Page 6 of Ezra
And definitely packing a different kind of weaponry beneath their loincloths.
Holo-technology is a beautiful thing, so versatile in every aspect. Not only is it built into our phones so we have the option of 3D imagery when we FaceCall, it’s replaced paper and plastic bags, about half of our cardboard use, and is now featured in every New Carnegie classroom. It’s allowed the museum to do away with lifeless wax figures in every case that look more like caricatures than people. The days of those musty,old, sometimes plastic-like smells wafting through museum corridors are long over. Our exhibits are all natural. Every plant, every vine, is an actual living, breathing thing, giving way to fresh, clean air. When you step into the Pleistocene exhibit, you not only smell what it’s like to be lost in an ancient forest or wander the plains of the Ice Age with mammoths and cave bears; you see and hear it. All brought to life in front of you, like a movie you can participate in.
The drawback? I get to stare at these beautiful ancient humans—actors, really, paid to play the part—and wonder why I can’t find myself a rugged man like that. No such luck.
It’s fine. I’ll just die a virgin.
“Hey, look, it’s my fictional boyfriend.”
Zoey Meyer, one of the full-time tour guides, adjusts her uniform tie as she walks in from the Hall of Bulls—an exact replica built right into the ceiling of the ancient human paintings of Lascaux, another one of my favorite things about this place. She motions to one of the hunter projections, a strong man with powerful arms thrusting his spear up with his clansmen as they attempt to bring down a mammoth calf. I must’ve seen this a thousand times now; it plays in a loop so all visitors can experience history and what might have been.
“Don’t you have a real one?” I tease.
“Yes, but Bridger refuses to dress in a loincloth and furs for me,” Zoey laments. “Ugh, they just don’t make men like this anymore, do they?”
“That’s what I was thinking.” I chuckle as Zoey admires the backside of one hunter in particular. “But I’m fairly sure they exist. They’re just in places I’m not, like gyms.”
“And coffee shops, and bars, and clubs,” Zoey adds with a soft giggle, fluffing her pink hair. She’s a pale, freckled, petite little thing, freshly graduated from college. She’s doing the same thing I did while pursuing my degree—working as a tour guide.Now, I’m a museum specialist, tasked with setting up exhibits and handling precious artifacts and fossils when they need to be moved, stored, or sent to another museum. “Maybe hiking trails.”
“I wouldn’t mind meeting them on a trail,” I admit. “But I haven’t had much time for hiking.”
“Girl, we need to get you back your social life. I’m not hiking anywhere, but I’m going out with some friends tonight to the Starlit Sapphire,” Zoey says. “You’re welcome to come, if you like.”
“How are you getting into the Starlit Sapphire?” I ask, arching a brow. “Isn’t that place pretty exclusive?”
Zoey smiles impishly. “I have my connections.”
I’m not much of a club girl. “Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll pass. I like my sleep.”
“Are you serious?”
“Ask anyone. I’m a total bummer at parties. I start yawning up a storm by nine thirty. I’ve got a grandma bedtime.”
“Grandma bedtime,” Zoey teases me. “What are you, twenty-two?”
“Going on twenty-six. I’m an old lady now, what can I say.” I’m lucky some of the other employees can’t hear me. Some of my favorite people to work with are decades older than me. They’d smack the daylights out of me for saying that, and I’d deserve it. If I wasn’t joking, anyway.
We open in a few minutes, and the museum director, Arnold Vaughn, is busy in a meeting with the curator, Diana Beaumont. The meeting is about me specifically, which is why I can’t keep still. Diana is my favorite person in the world; I couldn’t ask for a better boss. She and Vaughn are both great. They’re the reason for the signs up near the museum entrance stating the museum is a proud human-only employer. They won’t tolerate or even consider the thought of androids replacing the positions here.
It’s a big deal for me, and one of the reasons I’ve been so loyal to this place. The city is filled with strife; jobless, angry people with no way to provide for their families. I’m lucky to be working in such a specialized field that I can’t be replaced. Not that I think anyone can or should be replaceable. It’s why I continue to stand up for my dad’s cause, Humanity First.
The real reason I don’t have a boyfriend.
Between my work, studies, determining where I’ll go to school for my PhD, and the extra time I spend speaking at universities, public schools, and events about the greediness of New Carnegie’s many mega-corporations, I have zero time for romance. Maybe that’s okay right now. Looking back, there wasn’t a single guy I went to school with who made me even think about it. Not that there weren’t any good men; they just weren’t for me.
That’s fine. I’ll just daydream about these Ice Age cavemen with their rippling pectorals and their strong, sturdy limbs. Now those guys never skipped leg day.
“I’m going to see if the doors have been unlocked,” Zoey says, content with her appearance. “I’m excited. There’s a busload of kids coming in this afternoon from New Carnegie West Elementary. Kids are always fun.”
I check my phone. No messages. I frown; my dad should’ve called or texted by now. He was supposed to meet me here, then we were supposed to go to lunch and discuss a big upcoming event he wants me to attend with him as a Humanity First advocate. But there’s nothing.
Well, he is busy these days. Can’t exactly blame him after what happened at the march last year. You don’t get over a scene like that. Ever. He’s been in overdrive ever since, even meeting with some members from the pro-bionic movement to decry TerraPura, one of the worst organizations we’ve seen emerge.
Androids. It’s always about androids. Life would be so much simpler if old Schroeder just hadn’t pushed the envelope. Everything could’ve been okay if the robots never entered the workplace en masse. It wouldn’t be perfect, not by a long shot. But there’d be people employed who never should’ve been fired. People alive who shouldn’t have died.
My mind wanders to the curator’s meeting, wondering if it’s over. Diana is going to be taking time off work soon and seeing as we’re a little short-staffed and there’s no assistant curator, it means the job could fall to me. But I’m new, so I understand why they might be hesitant. After getting my master’s degree, I’m already searching for the right school that’ll fit my dream career. It’ll be school, school, and more school for me until I get that sparkly archeology PhD.
Then I can get out of the US. I can go to France, Germany, or Spain. I can study ancient human remains in what was once their natural habitat. I can see Lascaux for myself—what’s left of it—and maybe even Chauvet Cave once I’ve made a name for myself as an expert. Barely anyone gets to go into Chauvet and see those paintings with their own eyes.
