Chapter 3: Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics

Bradbury Canal, October 8, 2131
Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics
Harrison and Laurel Scarlett’s Lab

“You are not going to bring those kids into my house!” shrieked Tammy.

“They are my responsibility and it’s my house,” snapped Ray into the telephone. “We will be there as soon as we can get on a train. When we get there I expect you to be warm and caring until they head off to college. If you cannot do that, get the fuck out.”

“No! Not in my house!” Tammy shrieked.

“It’s not your house,” Ray repeated. “That house belongs to Convair Intergalactic Technology and is leased to me. If you don’t like it, go back to earth, there’s a passenger shuttle shoving off twice a week.”

“How dare you!” she snarled.

“I’m giving you a choice, be nice or be gone. Pick one.” He hung up. Ray knew that there was no way Tammy could be nice to anyone that wasn’t going to buy her a drink, and her daughter Sheila was just as bad. He honestly didn’t care where she’s going to as long as she takes her whining ass and her slut daughter away. Letting that woman move in was the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life and he’s going to be sure to never repeat it. The moment she moved in, she got what she wanted, a luxury apartment, and the sex became rare and cold. Luckily, Mars still had a severe shortage of men, so an occasional “arrangement” was easy to find. Ray was sure she would be packing because being nice wasn’t something she’s ever been good at.

He headed over to Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics, where Laurel and Harrison worked as xenobiologists, studying fossilized viruses. The campus was heavily guarded, and it had a look of anger about it. He stepped up to the Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics reception kiosk. They didn’t even have a person there. He typed his name in and under occupation he entered “President of Mars.” For the address he put “The Red House.” For reason for visit, he put “State Funeral” and sure enough, that brought a human being out to see him.

Ray had to use the word “Human Being” to describe the security guard because he’s never actually seen a gorilla. He knew they existed, and he knew they were big, but so was that hulking mountain of flesh that was glaring down at him.

“Mister Clark,” groaned the security guard. “President of Mars?”

“Prove me wrong,” said Ray.

“You are not the President of Mars.”

“Give it time big fella,” said Ray, just praying that this guy would take a swing at him. “No need to salute.”

The security guard scanned his ID badge and looked at his scanning device. “It says you’re a propulsion engineer at Convair Intergalactic.”

“Rockets are my hobby.”

“It says you’ve been arrested for assault several times.”

“Pugilistic expression is my art form of choice.”

“Maybe you’d like to go to the gym and go a few rounds Mister Clark.” The guard said Mister like it was a filthy word, like only people with a Ph.D. were worthy of his time.

“Would that make you happy?” said Ray, as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Why are you here, Mister Clark?”

“I need to speak to Human Resources,” said Ray.

“Follow me.” And the man-mountain led Ray into the Interior of the Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics campus. All the while he led Ray, Ray kept checking to see if the security guard used his knuckles to help him walk. They finally reached the HR office, which was manned by a middle-aged woman who had the sour look of a person who hadn’t taken a good dump since high school.

“How can I help you?” the gray-haired woman said in a voice that used the nose more than the mouth.

“Fire this ape,” said Ray as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the man-mountain that hulked over him from behind.

“Why should I do that?” said the pinch faced woman through her nose.

“I come here to collect my dead sister’s effects and he threatened to beat me up even before he asked me why I was here.” He took a recording device out of his pocket and set it on her desk and hit play.

She could hear Ray say, “Expression is my art form of choice.” And she saw the guard glaring down at the camera on the small screen.

“Maybe you’d like to go to the gym and go a few rounds Mister Clark?”

“Would that make you happy?”

“Why are you here Mister Clark?

Ray hit pause and said, “Is that how Marconi-Edison Bio-Electronics treats the grieving survivors of the worst blowout in Martian history?” Ray nearly shouted. “We send some demented ape out to beat them to a pulp? I demand to see the president of this company!”