Conversation · Soona, the Programmer

"Could you..." She closes her eyes. "Could you just... shh for a moment? Or get to the point -- I really need to focus on something."

It's not just rudeness. It really is hard to concentrate on whatever she needs to do. And you're not helping.

"What about those bowls of water over there?"

"They are connected to my Rehm Prefect." She looks up. "Whatever you do, just please don't move them, okay? Thanks."

Short and terse -- there you have it. Whatever she's using them for, they're hers.

"Why do you need an antenna?" (Point to it.)

"I use the AR-1 as my Rehm Prefect's processing unit."

"I don't understand."

"Rehm Prefect is my radiocomputer," she explains.

"And that antenna is its... processing unit?"

"Yes." She sighs. "You really don't know anything about radiocomputers, do you?" She has stopped working now.

"I don't really know much about anything in this world, to be honest."

"Alright, well... All radiocomputers perform operations up on air, so in order to gain more processing power you need to invest in a good antenna."

"Wait, what's 'on air'`?"

"On the front. The unified front of radiowaves, licensed and controlled by Lintel in the East-Insulindic region."

"It's all around us," she waves her hand, "that's what 'on air' means."

Like love.

"And the AR-1? Is it a 'good antenna'?"

"I guess it is…" She stops to think. "So far I've been quite satisfied with it. Martinaise is an unstable region with bad coverage and the operation has been surprisingly stable."

"But it's not the cheapest one on the market, so I wouldn't recommend it for your regular red tape operations. Fraser 1000 is a foolproof line for civilians."

"Anyway..." She turns back to her terminal. "You should do some research before you decide to buy anything. Ask around, compare the prices. There are many milieus dedicated to that sort of thing."

She liked telling you this. It calmed her nerves.

"Not really."

"I know a little."

"No, I'm a master circuit-bender, I know everything."

"Then you certainly know that all radiocomputers perform operations on air, so in order to gain more processing power you need to invest in a good antenna."

"Wait, what?"

"Rehm Prefect, my radiocomputer," she explains.

"Rehm Prefect, that's your radiocomputer, right?"

"Mhmh."

"Isn't your Rehm Prefect radiocomputer made exclusively for the government-use?"

"So you do know something about computers." She looks up, almost proud of you. "You're right, Prefect is used mostly by the government peeps."

"So why do you have it?"

She inhales sharply, before answering in a single breath: "Because I needed something good for my investigation and Rehm Civic is widely agreed to be below all standards, so I had to upgrade."

"Besides, owning a Rehm Prefect isn't such a big deal anymore."

No, actually it is kind of a big deal. You don't see Rehm Prefects in every police department for example.

"How did you get your hands on it?"

"I know a friend of a friend who used to freelance for the Coalition," she says nonchalantly, scratching her ear. "I was actually aiming for the military-grade Rehm Rational series, but couldn't find one."

She pats her glowing machine. "Prefect is mainly based on the same technology as Rehm Civic, so it's kind of a rip-off, but it does have better compatibility with newer antenna models, so I won't complain."

"Did you steal it?"

"No!" She looks up, disturbed. "No, of course not. I know a friend of a friend who used to freelance for the Coalition. I bought it from her."

"I was actually aiming for the military-grade Rehm Rational series, but couldn't find one." She pats her machine: "Prefect is mainly based on the same technology as the Civic, but it does work better with newer antenna models, so I'm not complaining."

"And you work for the government?"

"No, I don't."

"How's the project going? I see that your neighbours have moved in, but all I hear is anodic dance music."

"What?" She leans closer, eyes knitted together in a puzzled expression. "What-did-you-say?!" You can barely hear her over the thumping bass of anodic dance music.

"I said -- HOW'S THE PROJECT GOING?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" she shouts, pointing at the enormous speaker that's churning out the sound. "THE MUSIC IS TOO LOUD!"

"THE PROJECT. HOW IS IT GOING?"

"OH, THE PROJECT!" Her face lights up for a second, before she gives you an exaggerated headshake. "IT'S NOT GOING WELL!"

"WHY?"

"There's that guy." She points at Egg Head, who's raving behind his turntables on a brightly lit stage, "I need him to plug a 3.5 cable into the auxiliary input, so that I can route the audio signal through the mixer into the speakers."

"SORRY, CAN YOU REPEAT THAT?"

"EGG HEAD. A 3.5 CABLE!" She rises a black cable. "INTO THE AUXILIARY INPUT! OKAY?"

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"He doesn't listen to me. He only ever seems to care about hard core and Yekokataa, 'a place to be' apparently."

"I'll speak to him, see what I can do."

"Thanks! Maybe you can get through his magic rhymes!" She does jazz hands to mock him.

"Let me know how it goes!"

Give up trying to communicate in a nightclub.