backpack as she continued around the store.
When she stepped into line behind the young miner
and an old woman in a faded green jacket, Aria’s basket was a rainbow. It was
filled with bananas, berries, dragonfruit, and sahm, the bright green leafy
vegetable that would be just like Earth’s kale if it didn’t taste like carrots.
She glanced down to see Polara taking scraping bites out of an apple, so she
mentally calculated that into the bill as well.
The registers had opened and she waited, glad
that Polara had something to occupy her attention. Waiting in lines could be
hard with an active four-year-old, and she wasn’t as good as Ethan at coming up
with distracting games to play while waiting.
An interruption in the usual flow of the checkout
line caught Aria’s attention. She glanced up to see the boy with the rangkors
arguing with the cashier.
“I DO have enough to buy them,” the boy said
angrily. “I only picked out what I could afford.”
“The prices changed, kid. You can see that.” The
cashier, another red-vested Saras worker, gestured at the bins.
“When I picked them up they were two scrip each,
and that’s what I’m paying.” The boy slammed a ten scrip piece down on the
counter with a clatter. That’s why he’d stayed then, because he’d hoped they
would honor their first prices.
Gaynes, a big, broad man, stepped quickly down
the aisle behind the bars of the register. “The price is fifteen scrip and that’s
what you’ll pay, unless you want to go to jail for shoplifting.” His voice
reminded Aria of a chained dog.
The boy’s shoulders slumped. He looked carefully
at the tubers, weighing and evaluating them in his hands
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