Page 30 of Mutant Mine

The Cavaliers are one of Earth’s biggest banking families. They’re at that level of dizzying, generational wealth where they’ve bought literally everything that it’s possible to buy. Jewelry, yachts, private islands; every shiny bit of tech, every ‘unique’ experience. At that point, you have to start getting imaginative.

“High status people need to live differently to everyone else — to prove that they’re superior, right?” I say. “Well, everyone has technology now. Everything is automated. So, for the very few elites who can afford it, everything is done byhand instead.”

“I do not understand.”

“Okay, so, an AI robot that cooks your dinners for you? No big deal, every millionaire has one. But affording a kitchen full of human staff, who spend hours every day cooking your meals from scratch, washing your dishes, serving at your table…That’sspecial.”

Now Roth’s frown has deepened.

“But the purpose of these technological advances was to save humans from avoidable physical labor.”

I snort. “You’re making the mistake of assuming that these people care.”

“And humans will perform every task worse than a purpose-made robot.”

“That’s not the point. It’s a status symbol. Those skills are rare now, and doing everything by hand takes way longer, so everything done that way has an inherently higher value.”

Roth shakes his head, as if physically shaking away the idiocy of this idea.

“And this is what you did? Cooking?”

“Among other things. We cleaned the house, lit the fires, tailored their clothes… You name a redundant skill, and I can probably do it.”

Redundant is the right word. These skills have turned out to be useless after I left the estate. In the real world, employers want to know what skills you haveusingtech, not avoiding it. They’re not impressed when you say that you can do the same thing as the machine, but a thousand times less efficiently.

A louddingannounces that Roth’s food is ready. He lifts the plate out of the Countercook, bringing with it a cloud of savory steam. It smells so good... I cross my arms tighter across my belly so that he can't hear it rumble.

Roth brings the plate to the table in the bedroom and sitsdown to eat. He’s neat and methodical, wielding the knife and fork delicately.

I crawl back into my corner, on the floor underneath the opposite end of the table. This way I can only see his legs and feet. He can’t see me at all.

After a while of eating, the only sounds the quiet clicks of the cutlery, Roth speaks again.

“You say you grew up on this estate. But you were working? As a child?”

The flush of shame is instinctive, even though part of me had wanted him to know. I stare at his boots as I say:

“I… My parents had debts to the bank. Debts they couldn’t pay. They sold me into debt bondage when I was seven. I worked, and my labor paid down their bill.”

Roth is quiet for a long moment before he answers.

“How long did it take you to earn your freedom?”

“Fifteen years,” I say. “I got out last year.”

“And you did not see your parents again?”

“I used to wait for them to come back for me,” I admit. “But not anymore.”

He hums low.

“It sounds…”

Harsh? Unfair? Like I’m not the naive little girl you thought I was?

“…Lonely.”

I blink.

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