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“So Anrik,” Hubcap said, “What can you tell our viewers about this ‘space frenzy’ business?” His footsteps echoed down the hall outside the medical wing, and the camera crew adjusted volume controls to compensate. The air here was full of familiar human scents: body odor, perfume, soap. Hubcap had added Anrik’s individual odor to his scent bank earlier, and now the man glowed on his mental map the same green as the TV crew around him. None of the unknowns in the building were close enough to be a concern at the moment.
Hubcap tilted his head at Anrik while they walked, waiting for an answer and hoping that it would be one the editors would like. Frenzy was common knowledge, but the editors always wanted people to over-explain things just in case. They could edit it down.
“Well, it’s terrible stuff,” Anrik replied. “We still don’t know why it happens. People suddenly get stuck on an emotion and work themselves into a froth. If the emotion’s an angry one, it can get dangerous for everybody. We get a lot of it here, but it’s worth it for the exports we’re harvesting. Jet pods are in high demand, and more importantly, some of the native creatures make venom that can be scienced into the best sedative for frenzy yet. In fact—”
Vic interrupted. “Sorry, looks like the lead microphone cut out. Can you try that again? Short and punchy for the TV?”
Anrik huffed and adjusted his posture, looking from Graham’s camera to Tarja’s. Both videographers — tan graybeard and tawny brunette — gave him the silent thumbs-up while the others trailed farther down the narrow hallway. Elliot walked on Anrik’s other side, the picture of calm patience while Hubcap nodded eagerly at the crew chief to continue.
“Frenzy can be terrifying,” Anrik said. “We’re lucky not to have it on Earth. Back home, when someone is really happy or angry or sad, we don’t expect them to die of it. But out here, we have to keep an eye on each other, and keep a sedative handy.” He pulled something fist-sized from his pocket and held it up for the cameras. “This is our latest and greatest. We call it a SedEgg.” The silvery thing reflected the overhead lights, with a sparkling golden band and an odd tapering shape.
“Pretty,” Hubcap said. “Why’s it shaped like it came from a constipated duck?”
Anrik smiled. “That’s so it doesn’t get away if you drop it. Look.” He bent to set the thing down, and there was a brief shuffling of camera angles. When everyone settled, Anrik aimed down the hall and let it roll. The SedEgg wobbled in a tight circle. “Clever, yeah? No losing the things when you need them most.” He stood back up, and the camera crew followed. “Lemme show you how it works. Come close now.”
Tarja moved her camera forward while Anrik demonstrated. He squeezed the gold band and pressed a finger against the small end, which made the wide base snap open to show a field of hypodermic needles.
“Galloping gearshafts, man,” Hubcap exclaimed. “Overkill much?”
Elliot murmured agreement.
“When the frenzy takes a body, you’ve got to be sure that you tag ‘em the first time,” Anrik said. “This mess of spikes will go through a decent layer of clothes, and the sedative doesn’t cause problems with overdosing.”
“That’s impressive. Humans are notoriously vulnerable to extra chemicals in their bloodstreams.”
“I know, right?” Anrik laughed and put the thing away. “I don’t pretend to understand how it works on a scientific level, but I can tell you that it does. We harvest the ingredients locally, and that’s the main reason we’re here. My crew’s jetpod harvest is a nice gig for the extreme sports market, but saving folks from the frenzy is where it’s at. When the jetpods aren’t in season, I’ll be harvesting venom with the rest.”
“Would you say that’s more or less fraught with danger?” Hubcap asked.
“Oh more, for certain,” Anrik said. “Jetpods don’t fight back. Well, not much. And there’s been more frenzy than usual lately too.”
“Is it a different prospect,” Elliot asked, “Handling frenzy attacks that high up? I noticed you folks don’t wear harnesses.”
Anrik shrugged one shoulder. “We just have to be quick to react, and tackle the person to the deck before sedating them. Otherwise somebody might take a header.”
Hubcap nodded. “I’m sure it helps to have sedatives that don’t waste time. And I assume that those needles have an antibacterial coating of some sort, to prevent other problems?”
“Of course. Don’t want an infection from the life-saving tool.”
“Good.” Hubcap nodded again in satisfaction. “We newbies would do well to get SedEggs of our own, yes? They look a little more effective than our best model.” The robot pulled a small hypospray from his leg compartment.
“That looks like a decent one-shot,” Anrik said. “Assuming the patient holds still for you.”
Hubcap flexed a metal hand theatrically and intoned, “I can make them hold still.” He relaxed. “But yes, it’s a bit annoying. Where might we find these?”
Anrik led the way. The hall opened up to where they could walk more easily without bumping shoulders, with the camera crew soft-shoeing it backwards ahead of the group. Anrik did a fine job of pretending this was a normal stroll through the compound. He only glanced up a couple of times when Vic silently guided the other three around trash cans and passersby.
“So what do you well-travelled TV types think of our operation so far?” Anrik asked, turning the conversation around.
Hubcap held up a finger. “It is full of danger and excitement. I look forward to learning more.”
“This is a fascinating place,” Elliot said. “One of the nicer-looking Earthlike worlds we’ve seen in a while. What’s that travel slogan? Pretty to look at and alien enough to look at twice? And the air is even breathable, if a little funny-smelling.”
“Yes, may your fleshy gods forbid you ever have to wear a gas mask and cover up your boyish good looks.”
“Hey now,” Elliot objected in his deepest voice. “I have manly good looks, thank you very much. And rugged charm.”
“Nope, definitely boyish,” the robot insisted. “You need a few more wrinkles to have rugged charm. Or a scar.”
“Anyways,” Elliot said to Anrik, “It’s a nice location. We’re lucky no other intelligent race called dibs first. Something to be said for exploring the outskirts of the galaxy, I guess.”
“Yep,” Anrik agreed. “This may be the boonies, but it’s human-claimed boonies.”
Hubcap made a throat-clearing noise. “Earth-claimed, if you please.”
“Right; sorry. Earthlings all around.”
Hubcap inclined his head in a gracious nod, accepting the human’s apology.
Elliot kept talking. “At any rate, I’m glad we’re here. Everything we’ve seen so far is fascinating. I understand tomorrow we’ll go out on a science expedition with the biologist contingent. It should be interesting to see how their role here differs from the jetpod harvesting.”
Anrik nodded. “That lot gets up early. They were already out in the field by the time you arrived today. Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight.”
“Will it be challenging?” Hubcap asked. “Difficult for the squishy humans?”
“Difficult for you too, I’ll wager. The beasties don’t take kindly to people harvesting their venom.”
“I would hardly expect otherwise.”
They arrived at the stockroom where SedEggs were kept. Anrik opened the door and directed attention to the one-button vending machine that kept track of distribution. Tarja filmed over Anrik’s shoulder while he pressed his hand to the identity scanner. When it lit up green, he spoke into the microphone port: “For the newly-arrived TV folk.” Then he hit the button six times and retrieved shiny new SedEggs from the tray.
The camera crew filmed Hubcap and Elliot accepting the devices, then shut off the cameras to properly stow their own. At the insistence of both Vic and Anrik, they made sure to put them within easy reach.
“Are these all for restocking the vending machine?” Elliot asked about the boxes piled against the far wall.
The cameras were still turned off, so Anrik answered candidly. “And for when it breaks.” He opened a box to show half of its contents gone. “When lives are on the line, there’s no time to be messing around with proper procedure.” He opened a different one. “The refills are over here, which the machine doesn’t dispense. Not the easiest thing to install, but it makes for less of a pile of empty eggs to deal with. We make the sedation, but a factory somewhere makes the SedEggs themselves, and ships them back to us complete. Usually too many. But I’m not complaining.”
“I see why you directed our cameras away from that side of the room,” Dale said with a smirk. “Are you supposed to use the machine every time?”
“That is the official way, yes,” Anrik said. “But the Earthbound beancounters who make those rules have never dealt with frenzy.”
“Just how common is it here?” Dale asked, fidgeting with his camera strap. “Are there some areas that get it more, or...?”
Anrik clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It’s pretty common; I won’t lie. But we know how to deal with it. Just keep a calm lookout. A level head is the best defense, along with your trusty SedEgg.”
“And your trusty robot,” Hubcap put in. “Honestly, I’m surprised I don’t see others. I’d think you’d want people who are immune working here.”
“We do!” Anrik said. “But the law is new enough that there hasn’t been much of a chance to hire any. We only get a certain number of passenger ships per year, and well, they need to apply for the job first.”
“They haven’t?” Hubcap asked. “I am disappointed. Both in my fellow bots and in your marketing people. You’re obviously not advertising in the right place. When the ruling first came down and I was wandering around free, I was certain that I’d end up picking trash for lack of anything better to do. Something like this would have been great.”
“Maybe we can help get the word out,” Elliot suggested with a glance at Vic. “Put a little segment at the end of the first episode about the need for robots specifically. I know that a lot of them watch the show for ideas.”
Vic nodded. “That could increase our viewer base too. I’m sure the producers would be on board.”
“I should think so,” Anrik said. “I’ll tell you: the first thing I thought when I heard there was a show called ‘Odd Jobs Off-World’ was that it sounded like a fine source of potential careers. Your own marketing people didn’t miss a trick. And thank you, that would make things better for us.” He lowered his voice, eyes flicking down the hall. “It’s a pretty tight balance at times, proving to the moneygrubbers that the whole operation is worth what they spend on it. Our company basically rents space here from the Earth government, and that rent is high.”
“Even with the miraculous fantastical SedEggs?” Hubcap wanted to know. “If you harvest the ingredients for them here, and they’re the best, you should be rolling in money.”
Anrik shook his head. “This place takes a lot to keep running. And there’s hazard pay for a reason, not to mention more safety inspections than you’d expect for someplace this far from Earth.”
Vic frowned. “Is it because of the frenzy, or other dangers?”
“Probably both, though the inspectors really only got interested when they started getting higher-than-average reports of frenzy here. Never mind the fact that we’re handling it just fine. They’re still poking their noses in to make sure we do things by the book!” He sighed in exasperation. “I shouldn’t complain. They’re just following the rules like the rest of us. But it gets a little irritating.”
Vic glanced at the inert cameras. “We understand. There’s been more attention than usual thrown our way since a frenzy incident last season. If our next few episodes don’t make enough profit to pay off the fines, we’ll be shut down. But that’s strictly off record.”
Anrik nodded and touched a finger to his lips. “Not a word.”
Elliot sighed. “Add that to the usual pressures to get more people watching with each episode,” he said. “They’re not making it easy on us. Never mind how many people are helped and entertained, or how many businesses get showcased, it’s all about the ratings and viewcounts.”
Hubcap nodded with vigor. “There is rampant asshattery in the command structure. That’s off record too.”
Anrik draped a companionable arm across the shoulders of each co-host and spoke to Vic. “My friends, I think we can help each other out. Let’s see what kind of TV-worthy excitement we can rustle up in the remainder of the day to encourage some of your metal viewers to come join the fun.”