John followed. The manager’s office was essentially a single desk with a built-in holoscreen and hundreds of sheets of paper, stacked about the room... toppling from bins and file cabinets. The manager cleared off some rogue reports from his desk with a swipe of his, hand and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. John took it. ‘This is a courtesy,’ he said, ‘but we aren’t currently looking for menial labor. As you probably noticed, we gut our fish by machine. We have men here enough to. Did you just get home?"Richie stomped to a halt again and sighed. "No, I've been hidin' in the basement all day." Don't be a fucking wiseass, Richie, I'm not in the mood for it." Why? The job workin' ya too hard? That why you're home now?" Never mind why I'm home," Sandra snapped. "I told you, my work is none of your fucking business."Richie said nothing in reply. There was no point. Her mother knew better than to make further pretense anyway. She supposedly worked for a cleaning service.. More

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