ginga megami tensei - act1chap2

act 1 chapter 2 - usual daze

    Sun's setting. Diner's closing for the night. Time to get home before Mom gets worried.
    With my notes and tools (and phone, of course) all safe in my backpack, I head out of the restruant. With everyone leaving for the night, there's only a few ships in the parking lot, most notably big guy Ragald's own Vadeswagon. Jeez, no wonder the place still uses gas grills; ship's as old as he looks.
    There's a small section for hoverbike parking. It's a relatively recent addition, considering the diner's age: apparently it got added after the place got more popular among the Thugs-4-Less crew. I've only seen the lizardy guys once since I started hanging at Ragald's; they're surprisingly sweet-toothed and well-behaved for a bunch of thugs.
    Sitting in the hoverbike lot is my trusty hoverscooter. You need a licence to ride a hoverbike, but I can't think of riding something so high-speed. Hoverscooters might be much slower, but they're safer and a lot less bulky than a hoverbike.
    I still get a bit antsy whenever I ride it, but at least it saves me from walking all over the city on foot, and I certainly feel safer than if I ever drove a ship.
    I don't own a ship of my own, let alone a licence for one. Even when I turned 18, I never took civilian piloting classes; the thought of flying a ship on my own terrified me back then. Even now, I still can't see myself piloting one of those things without crashing into traffic or getting sucked into a black hole or something.
    Thinking about it now is still pretty embarassing... I'm 24 and I still have to ask Mom if she can drive me every time I need to go off-planet. At least I have the hoverscooter whenever I want to go to the diner or library.
    I quickly snatch my helmet out from the scooter trunk before hopping on and strapping the thing to my head.
    Stick my keys in the ignition...
    ...
    And off we go.

    Have to keep my eyes on the walkway while riding. Even at a slow speed, I still need to keep my eyes out for anyone I might run into. Though, there doesn't seem to be anyone around today, outside of the occassional ships on the hyperways.
    Must be a work day for most people, I guess. Saves me worrying about running over some Megacorp drone or something.
    I glance over to the skyline. Silver City is always at its most beautiful during sundown; there's just enough light to see the silhouette of the buildings and skyscrapers, but it was close enough to night that you could see the glimmer of the stars. Boldan might be one of the busiest planets in the galaxy, but there's no factories spewing out smoke, no testing rockets waking people up in the middle of the night, and no marketing drones pestering people at their doorsteps. Well, for the most part, anyway.
    For all the good Megacorp's done, I'm still glad they haven't rubbed their mitts all over Silver City like they have every other capital in the galaxy. Damnit, I still can't believe they tore down the library on Notak just to build a mini-mall on top of it. I loved that place as a kid. At least they haven't got rid of the downtown library here...
    One of these days I really need to ask the mayor what kind of deal she's got with Megacorp. There's gotta be some reason Ragald's hasn't been replaced with another MegaBurger place at this point. Can't be just for heritage's sake; you'd have to bribe the CEO with a lot of bolts if you didn't want them knocking down anything.
    The scooter jolts a bit, nearly making me lose my grip on the handlebars.
    Agh, must've ran over a soda can when I wasn't looking. This is why I can't ever trust myself with piloting a ship. Even with nothing on the road, I can't let my mind wander for a second unless I want to end up in an interstellar traffic jam.
    At least I didn't smack into a street lamp this time...

    As I approach my home street, I slow down the scooter to a crawl.
    Amongst sparse rows of dome-roofed durasteel buildings is my house. Even at dusk, I can easily make out my place from everyone else's on our street. It's not so much a matter of looking at housing numbers as it is looking at the yard and building itself.
    The house itself is in great condition: two stories tall, and fairly big with a caramel paint job. In comparison, the front garden has seen better days. Most of the flowers were in great health, but half of the shrubs hugging the base of the building were overgrown, leaves pressing against the foundation. The rest of the bushes were withered from neglect, save for the occassional rain watering them.
    I know Mom's trying to work on improving our place, but she should really take better care of the front yard. It's kinda sad to look at.
    Overlooking the garden was the garage. I drag the scooter up to the door before fishing for the keys in my jacket. I draw them out, stick them in the lock, and lift up the garage door with a mighty swing.
    Inside, sitting alongside an assortment of maintenence tools and liquid canisters, is Mom's cruiser ship. Didn't think she'd be home so early on a weekend. Hope she isn't worried about me being gone for long.
    After parking the scooter in the back of the room, I snag my backpack out of its trunk. Nothing seems to have fallen out of it. Phone's intact, pencils and books are safe... All's good.
    I look around the den, then the kitchen. No sign of Mom anywhere. She working upstairs or something?
    "Hey, Mom? I'm home!" I call out.
    "Good evening, Halley!" a muffled voice responds from upstairs.
    Huh. What's she working on now? I mean, I've heard noises up on the second floor before, but I've always been cooped up in my room to really mind it.
    I drop my bag by the stairs before running up to the second floor.
    Haven't been upstairs too much. Last I remember, Mom was trying to turn the storage attic into a guest room. I thought she dropped the project years ago; there's still boxes of scrap and tools in the closet she was going to use for it. Bed frames, table parts, even stuff for a widescreen entertainment center. No matter how much everyone insists she hires a construction droid, Mom's insistent she works on everything in the house herself. Some would call it "lombax determination". I'd call it being stubborn and frugal.
    Hey, something I have in common with her, at least.
    I immediately notice her as I set foot in the attic, chocolate fur and cream-tipped ears almost obscured under a welding helmet. Laser pen in hand, she's working on some sort of... big generator?     Either a battery or generator, I can't tell. What's she doing this time?
    Mom turns off the pen before taking off her helmet, giving me a welcoming smile. "So how was Ragald's today?"
    "Same as usual." I shrug lightly. Aside from talking with that Cyphre guy, it might as well be have been the same as every other time I've been there.
    Mom smirks. "Did you bring me a galaxy tea?"
    I just grumble. I bring her tea from there once, and now she insists on wanting one every time I go to the diner.
    "You forgot again, didn't you?" she asks. "Maybe I should write it down for you next time?"
    "Nah, it's alright," I say, only a little annoyed. "Why're you home so early? I thought you'd be at the repair shop till midnight. Something happen?"
    "Everything's alright, Halley. Had a bit of an oversight today and our manager needs to order more parts."
    "Can't you just bring scrap from home?"
    "Ahh, I wish, but I can't use ship parts on a fridge." She laughs softly.
    Jeez, I didn't think working in mechanics would be that complex.
    "Speaking of which, how's your little box project coming along?" She stands, dusting soot off her smock.
    I shrug lightly. "Pretty good. Almost done building the thing."
    "Really now? That's what you told me last week."
    "I know, but I didn't expect to run into snags with setting up the internal circuitry. I gotta get thermaflux coils, memory boards, conducting gel--"
    "And you assume Max knows what any of those things are?" she interrupts. "If you need them that badly, you can order them online."
    I just groan. "Yeah, but they charge a ton for instant shipping, and I don't want to waste bolts on stuff I can get from Max."
    Mom just frowns. Not an angry frown, but a pensive one.
    "If it's going to be more than your allowance, I can give you some bolts to cover the shipping," she insists.
    "It's fine. Dad coming home tomorrow?"
    "Mhm. Should be home in the morning."
    "Alright. 'Cause I want to ask him if he can fly me over to Max's place."
    "Halley, I don't think Dad wants to make another several-million-mile trip to Barlow after a work day."
    "That's why I'm asking him. Like, I just wanna make sure, okay?"
    Mom sighs. "If you say so."
    "Alright. Gonna head downstairs. I'll catch you later." I make my way to the stairs.
    "Good night, Halley." She puts her welding helmet back on.
    I grab my pack again and make my way down to my room. The whirring of a laser pen from upstairs growing ever more fainter, the familiar noises of Markazian radio comedies replacing it as I tread down the stairs.
    Arriving in my room, I take off my jacket and toss it across onto my bed. Immediately I feel the chill of the basement air, a stark contrast to the summer humidity outside.
    My room might look like a shitshow, but at least it's comfy during this time of the year. Bed near the AC, shelves and books just above it, computer and radio just across from it all... I even managed to get a holovision display up with some extra shelf space for all my games and consoles.
    Definitely a weird bargain I had with Mom years back, but I've gotten a lot of extra space for all my stuff here compared to my old bedroom upstairs. On top of all that, it gave me more space and privacy to work on other major projects; there are some boxes set aside across from my "room", some with various parts for the telebox and other things, others with various machines and gadgets I tinkered with in the past. The rest were filled with clothes, old books, and toys, to name a few.
    I kick off my shoes and slip on a fresh t-shirt, one that wasn't damp with sweat. Figured I might as well look over the telebox again before I check up with Max.
    I've modified gadgets before, but this thing is my first time ever building something from scratch. Of course, that means it looks like a hunk of junk, even with help assembling it. At first glance, it looks more like a gutted vending machine patched together with scrap than a functioning teleporter. If the vending machine was also made entirely out of scrap.
    Yeah, I can't really pride myself on the chassis job.
    Internal wiring's a whole different story, though. Circuit boards are all organized, wires are sorted and bound with twisty-ties, each and every part that's used to make the thing work has been assembled with care. Even got a few spare fuel cells on standby to power the thing.
    I've mucked about with gadgets and computers for well over a decade, so I know the ins and outs of how to put together boards and processors and the like to make something functional. All I just need is a few more parts. Well, that and getting the teleport program alpha onboard. Among other things.
    Probably a good thing this is just a personal project and not something for a resume or the Megaconvention. I don't need people asking me why it looks like junk. Here's the thing: what you're looking at is just the casing for a bunch of parts that all work together. Doesn't matter how crappy it looks; if it functions like it should, that's all that matters in a machine. If it works right, that's all I care about. Presentation's just a bonus.
    I swipe my bag nearby and bring it close. I quickly shove my hand in, shoving papers and notebooks aside for only a moment before taking out my phone. I flip it open, quickly dial a familiar number, and hold the phone to my face.
    ...
    "'Eyo," a husky voice answers.
    "Hey, Max," I respond.
    "Oh hey, Hales!" his voice perks up. "How's it hanging?"
    "Not much. Just got back from Ragald's place. You busy tomorrow?"
    "Not really. Why?"
    "I need one last haul of parts for the telebox. Casing and framework's all stable, just need some more stuff for the circuitry and fuel routing."
    "I thought you got it working last time?"
    "Yeah, but the bike engine overheats easily."
    "That's because those things aren't really built for standing machines," Max laughs.
    "Look, I don't know machinery and engineering and all that crap!" I shout angrily.
    "Calm down, Hales. It's your first time doing this. Not gonna go smooth the first time around."
    I just grumble.
    "It's okay. Been guiding you through this for the past few months. You're gonna run into a few snags. Now, what kinda power cells you using?"
    I get up and shuffle through a box of fuel cells, looking over the casing.
    "Uh... Powerluxe Deluxe Fuel. Same stuff Mom uses for her cruiser."
    "Yeah, I think the engine might be the problem. Might have to swap it out with a different power unit."
    I groan. "You sure? It was a pain in the ass enough setting up the bike engine."
    "I can help. Besides, I think we can find something that's more compliant with Powerluxe fuel."
    "Alright. Thought thermaflux coils would migitate the whole overheating thing."
    "Ehhhh, you still might need those. Thermaflux always comes in handy with power units. Anything else you need?"
    "Uhh... gimme a bit..." I quickly snag my notebook out of my bag and look over part names.
    I write everything in plain Galactic Common and yet all these words read like another language to me. Now I see why Mom still writes down shopping lists whenever she goes shopping; I can't expect myself to remember all this.
    "Y'know, actually, I got a list of stuff I need jotted down in my notebook, I'll just bring that along," I say to Max.
    "And the schematics?"
    "Yup. Got that sketched down, too."
    "All right, 'coz that'll help a lot with polishing out this thing."
    "Hopefully. I really don't want to spend another month wondering what I hosed up this time."
    "First thing about practice is you're gonna run into hiccups with your first project."
    "I know, but I just really want this thing to work."
    Max chuckles on the other line.
    "Anyhow, I'll see if I can coax Dad into flying me over to Barlow tomorrow, okay?"
    "Got it. Catch you later?"
    "Yup."
    "Night, Halley."
    "Night, Max."
    With that, I flip the phone shut.
    Probably was a bit harsh, but I'm sure he knows I don't mean anything by it. I'm just annoyed building this box has been taking longer than I wanted. Lot of work just to make something to mount a teleporter program onto.
    Max is a good pal, and he knows more about building and fixing machines than I do. Sure, I've been keeping in touch with him with via phone and Starspeak, but I'm sure he'd appreciate me visiting in person. Besides, been a good while since I last went part-hunting with him.
    ... Man though, I hope I can get the telebox up and running soon. Better not take too long to get it working like I want it.