Chaya shuddered at the idea of touching the carpeting with anything other than shod feet and moved into the bright, clean-smelling room.
“Okay, what do I do with these,” she asked, holding up her bag, “and those,” she said pointing to the mechanicals rumbling through the steam. One rolled past, reaching out to take the bag as it whizzed by, and Chaya gasped. “Are these the Pacienco models? The 1606?”
“Ekzakte. How did you know?” asked Xavier.
“The latest models have that swivel bearing instead of the tri-wheel bearings of the 1603 model. It’s really obvious if you know what to look for. And the voice recognition combined with their behavior analysis modeling is cutting-edge. I’d love to get inside one and take a look a their punchcard systems,” she glanced sidelong at Xav, “You don’t suppose?”
“No! Absolutely not. You are not taking apart Rey’s newest toys. He hasn’t even managed to break one yet.”
“With their self maintenance scheduling system, he probably won’t. As long as they have a source for replacement metals they can fully repair themselves, they’re designed to entirely self-contained.”
“Oh?” asked Xav as they hiked back up the stairs to the rest of the house. “If that’s the case we should get a few more.”
“Personally I think the model is wasted on laundry services, I saw the initial beta-testing reports, they can be reprogrammed to handle a number of simultaneous duties. But the regulators were already up in arms about them replacing human labor and limited how Ludiloj Ltd. was allowed to do sell them for. There’s a whole community dedicated to modifying them to take advantage of the hardware that’s deactivated in the original models,” she tossed her head. “I don’t suppose those are the Mk1 models?”
Xav snorted, “Of course they are. You know Rey, more money than sense and then he gets distracted by something new and shiny.”
Chaya practically drooled at the thought of getting her tools into the chassis of one of the laundry mechanicals, but she’d have to wait until Rey moved on to some new obsession and she got recruited to fix some other device he’d broken.
“Speaking of which, how are the brass nightingales doing? That was a delicate bit of clockwork and I wasn’t positive the parts I pulled from that bronze canary would work.”
“Oh they’re fine. If we went up to the atrium you could hear them singing. And we’ve found that if the air gets bad, they stop singing and fall over. So that’s an added bonus.”
“Is that something that ‘s likely to happen?”
“Around Rey? Yes.”
“Ah, right. I forgot where I was.”
They headed down the hall toward the grand ballroom, the strains of violin music trickling through the air as the musicians warmed up for the party.

“Chaya!” yells a voice from the couch, though as far as she can tell there’s no one sitting there, just a pile of pillows. Then the pillows move and her focus adjusts to see the well-padded man sprawled across it.
“Rey!” she hollers, and leans over to give him a big hug. “What are you wearing? I thought you were part of the couch.”
“My newest purchase,” he says gleefully, “I saw the ‘pajamas’ in the catalog and just had to buy them, and they match the decor. What a coup.”
“Er, are you going for the upholstered look this season?” she teased.
“It’s all the rage,” he assured her seriously, though the twinkle in his eyes made her wonder.
“Hey, I need a place to crash for the night, father decided he couldn’t stand having me there any longer,” she said.
“Of course, dear. Of course. Stay as long as you want. We’re planning a celebration tonight, so you’ll need a costume, but there should be plenty of space for you.”
“Oh, um. What are you celebrating?” she asked.
“It’s the Queen’s birthday, you silly girl,” he said with a grin.
“Rey, we don’t have a Queen, just a city council.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, waving his hand airily in negation.
“It’s not our queen we’re celebrating, it’s the birthday of the Queen in that book he’s writing,” interjected Lisandro. “He decided that he needed more excitement, and wanted to throw a party and then just add the whole of the party to his book. I think it’s a silly idea, myself.”
“It is not, you loved the idea when I came up with it last night,” he waved off Lisandro’s continued muttering, “Anyway, I’ll tell you what part you’re to be playing and we’ll find you a costume and fit you right in. It’ll be tons of fun.”
“Oh, I forgot,” said Chaya, “My clothes are,” she held up her bag, the now drying mud flaking off of it and into a tidy pile on the floor, “er… not doing so well.”
“Xavier,” called Rey, “Could you show Chaya where the laundry is? You have a better handle on those new-fangled contraptions than I do. I’m always messing them up.”
“That’s because you refuse to ready the manual,” said Xav, rolling his eyes.
“Come on, and I’ll show you were you can crash tonight, there’s a lock on the door and everything,” said Xav leading her down one of the darkened hallways.
Chaya knew Rey had a bizarre dedication to communal living, which was useful at times like this but also had its downsides, like most of the rooms not having doors or having doors that wouldn’t really close anymore. Of course that could mostly be put down to the general disrepair of the house.
“Thanks Xav, I appreciate it,” she said.
“Well after last time, when you freaked out when we walked in on you,” he said sheepishly, “I figured you’d appreciate it.”
Chaya coughed, “We really don’t need to talk about that. What the three of you do, as consenting adults, is none of my business. And it was pretty hilarious after I got over the shock of being woken up that way.”

The two of them trundled down to the laundry, which was located in a hidden corner of one of the sub-basements. The room was filled with light, piped down from a skylight far above by a column of mirrored fiberstone. The steam that filled the air was clean and smelled of soap and lemon. The mechanicals in the room were of brazed golden metal, stainless and rustproof. The last thing you’d want were the laundry mechanicals getting rust on your linens.
“It’s amazing that he spends the money on these, but refuses to get that nasty old carpeting replaced,” said Chaya under her breath.
“Especially considering how much time he ends up spending on that carpet of an evening,” said Xav, echoing her thoughts.

Chroma::MageStorm

“Not while you live under my roof, you won’t!”
“Fine, then I won’t live under your roof anymore!”

The words echoed in Chaya’s mind, as she trudged down the lane. What the hell was she going to do now? Her small bundle of clothes bumped against her back as she walked, reminding her of how little she owned in the world.

She muttered to herself, “See if I let you tell me what I can’t do. I could do it too. I really could have my own Zepp someday, it’s not just a cloud story. Look at Teo, he just started on that merchant ship and he’s already worked his way up to Purser’s Apprentice”

She ignored the fact that Teo had worked hard to even get that first berth on the ship as nothing more than a dishwasher. She would do better and show them all that she was better than they ever were. She stumbled in the deepening twilight, her toe catching on a rock she hadn’t seen in her reverie. She tripped and flung out her arms to catch her balance, dropping her bag of clothes. She managed to not fall but her bag landed with a splat in a puddle, not quite dry from the last rains of the season. Another week and there wouldn’t be any standing water anywhere in the county, but for now, her clothes were ruined. Not that it made any difference, since she had nowhere to sleep that night anyway.

Damn her father, pulling that fight out of thin air. She snatched up her bag angrily, flinging it over her shoulder. She ground her teeth as she felt the mud drip onto the back of her calves as she walked. How could she have missed that rock?

“Oh, right,” she said aloud, and took a moment to concentrate on her eyesight. The darkness grew lighter, swirling liquid mist seeming to appear along the edges of everything around her, illuminating the night. She glanced behind her, sure enough there was a pool of chrome gathering even now in the lee of the puddle. She sighed. Closing off her extra sense had become second nature to her long ago, the price she paid for being one of the hated tetrachromes. And what good had the talent ever done her anyway, she couldn’t use the chrome, all it did was make it easier to see in the dark. Well, she admitted to herself, and to cheat at cards. That thought led to another, Rey would let her crash at his place as long as he was still sober when she asked him. He was the only man she’d ever met that could remember perfectly well what he’d said or done while sober, but couldn’t remember shit after he started drinking.

She glanced at the sky, the last thin sliver of sun was just sinking behind the horizon, if she hurried she might get there in time.

***

She panted for breath, her lungs burning and thick saliva coating the inside of her mouth. She faltered as she came around the last bend, nearly falling on legs gone rubbery. She hadn’t remembered running as being this awful. Not that she’d done much running lately. Which come to think of it, might be the problem. She staggered against the door frame, using it for support as she grabbed at the string that rang the doorbell inside. She missed, snarled and flailed at it again. Her fingers finally obeyed her mind’s commands and grasped the thin but of twine, pulling it sharply. Barely audible over the sounds of her harsh breath, she heard the delicate tinkle of a bell ringing somewhere in the depths of the house.

Surely Rey hadn’t shut the doors yet for the night, locking out the world while he drank the night away? But no, she heard footsteps inside and breathed a little easier, a welcome respite in her current state. The door was flung open by a rather unkempt young man wearing a ratty old robe and mismatched slippers. His hair stuck out in all directions and he held his glasses up to one eye like a monocle.

“Chaya? Holy hell, what are you doing here?”

“I need a place to crash for the night, do you think Rey is still sober enough to give me a yes?”

The guy looked over his shoulder, “Yeah, you should be fine. When I left he was debating the dubious merits of vaporizing ether over dripping it onto a mask with Lisandro. I suspect it will be a moot point as soon as they decide that experimentation is the only way to know for sure. Er… are you okay, you seem to be rather… moist.”

“Yes. I’m fine. There may have been a puddle. And then perhaps some light exertion as I made my way here. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yes. Well, do come in. I was coming ‘round to lock the doors anyway, and they promised not to start without me.”

Chaya stepped inside, trying to avoid letting her still occasionally dripping bag, drip too obviously onto the mangy carpeting in the hallway. It may have been moldering carpet, but it wasn’t hers and she figured it would be better to refrain from ruining anything before she made her request.

They rambled down the cavernous halls, checking all the doors. Most of them were already locked, but it was part of the evening ritual to check them anyway, just in case. She’d stayed here before, once or twice, and Rey had always been cool about it, never pressuring her to join in on his games. And besides, drunk people loved sober people. They were always coming up to her at parties and telling her their secrets, like she really wanted to know what Xavier, Neto, and Cyntia had been up to in that closet. It was no business of hers.

A small part of her wondered what it would be like to be drunk, everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves. But the one time she’d tried one of Rey’s concoctions, she’d felt like she was floating on waves inside her own skin and had nearly said something about how brightly the west hallway was glowing, right before it caught on fire. The ensuing panic had snapped her out of her drug-induced reverie enough to realize what she’d nearly done. It didn’t matter who these people were to her, she had secrets that she couldn’t afford to tell.