“The line you are contacting is busy at the moment, please try again later.”

  Odette sighed. Setting down the receiver in the communications tent, she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her tan lab coat.

  That was the third time in two days she had attempted to contact the hospital where her brother was staying, and was met with some obstruction. It had been either a busy line or a service outage every time, which both frustrated Odette and was starting to make her suspicious.

  Lukas had been in and out of hospitals, mostly in, for the past four years. He had been able to go to a great one just after she had landed her position in the department, which had burdened her with the requirement of relationships that Odette was now reminded of again.

  Despite her attempts to avoid it, strings had been pulled to get Lukas the treatment he needed.

  The nation where he had been sent, called the Henna Duchy, was a small territory on the outskirts of the continent where the Amber Principality resided. Short of the Principality itself, their medical field was the most advanced in the world. But problematically, their largest trading partner was the Republic’s competitor.

  Odette knew the very people who had allowed for her brother’s migration now kept a close eye on her progress. Everything was tit for tat. She couldn’t keep Lukas there unless she performed well.

  So were they responsible for the obstructions?

  Odette felt paranoid. Logically, it didn’t make any sense for them to do that at this time.

  After finishing her assignment here, she would be in a position to start paying them back, so if anything they would have incentive to keep things the way they were.

  Unless Caleb had already started reporting on her aptitude negatively. While that was unlikely, it would surely lead to the current situation. Her backers would send their message by taking away the presence of her greatest self-motivator, if only by severing their communication.

  But surely the head researcher couldn’t have done so.

  She knew he disliked her, for whatever reason, but it was doubtful he would put that in writing until the end of the project neared. By then she hoped to have made amends for whatever slight he had received from her.

  So perhaps it really was just a coincidental string of bad luck, whenever Odette tried the radio. Yet what the nurse had said the last time she had been able to get through planted a seed of doubt.

  Odette sighed.

  If there was one thing that was going well for her apart from that, it was the training program for the new SCR researchers.

  Why they had been assigned her was beyond all understanding, but she knew better than to question matters on another department’s policy. On that front, her official reassignment to a trainer for SCR had yet to go through all the channels, so Odette was still unsure what that would mean for her contribution quota on the project site.

  She had been a little overwhelmed by the offer at first, as it seemed like it would take time away that could be used to improve her contributions in IDS, but something the Chief had said later that night made her reconsider.

  ‘Technology can harm just as much as it can help, yet its development is inevitable. Our morals as its designers shouldn’t factor into the exploration of it but the application.’

  It had struck a chord with Odette, who being early in her career had strong opinions about the morality of her work. From the first explanation of their work, SCR had seemed like a black company. That meaning it was exploitative of its laborers, had unethical conduct standards, and produced a line of cheap and dubious products.

  That was the belief Odette had held for over four years, until it was shaken when the Chief had visited her tent late last night.

  “Our job as scientists is not to question our processes or withhold the findings. We create, then inform others on how to use them for humanity’s benefit. We do not unduly influence the environment. Technology is a tool, not a disease to be contained.”

  Odette pondered aloud what she had heard between the Madam’s puffs of smoke.

  It was strangely poetic considering its source, but it wasn’t like her beliefs had suddenly reversed. Odette still hated the thought of making weapons and was uncomfortable around SCR’s machines. But somehow she was beginning to understand the nuance of the Chief’s argument.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  ‘Am I that impressionable? When that woman first arrived she had looked like a corporate slave master, but now I think I’m beginning to understand her.’

  Would she have felt this resonance if the Professor had said the same thing? Actually, perhaps so. Odette realized.

  She wasn’t feeling kinship with Bechdel personally, but an attraction toward the message. The woman still slightly revolted her with what she represented and the history they shared, but her point about technology being morally transparent struck an old chord.

  ‘Ah, now I understand why. It's how I thought in the academy before the advisory program.’

  …

  Two days later.

  “Alright, pack it up! Performance was much better today.”

  Several faces poked up from behind machines. They were tired and greased with sweat, but otherwise shone with satisfied expressions.

  “Thank you Madam Veron.”

  “Thank you Madam!”

  “Sure sure. Now everyone get out of here!”

  Odette had a slight grin as she waved them out while organizing the day’s documents. Despite only being in her late twenties, she felt like she had transformed from a researcher to school teacher over the past three days.

  But thanks to the satisfaction of watching her efforts improve the team’s skill, it wasn’t too bad of a feeling. In fact she felt she was slowly growing more comfortable around the machines designed for manufacturing death, and definitely with the team members themselves. Though she still wouldn’t be caught dead operating one herself.

  “See you tomorrow, Madam Veron.”

  The same boy whose machine erupted in steam two days ago was the last to leave. He bowed with respect. Their corporate tradition, apparently.

  “Get some sleep, Tom.”

  Odette sent off the orange-haired boy before turning off the tent’s lights. It was still two hours to midnight, and in her mind she was picturing the project that awaited her back at her own tent.

  The Chief's words had spontaneously lit a fire under Odette, one she hadn’t truly felt the burn of in years. Over the past two days she had felt a desire to create, to innovate, like nothing before, and had worked manically on designing a specific project in her hours off the job.

  Since it was unrelated to the camp’s mission, she had avoided mentioning it to anyone yet, but sooner or later she would need to request resources from the supply tent in order to build it. After all, Odette wasn’t the type to dabble in theory without practicing it. When that time came, she planned to justify it by saying it was something like a new analyzer for the specimen, which wasn’t totally untrue.

  For as much shit as she had taken on this assignment so far, she figured she wouldn’t lose any sleep at night if the camp spent a little extra on her. It’s not like she’d be stealing, anyway.

  But just as she was getting excited about leaving, a shadow cast from the other side of the tent’s flap stopped her in her tracks. She paused as two figures made their way inside.

  “Researcher Veron. Glad we caught you.”

  Odette’s expression lost its energy, reverting back to a neutral respect. She greeted her superiors, who were both technically her boss now, with a calm tone.

  “Head Researcher and Madam Chief, what can I do for you?”

  Caleb wordlessly handed her a black binder which she accepted after putting her own papers down. Affirming she was meant to open it with a silent gesture, she read the first page before inwardly feeling perplexed.

  “I don’t recognize these names?”

  “That’s expected. They’re new hires of SCR, from the corporate side. They’re due to arrive here at 0600, and I think it’d be lovely if you gave them an outline of the projects we’re working on.”

  Odette’s brow furrowed. She read through the names again.

  “There’s nearly twenty people on this list? I don’t think this is a job for just one person, is it?”

  She already had her hands full with the training program, she wanted to say. But the voice of Caleb interrupted her.

  “You won’t be alone, Researcher Veron. We’re just on our way to inform Jason and Tom that they’ll be joining you as tour guides. I wouldn’t worry about interrupting the training schedule either, as they’ll only be here for one or two days at the most.”

  “That…will still set the training back a bit. Madam Chief, is this really a priority?”

  Bechdel waved her hand.

  “Of course. Since the specimen’s location is already an open secret, the Republic might as well start looking for buyers. The government can hardly monopolize a resource well of this size, anyway. I made the recommendation of SCR first, but there will surely be more to come.”

  Odette was quite shocked at that, especially after hearing Bechdel’s previous speech on the nature of their work. Odette had problems with using the corpse for weapons, yes, but she conceded that in some respects weapons could also be used for defense or as deterrence. That was where the argument of moral applications lay.

  But to directly sell the rights of development to a third party, especially a privatized militant group under the near non-existent oversight of the Republic’s laws for corporations?

  That didn’t conform to any moral argument, only profits. Once again, Odette was shocked by her own surprise. How many more times would she be stunned by people turning out to be different than their professed values?

  How many colleagues of hers were hypocrites?

  “Think of it as an opportunity to rub shoulders with the private sector. You never know, the economy is volatile these days. There might come a time when you need a job outside of the government.”

  ‘If I ever do, it damn well won’t be in this country.’