"Can you tell me what this is Mister Meats?" Rittula Staint demanded, fanning a set of pictures out on her desk in front of him. Meats cocked his head to the side and inspected the photos with false interest. He knew he wasn't responsible, he just liked to make Staint squirm.

Meats used to have a bit of a thing for the way her jaw cocked to the side when she was done with his shit. She had differing variations of it depending on what shit she was done with. Personally he preferred the left side version, this being an indication of her mild annoyance with Meats disregard for the value of money.

"Well, uh, looks like broken cases there boss." Meats answered, taking his hat off and scratching his scalp while he turned one of the photos over, inspecting each grainy pixel. They were broken cases, and he truly didn't know why they were, but that never stopped Staint from assuming he did.

"Yes, I know that. Can you tell me how they ended up in that state?" Staint asked, drumming her fingers on her faux wood desk. Meats shrugged.

"Well, uh, boss, when the boxes fall they are subject to newtons first law of iner-" Meats began sarcastically before Staint cut him off.

"Yes Mister Meats, as they are when they are still upon the racks. An object at rest will stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force. Mister Meats, the question I want answered is; what force acted upon them while at rest to change that?" Staint replied curtly. She gave him one of those evil little smiles that let Meats know he wasn't going to get away from this.

"Well, I uh... Hell I don't know. Rittula, check the cameras if you want to know that. I just work on the racks and the forkers. If there was any problem with those the system should have sent us an alert." Meats answered reluctantly. As far as he knew things were functioning as they should on his end.

"I have. Why do you think I know about them in the first place? It's not like anyone in this building trusts or likes me enough to just tell me what's going on. Seeing as that includes you I have to ask, which one are you?" Staint explained, becoming a little deflated.

Meats didn't have to think about his answer much. He knew he didn't like Rittula, at least not any more. On the other hand he couldn't deny that he trusted her, if only due to her cut and dry personality and lack of imagination. Even if she accused him of causing problems more often than not, he had to admit it came from her dedication to the job.

"I don't like you. I trust you, as hard as that is to believe, but I don't like you. I know you want to make sure your ass is covered boss. That I can depend on, but the way things were before? Never going to happen again." Meats answered, standing up and pulling his overall straps back over his shoulders.

"I... Thank you for your honesty, Arnold. I appreciate that you trust me. And, you know you don't have to call me boss, right?" Rittula said, her expression softening. Meats looked out the window of her office, watching pallets move about in the frigid air. She hadn't called him Arnold in years.

"I know. But I do it anyway to remind myself. No sense in forgetting." Arnold said, walking towards the door. He paused as his hand closed around the knob.

"You need anything else from me?" Meats asked, glancing back towards the desk. Rittula was staring at an old photo hanging on the wall. Meats decided he didn't want to look at it himself.

"No, Mister Meats. Thank you for your time. Can you send Siobhan in here after you? She should be waiting in the hall." Staint asked, putting on her sad little smile as she looked at him.

"No problem, boss." Meats answered as he shut the door behind him. He sighed. She knew why he called her boss. Meats looked up at Siobhan sitting awkwardly in the small chair outside of Staints office.

"My turn. No yelling this time. She's in a better mood?" Siobhan asked hopefully.

"Wouldn't bet on it. Have fun." Meats replied, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. It didn't work. It never worked anymore.

Listening to Siobhan carefully slip into Staints office, Meats began making his way down the stairs. After all of that he needed a cigarette. The northern maintenance walkway was nice and breezy this time of night. Perhaps he could sneak one in without having to go on break while Staint was distracted.

As Meats puffed on his discount cigarette, he looked out over the numerous warehouses and shipping yards that dotted the Boris-Valka industrial district. Its official name was Harlan Park but nobody had called it that in ages. The blazing bright lights of the city made a sort of artificial sun that never quite dimmed.

Meats liked living out here. The truth was that even if he only made three thousand credits a month he could still live relatively well compared to living anywhere near the city center. He had grown up in the city, but he had found his place in the sticks. Meats took another drag off of his Lesters 100.

"Just six more weeks. Six more weeks and I never have to see the inside of a freezer again." He said aloud to himself. It was almost like if he said it enough it would actually come true. It wasn't like he really needed to, it was already a done deal.

He'd actually gone for it and over the last two years he'd managed to get his pilots license. It hadn't been easy, or cheap, but it would be worth it. He'd put his life savings into a little 4 ton AV and a trailer, and in six weeks his insurance would be active. For the first time in his life the world, specifically the parts revolving around hauling small amounts of freight, would be his oyster.

It had only taken him fourteen years without a vacation, but here he was, weeks away from his dream. He'd even spent an extra few months getting his interplanetary certification. Soon enough he would be hauling ass through the cosmos, or at least hauling ass through the city. He didn't exactly care which.

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For a moment, as Meats looked out over the landscape he couldn't wait to watch fly by him, a sliver of doubt worked its way into his mind. It was small, not some big insecurity that plagued him every day. Just two words.

"Why though?" He murmured under his breath. That was the question wasn't it? He was nearly thirty four. He didn't have much in the way of a family to take care of at the moment, nor was he planning for it anymore. The only person he really had was himself.

So, well, why then? Was it just so his life could be slightly better for a few more years until he wasted away? Not really, but it was his best guess at the moment. Maybe he just wanted to get away.

Meats turned to look through one of the few windows into the facility. Did he want to get away from this? He'd been here for so long he didn't really know. Meats eyes settled on the light emanating from the window of Rittulas office.

'Maybe I just want to get away from her. Leave all of this far behind me.' He thought, letting his eyes settle on a stray box sitting on the concrete. As he turned away again to once more contemplate his future, something out of the corner of his eye moved.

It was the box, now apparently sitting politely still on the concrete. He could swear it had been moving. Meats stared at the case, just long enough to be sure it was never going to move, and then... it twitched!

Meats flinched so hard he nearly went over the railing. The box seemed to be getting further under the racks and into the darkness with each blink. Meats stared wide eyed, waiting for the box to move again. This was probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in months.

Suddenly burning pain shot up from his fingers. He shook his hand, dropping what remained of his cigarette. It had burned down while he wasn't looking and reached his fingers.

Meats remembered the box, immediately turning his attention back to the warehouse floor. It was gone. He rubbed his eyes, sure that he hadn't been hallucinating. There was still no sign of the stray box when he looked back.

"I'm not crazy, I'm just bored. Looking for problems where there are none. Just make it six more weeks. Six more weeks and I wont ever have to think about this place or fucking hoags again." Meats reasoned, putting his jacket back on and entering the door back to the warehouse.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The rest of the night had gone like any other. Meats had replaced a few sensor eyes, cleaned a rail or two and then clocked out like usual. His walk home had been long, but when wasn't it? As Meats pulled open his door he was greeted by his home organizational VI.

"Hello Arnold, how was your day?" It asked, bringing the lights on throughout the apartment. Arnold slipped off his boots and sat in his minuscule foyer.

"Uhhh... Kind of shit, really." He answered, sighing as he slumped over and laid down flat on the floor. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before sliding himself further into the hall with his legs.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like to see what's trending on Valtube?" The VI asked. The little eye embedded in the ceiling that it collected data through swiveled around to look at him, still sliding himself down the corridor.

"No, no need for that. Could you go into companion mode for me?" Arnold asked, sliding himself around a doorway and into his living room. He felt the linoleum change into thinning carpet. Rolling onto his stomach, Arnold let his forehead rest on the crimson fibers of his living room floor.

Staring into the rows of threads, Arnold felt something cold and metallic rest itself on the back of his head. He lifted his hand up and patted the half exposed aluminium snout of the only companion he felt he truly had. He rolled over again onto his back.

"Thanks bud. You're a very good boy." Arnold said, pulling the medium sized canine droid close to his chest. Tully had been his dog for as long as he could remember. So long in fact that he'd had him re-skinned twice now, and he was due for another. His frame was showing in most places, especially spots like his face and his ears.

Tully was everything to him. He was his house, his dog, his only friend outside of work. He was one of the few things Arnold had gotten in the divorce. He was also one of the few things he was going to take with him when he traveled. It was gonna be great, just him, Tully, and the stars.

"You ready to see the stars bud? Just a few more weeks and we'll be up there most of the time." Arnold said, holding the warmth of Tullys battery pack against his ribs. Tullys tail thumped the floor a few times in agreement.

Arnold looked down. It was astonishing how a dog made of metal could feel so soft. Tully was looking up at him with his ocular sensors, fitted with big glassy hazel eyes. It was a shame he could see the wires and hear the servos whirring behind them.

"First thing I gotta do is get you re-skinned. Can't impress the ladies on Etrius Junction with you looking like a horror show. So, what do you wanna be? You were a Manchester terrier last time." Arnold asked, pulling his hand away from Tullys neck. Short brown hairs were stuck to his fingers.

"I want to be a Malamute." Tully said, opening his mouth to let the sound out of the speaker in his throat. The television flicked on, an image of a rather long haired and fluffy malamute already on the screen.

"We might be able to work that out. Any other ones in case they don't have it?" Arnold asked, ruffling Tullys ears about.

"Corgi?" Tully asked, switching the image on screen to a short corgi with an extremely old woman in a pink suit. Arnold thought the image looked familiar for a moment but he couldn't tell from where.

"Well, I'd have to find a conversion kit for your legs, and maybe shorten up your frame a bit, but I think we could work something out. Plus you'd be smaller and that means more room for activities in the AV." Arnold contemplated, pulling himself up and leaning his back against his singular recliner. Tully shuffled in between his legs and sat, both watching the television.

"So, which one do you like more? Malamute or Corgi?" Arnold asked, resting his chin on the top of Tullys head. The image on the T.V. switched back and forth a few times.

"Which one would be cheaper?" Tully asked, tilting his head back. Arnold thought for a moment.

"You don't need to think about that bud. I'll take care of it either way." Arnold reassured him, holding up Tullys paws and waving them about. Again the images flicked back and forth.

"Both?" Tully barked. Arnold ran a couple of ideas through his head.

"Well, we could either get a Corgi skin and try to make it taller and longer, or get the conversion kit and make the Malamute skin fit it. You could be a miniature Malamute." Arnold suggested, trying not to think about the logistics of it.

"Miniature Malamute." Tully replied, his tail whipping Arnolds legs painfully.

"Alright! Alright! Ow! Miniature Malamute it is. We'll figure it out, yeah?" Arnold said, quickly using is hands to shield the important bits.

"Yeah!" Tully barked, hopping to his feet and excitedly jumping around the sparsely furnished room. Arnold couldn't help but grin. He knew Tully was a VI, but he was his VI.

He'd gotten him from his uncle when he was a kid, and with his help Tully had become more advanced with each year. He'd actually gotten much more doglike even with the added intelligence. Animals truly were amazing, even the artificial ones.