Qubit's Incubator

Catalina took a packet from the freezer; ‘Barbeque Beef and Rice.’ She read the instructions.

“Seven minutes,” he said when the microwave dinged.

“It says ‘Five.’”

“It takes seven, Pissant.” He took his hot food and cold drink, then brushed past her. “And clean up after yourself.”

She watched him go to one of the cubicles.

Obnoxious Drone dick.

She set the timer for five minutes.

After taking a Snapple Straight Up Sweet Tea from the fridge, she sipped it while waiting for her lunch to heat.

The barbeque beef was barely warm after five minutes. She set the timer for two more minutes.

Rude Drone McGill. He could have been nice about it.

She returned to her desk, and while eating, she found an article on synthetic nerves.

As she read about an artificial nerve system developed for use with prosthetic devices, she clicked on the links to more research papers.

Her forgotten lunch grew cold as she studied tiny organic circuits printed on a person’s skin.

Thirty minutes later, she was startled when her phone chimed.

“No phones!” someone shouted from behind her.

She turned to see several people glaring at her. The old man made a cutting motion across his neck.

After clicking her phone onto ‘Airplane mode,’ she answered the call.

“Hey, Cat. How’s it going?” Marilyn, her roommate, asked.

“I’ll text you,” Catalina whispered.

“Why can’t you talk?” Marilyn whispered also.

“Just text.”

“Okay.”

‘I just pissed off all the Pissants again with the phone call,’ Catalina texted to Marilyn.

‘You can’t use your phone in that stupid place?’

‘Apparently not. Like everything else, I learn by being yelled at.’

‘So, you got in?’

‘Only for thirty days. If I produce something in that time, I might get to stay longer.’

‘At least you’re in.’

‘Right.’

‘I’m ordering pizza. Cecil, Mack, and Debbie are coming over. What time will you be home?’

‘Don’t wait up.’

‘You ordering in?’ Marilyn asked.

‘No, they have food here.’

‘All right. I’ll see you when I see you.’

‘KK.’

Catalina went back to her reading and found a post-grad student at MIT had used a 3-D printer to produce a human-like hand with synthetic nerves.

She was startled by someone standing beside her chair.

The redhead she’d seen in Victor’s office stood staring at Catalina’s computer.

Oh, God. Another obnoxious Drone.

“What’s up?” Catalina asked. The redhead’s dangling jade earrings held her attention.

“It’s five after four, Saylor.”

Catalina glanced at the lower right corner of her screen. “Yes, it is. Thank you.” She stared at the redhead.

“You have an appointment with Mr. Templeton.”

“Oh, crap!”

She scooted back and grabbed a notepad. The woman led her toward the door of Victor’s office, opened it, then went in ahead of Catalina.

“Miss Saylor.” Victor waved her to a chair in front of his desk.

The redhead took the chair next to her. She crossed her legs, adjusted her emerald green skirt, and positioned a note pad on her thigh.

“What do you think of this place so far?” he asked.

Catalina thought for a moment. “Hostility, rudeness, everyone is mean…” She glanced at the redhead. “Except for Joe.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy. Did you find everything you need?”