The Greatest Commodity (First Draft)

The Metal Planet

Not knowing where to dispose of the cup, he returned it to the alcove, where it was pulled back up -- hopefully to be washed and reused.

He then went into the other room. It appeared to be an observation lounge. The ceiling was a dome, holographically displaying the space outside as if it were a transparent window. The officer sat in a faux-leather recliner, "It took you a while." she pointed out.

"Sorry," he replied, "I wasn't familiar with that particular model of dispenser."

"I can't blame you for that, the market is pretty saturated." she pointed to a second recliner a few meters away from hers. Nevil sat down in it.

"First off, " she said, "what is your name, and where are you from?"

"James Nevil, Trappist-One-C." he replied. He'd already been mulling over a potential false-homeworld for himself. He just hoped nobody checked records.

"You must be a historian, then, mister Nevil. Nobody usually calls it that anymore, I doubt many on your world even remember it. But unlike most worlds, we Selenites keep a prominent record of all our early colonies." she boasted, "It's like a badge of pride. They may have forgotten that we created them, but we haven't. And neither has the Collective, given that they made us the capital of the Orion Province."

Nevil feigned understanding, were he to question any of this, she would grow suspicious.

"I'm surprised that you would travel this far, actually." she said, "Isn't your world about... thirteen parsecs away from here?"

"Travel of that distance isn't very hard." he said, a little nervously.

"Of course not! But the time dilation ensures that most of your family and friends will be dead or extremely old by the time you get back. Most classical people don't travel beyond their home star systems for that very reason."

"I was born from a cloning vat," he said -- another lie, of course. "So I have no parents or siblings that would be relevant to me. And I've always kept a distance from people. I'm just not a social person."

"So you decided to come here?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied, "like you say, Luna is the capital of the entire province. There's bound to be better opportunities for me here."

She smiled slightly, "which is a good thing in this case. I've already consulted my superiors about your traffic violation. They've agreed to postpone direct payment. But you will need to repay your fine in civil service."

"So, I'm going down to Luna?"

"Of course, we'll help you find some temporary labor."

"What kind?" He asked, a little scared of the reply.

"Well, as you know, most worlds in the galaxy are fully automated in terms of workforce. Luna is no different. Like all the others, our economy is based on creativity. Things like that are reserved for humans. Writers, painters, musicians, actors; any sort of creative task you are good at."

Nevil had been in several school-based theatrical productions before he joined the US Space Corps in his youth. "I've had some acting experience."

"Good! We'll see about you getting a job in that field then. Luna has tons of movie studios, quite a few could probably use an extra."

She picked up a tablet that had been laying on the coffee-table. "Well, I think that's all we really needed to discuss."

"But weren't you going to tell me about orbital traffic laws?" he asked.

"That's what this tablet is for." she handed him the tablet, "It's a full beginner guide on Lunar society and history... and law. No doubt you already know most of it. But you might learn something."