Chapter 1 #4
I can’t believe I missed news like that, but now it totally makes sense why airport security feels more oppressive than usual.
TerraPura has been causing problems everywhere, here in the States and in Europe.
It’s normally pretty hard to ignore, but I’ve been so busy.
With all the news about more layoffs, economic hardship, and proxy wars, I’ve been deliberately avoiding keeping up with it.
Big mistake. I feel a bit sheepish at being so self-absorbed.
“Did they catch whoever was responsible?”
“It was TerraPura, most definitely. As far as catching someone, there was nothing to catch.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the android just walked in and blew itself to smithereens, took people with it, and injured a lot more. Just make sure you never go into downtown New Carnegie alone,” Lindsay says as she samples a slice of sweet bread herself.
“It’s not safe anymore. Especially for pretty young ladies like you. ”
“I’m not sure about young, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, trying not to think about something so sinister.
Another terrorist bombing, right in our city?
It’s too awful to comprehend. As Lindsay returns to her work, I can’t help myself then; I pull up a news app on my phone and browse through several articles as I continue enjoying my sweet bun.
I find photos of the museum exterior, the ambulances, the police, and sigh softly to myself.
New Carnegie isn’t perfect. I’ve always known that. BioNex is here, after all, and there was that attack last year too, at the Humanity First march. But I’m not planning on walking alone in downtown New Carnegie at night, and Belmont seems safe enough. Maybe it’ll be fine.
Just in case, though, I should talk to Apollo and Jessica about it and make sure I take the proper precautions.
I grew up here; it’s not like I don’t know New Carnegie can be a dangerous city, and how careful a woman needs to be when she’s going out.
But with the added danger of explosive robots trying to take out busloads of children in history museums, I need to know what to look for.
Androids are everywhere on the West Coast too, so they never really bothered me.
Now, after losing my job, I’m not sure how I feel.
Sure, I’m pissed, and I’ve always been a little sympathetic to Humanity First, advocating for the preservation of jobs for human beings.
But I’ve never fully jumped on board with them either.
I don’t like how violent some of their people can be, and even though I’ve listened to a lot of Katrina Carson’s interviews within the Humanity First movement, her dad is the founder, and he isn’t my favorite personality.
I just want to design pretty dresses and market my sister-in-law’s creations.
Borrowing trouble isn’t going to preserve my mental health, and from what I can tell, there’s an android scanner already installed at the front entrance of the store.
Part of President McKinley’s mandates to protect people from TerraPura.
I push past those thoughts, focusing on Lindsay instead when she returns from checking the changing rooms. “Thanks for the treat. It’s delicious. Do you think you could give me the tour? It’ll give me an idea of where to get started on the social media account.”
“No time like the present, then,” Lindsay says as we finish our pastries. She hands me a napkin. “You got some on your nose.”
I clean myself up bashfully. “Thanks.”
Cyber Street has so much unique charm I’m already bursting at the seams with ideas as Lindsay gives me the grand tour.
Jessica designs every piece of clothing herself, and she only hires employees with fashion aspirations, so if her workers design something she likes, she compensates them and includes it in her collection.
The style Jessica works with is currently all the rage: cyber chic.
Functional street clothing in dark yet striking colors; pieces designed for comfort and movement, as well as making a statement.
For women, there’s everything from wildly vibrant dresses meant for nights out at the club to attention-grabbing business skirts with iridescent trim and glimmering, high-collared blouses with puffy sleeves and tight arm cuffs.
The men’s side of the store focuses on both street comfort and casual business, with anything from shimmery blue tracksuits to glittery silver turtlenecks to match with muted business slacks.
I’m proud my sister-in-law is at the forefront of this fashion. As far as I’m concerned, Hollywood and Paris have nothing on Jessica Bennett.
And if I can help it? Movie stars will be calling her for custom designs for their red-carpet debuts, and Paris will be clamoring for her by the time I’m through here.
“Mornings are always quietest for us, so that’s when we get our stocking and inventory done,” Lindsay explains as we walk together through the store.
“We open at ten a.m., start seeing a steady flow of customers after lunch, then it gets busy between six and eight p.m for the night crew. People also always file in after getting coffee from the café next door. They can’t resist.”
“That’s good to know.” I make a mental note of that. If I’m going to be shooting videos and creating marketing material, mornings may be best for aesthetic, so I’m not interrupting customers’ shopping experiences.
“People really come this far to shop? From the city, I mean?” I ask as we return to the back room.
I help her open some new boxes of inventory.
Another employee arrives, a young lady who looks fresh out of high school.
She’s sporting clothes that Jessica designed last year, a short black skirt with iridescent leggings and a fishnet sweater that hangs off one shoulder, showing off her black sporty cross-strap underneath.
“Of course,” Lindsay says. “Jessica’s made quite a name for herself here.”
“How long have you worked with Jess?”
“Since the opening two years ago. And let me tell you, most small businesses fold within the first two years. Not Cyber Street, and that’s thanks to her.
People in New Carnegie crave individuality, and her designs deliver.
Things here may be more expensive than what you can buy in any old warehouse where everything is mass-produced, but people are willing to pay to stand out and feel seen, especially in New Carnegie. ”
“Good morning,” the newly arrived employee says cheerily.
“This is Christina,” Lindsay says. “She’s one of our backroom stockers.”
I wave at her. “Hi. I’m Mia.”
“Ooh, the marketing wiz I’ve been hearing so much about!” Christina bounces in place. “What was it like living in LA? Did you see a lot of celebs? Oh my god, will I be in some of your videos?”
“Of course. I’ll be making a lot of those.”
For the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon, I follow Lindsay and Christina around and help them with anything they need.
In the afternoon two other employees arrive, whom Jessica refers to as style advisors—a bubbly pink-haired, self-professed makeup expert named Rae-Rae and a friendly university student named Alia, who really gets my attention with how she styled her leggings and long-sleeved dress with her long, silky lavender hijab.
“It’s important to Jessica that the customers see us in clothes from the store, so she gives us each a monthly allowance to pick anything we want,” Alia explains happily after our introduction.
I’m excited to pick out my own fresh wardrobe from Cyber Street, knowing that every piece was lovingly designed by Jess’s own hands.
Of course, I have pieces from birthdays and Christmases from over the years that she’s gifted me, tailored specifically to my size and height.
It’s hard for me to find pants that fit my long legs, and I want to make sure I’m dressed to show off what’s new and available now, so that people feel like they can’t live without it.
I don’t think my pride can balloon any bigger.
I’m delighted to discover our business neighbor, Royal Empress Café, serves milk tea as well as coffee.
Giving myself a break, I stop by to order taro with tapioca pearls and relish my mid-afternoon treat.
I’ve got so much that I can do here to help Jessica’s brand take over the region, and after that, who knows?
What’s even better is I’m just getting the word out. Everything here speaks for itself. I need to get the rest of the world on Cyber Street’s wavelength.
No big deal, right?
* * *
Being in marketing probably sounds boring, but mastering algorithms has always been a talent of mine, ever since I was a teenager.
I worked my way up the ladder of a corporate fashion juggernaut, Rousseau.
I was incredibly good at my job. I eat, sleep, and breathe this stuff.
But now that I’ve had time to reflect and do research, I know that my old job was likely underpaying me before slashing my position altogether.
On the plane, I got curious and looked up Rousseau in the news.
Their plan to replace their workforce in major departments with androids has come with some blowback, in the form of Humanity First’s California chapter.
Their PR is definitely taking a beating, and I have to admit, it’s giving me some satisfaction.
They might’ve still axed me, but they didn’t get away with it scot-free. That feels good.
If I were in another job like that back in California, I’d be vicious about my salary requirements. But Apollo invited me here, and he and his wife are taking care of my room and board. I’m not demanding anything, and I’m fine with the pay cut for now. I’ll be making enough to feel comfortable.