The Operator
Page 124
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
At its heart, the gala was a meat market, but seeing as there were only a hundred thousand of her people left on earth hidden among the millions of humans, it was a necessity. Especially now. Their population was poised to drop drastically with this generation if they couldn’t halt the ongoing genetic degradation caused by an ancient war.
The best of her people studied to become geneticists or the politicians who would ensure that government money kept flowing into the labs. A few specialized in security aimed to do the same, though on a much darker, more dangerous level.
At least most of them did, Trisk thought, her gaze rising past the class of 1963 banner to the impressive chandelier hanging at the center of the hall. The glowing light hummed with power, the crystal containing a room-wide charm policing all but the most innocent of magics. A live jazz band played at the far end of the room, though no one danced. Glancing down the long rows of tables, she scoffed at the hopeful smiles and cheerful platitudes of her classmates doggedly trying for a better offer as the final hour to register a contract ticked closer. But inside, she was dying. She hadn’t a prayer at attracting anyone from a lab worth working at.
Trisk and her father had entertained only three employers at her table, all of them more interested in her minor in security than her major in genetic research. Her doctorate in using viruses to introduce undamaged DNA into somatic cells had been all but overlooked. Kal, on the other hand, who used bacteria to do the same thing, was getting accolades and offers left and right—and it bothered her to no end.
Lip curled, she looked at him positioned directly across from her. Her stellar grades had gotten her a place under the chandelier with the best of them, and Trisk sourly imagined that was a hole they’d plug next year. Her dark hair and eyes among their predominantly fair complexions were obvious and garnering unwanted attention. Olympian gods and goddesses, every single one of them—slim and fair, bright as the sun, and as cold as the moon. Though she was not a second-class citizen, her dusky hair and brown eyes supposedly gave her a natural affinity for one thing in their class-stratified society: security. She was good at that, but she was better in the labs.
Kal, on the other hand, had been groomed for a high position since birth. Majoring in genetic studies and minoring in business, he had skills and aptitude that made him justifiably sought after, and she hated his smugness. She had to work twice as hard for half the credit, and she thought it telling that he went by his last name, shortening it from Kalamack to Kal in order to sound more human. To her, it meant he relied on his family for his identity rather than his own self.
Depressed, she looked down at her dress and the boring shoes it had come with. She’d chosen black to match her hair and eyes, a decision she was now regretting. It made her look like security, not business. A matching but useless hat with a fake rose on it hung on the coat stand her father had insisted on having in her booth, and she fought with the urge to throw it on the floor and stomp on it. I’m tired of fighting this . . .
“Penny for your thoughts,” a masculine voice said, and she turned, her sour mood vanishing.
“Quen!” she exclaimed as she rose, thinking he looked exceptional in his interview suit, as black as her dress apart from a vibrant red tie. His eyes were a dark green, and his hair just as black as hers, though it curled about his ears where hers was remarkably straight. She warmed as his gaze traveled appreciably over her, and she wished his fingers would follow, but she knew they never would. They were both so damn focused on their careers, and if she got pregnant, hers would be over.
“Wow. I forgot how well you wash up,” she said, her smile widening as she gave him a hug, lingering to breathe him in. He smelled good, like oiled steel and cinnamon. She could tell he’d been spelling lately, probably to show his skills to a prospective employer. “You took your beard off,” she said, her fingers tracing bare skin. But then her eyes widened when she realized he was holding himself differently, an unusual pride hiding in the back of his gaze.
“You accepted a position,” she said, grasping his hands. “Where?” He was going to leave in the morning and go on to the rest of his life. But finding their place in the world was what the gathering was for.
“I’ve never seen you look this amazing, Trisk,” he said, evading her as he glanced at her contract basket and the three minor offers within, turned facedown in her disappointment. “Is your dad around?”
“He’s getting some coffee,” she said, but what he was really doing was campaigning for her. “Who took you on?”
Quen shook his head. His thick hand, calloused from the security arts, felt rough as it touched her cheek. They’d met in Physical Defense 101. He’d gone on into further studies as expected, and she had not. Women, even those with hair as dark as hers, were not allowed to serve as anything other than passive security, and after fulfilling her minor in security with demon studies, she intentionally flunked out of business to get into the scientific arena. It rankled Trisk that her grades were as good as, if not better than, Kal’s. She had the GPA to work for the National Administration of Scientific Advancement at the Kennedy Genetic Center, but she’d be lucky to get a job in Seattle, much less NASA.
Kal’s laugh rang out, and Quen moved so she wouldn’t have to watch the NASA representative and Kal’s parents fawn over him. There was an opening on the team who’d solved the insulin puzzle in the forties, freeing not only their children from diabetes forever, but humanity, the species they’d tested it on. Kal’s parents looked proud as they entertained the man. The Kalamack name was faltering, and they’d invested everything in their son to try to find a rebirth. Elitist little sod. Maybe if your family weren’t such snots, you could engender children, she thought.
Trisk looked at her offered contracts and her lip twitched. “Did I ever tell you about the time Kal cheated off me?”
“Every time you drink too much.” Quen tried to tug her away, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not daring to be absent if someone should seek her out and find her gone.
“You know the worst part?” she said as she refused to move and his hand fell away. “I think he did it knowing we’d get caught and I’d be the one called a cheater, because the Goddess knows Kal is too smart and clever to cheat.”
“You think?” Quen said, grinning at her old anger. “I swear, Trisk, you should have majored in security. Maybe finished out that demon study track. I bet you could find a demon name, and with that, they’d let you teach.”
The best of her people studied to become geneticists or the politicians who would ensure that government money kept flowing into the labs. A few specialized in security aimed to do the same, though on a much darker, more dangerous level.
At least most of them did, Trisk thought, her gaze rising past the class of 1963 banner to the impressive chandelier hanging at the center of the hall. The glowing light hummed with power, the crystal containing a room-wide charm policing all but the most innocent of magics. A live jazz band played at the far end of the room, though no one danced. Glancing down the long rows of tables, she scoffed at the hopeful smiles and cheerful platitudes of her classmates doggedly trying for a better offer as the final hour to register a contract ticked closer. But inside, she was dying. She hadn’t a prayer at attracting anyone from a lab worth working at.
Trisk and her father had entertained only three employers at her table, all of them more interested in her minor in security than her major in genetic research. Her doctorate in using viruses to introduce undamaged DNA into somatic cells had been all but overlooked. Kal, on the other hand, who used bacteria to do the same thing, was getting accolades and offers left and right—and it bothered her to no end.
Lip curled, she looked at him positioned directly across from her. Her stellar grades had gotten her a place under the chandelier with the best of them, and Trisk sourly imagined that was a hole they’d plug next year. Her dark hair and eyes among their predominantly fair complexions were obvious and garnering unwanted attention. Olympian gods and goddesses, every single one of them—slim and fair, bright as the sun, and as cold as the moon. Though she was not a second-class citizen, her dusky hair and brown eyes supposedly gave her a natural affinity for one thing in their class-stratified society: security. She was good at that, but she was better in the labs.
Kal, on the other hand, had been groomed for a high position since birth. Majoring in genetic studies and minoring in business, he had skills and aptitude that made him justifiably sought after, and she hated his smugness. She had to work twice as hard for half the credit, and she thought it telling that he went by his last name, shortening it from Kalamack to Kal in order to sound more human. To her, it meant he relied on his family for his identity rather than his own self.
Depressed, she looked down at her dress and the boring shoes it had come with. She’d chosen black to match her hair and eyes, a decision she was now regretting. It made her look like security, not business. A matching but useless hat with a fake rose on it hung on the coat stand her father had insisted on having in her booth, and she fought with the urge to throw it on the floor and stomp on it. I’m tired of fighting this . . .
“Penny for your thoughts,” a masculine voice said, and she turned, her sour mood vanishing.
“Quen!” she exclaimed as she rose, thinking he looked exceptional in his interview suit, as black as her dress apart from a vibrant red tie. His eyes were a dark green, and his hair just as black as hers, though it curled about his ears where hers was remarkably straight. She warmed as his gaze traveled appreciably over her, and she wished his fingers would follow, but she knew they never would. They were both so damn focused on their careers, and if she got pregnant, hers would be over.
“Wow. I forgot how well you wash up,” she said, her smile widening as she gave him a hug, lingering to breathe him in. He smelled good, like oiled steel and cinnamon. She could tell he’d been spelling lately, probably to show his skills to a prospective employer. “You took your beard off,” she said, her fingers tracing bare skin. But then her eyes widened when she realized he was holding himself differently, an unusual pride hiding in the back of his gaze.
“You accepted a position,” she said, grasping his hands. “Where?” He was going to leave in the morning and go on to the rest of his life. But finding their place in the world was what the gathering was for.
“I’ve never seen you look this amazing, Trisk,” he said, evading her as he glanced at her contract basket and the three minor offers within, turned facedown in her disappointment. “Is your dad around?”
“He’s getting some coffee,” she said, but what he was really doing was campaigning for her. “Who took you on?”
Quen shook his head. His thick hand, calloused from the security arts, felt rough as it touched her cheek. They’d met in Physical Defense 101. He’d gone on into further studies as expected, and she had not. Women, even those with hair as dark as hers, were not allowed to serve as anything other than passive security, and after fulfilling her minor in security with demon studies, she intentionally flunked out of business to get into the scientific arena. It rankled Trisk that her grades were as good as, if not better than, Kal’s. She had the GPA to work for the National Administration of Scientific Advancement at the Kennedy Genetic Center, but she’d be lucky to get a job in Seattle, much less NASA.
Kal’s laugh rang out, and Quen moved so she wouldn’t have to watch the NASA representative and Kal’s parents fawn over him. There was an opening on the team who’d solved the insulin puzzle in the forties, freeing not only their children from diabetes forever, but humanity, the species they’d tested it on. Kal’s parents looked proud as they entertained the man. The Kalamack name was faltering, and they’d invested everything in their son to try to find a rebirth. Elitist little sod. Maybe if your family weren’t such snots, you could engender children, she thought.
Trisk looked at her offered contracts and her lip twitched. “Did I ever tell you about the time Kal cheated off me?”
“Every time you drink too much.” Quen tried to tug her away, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not daring to be absent if someone should seek her out and find her gone.
“You know the worst part?” she said as she refused to move and his hand fell away. “I think he did it knowing we’d get caught and I’d be the one called a cheater, because the Goddess knows Kal is too smart and clever to cheat.”
“You think?” Quen said, grinning at her old anger. “I swear, Trisk, you should have majored in security. Maybe finished out that demon study track. I bet you could find a demon name, and with that, they’d let you teach.”
