“To summarise your points, Aldrich, what you want from our currency is to passively promote beneficial behaviours, ease of use and comprehension, control, influence, and stability. You require it to be energy based. So long as these factors are maintained, you are unbothered in how it is executed. Is this correct?”

“It is. Also, I want to keep the name. Calling a ration credit a byte is hilarious, especially when your account balance is stored digitally.”

“Only for those who can speak and spell ancient Albish, but fine. The name can stay. Changing it yields no benefit and would only cause confusion.”

“I wouldn’t authorise any changes if someone attempted to alter it anyway.”

Brigid reaches up and pats my cheek, “Such a fierce tyrant. You really stand up for the important issues.”

I take Brigid’s hand and kiss it, “Someone has to defend the noble art of Dad jokes in this awful galaxy. If I must be a champion, it will be for a cause I believe in.”

“So dramatic,” says Brigid. “The only change I wish to make is for bytes to become permanent. I agree that the stability of the currency will not be an issue, so long as control of energy generation is maintained and I acknowledge that this had to be tested. I see no reason to change to a purely fiat or alternate material currency, so ease of use and comprehension will remain.

“Control and influence should improve by making the currency permanent, increasing low level trade with external merchants, such as we will likely encounter at the Breaking Yards. Not everyone requires trades where the minimum value is a Sword-Class frigate, like SRC requires.”

I laugh.

Brigid smiles and continues, “That means we only require new ways of promoting desirable behaviours. We already have universal income, medical care, basic education, and housing: systems that are horribly over subscribed with the new influx of people. Still, it will balance back out in ten years or so. Despite our recent influx of penal regiments, the welfare provided by the Fleet prevents most life threatening issues from underwriting crime and corruption. I want to prepare in advance for the next influx of ships though.”

“Put a select committee on it and have them write up the proposal.”

“I have already done so. What we need right now is a way to incentivise people to invest in themselves. Let’s brainstorm Aldrich. You can start us off.”

“Way to put me on the spot, Love,” I chuckle.

“That’s what implants are for. They help maintain performance.”

I smirk, “Some parts of me are still all natural, I’ll have you know.”

“Of course they are, Dear.” Brigid squints at me, “Don’t even think about replacing my favourite toys.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Option one is: ‘Make it Shiny.’ We could steer away from the emphasis of hidden implants and make them a fashion accessory, rather than a private expression of faith. We could also create assembly kits and hobby magazines to drum up interest, as well as holovids and other media.

“Option two is subsidies. Removing the cost of studying high tier knowledge for specific technologies, or offering greater wages for areas we want to prioritise is good. We already do use wage manipulation, but further alterations are possible.”

Brigid nods along as I speak.

I continue, “I prefer wage manipulation to subsidies as it is more subtle and doesn’t dig away at the foundational beliefs of the Mechanicus. One’s worth is their knowledge and making too much of that free cheapens it. After that, I’m out of ideas. Brigid, do you have an option three?”

“Fashion is a temperamental beast,” says Brigid. “It would not pair well with the tenants of the Machine Cult, where repairs take precedent over replacements.”

I shake my head, “That is up to us. Fashion cycles do not have to be quick, though I do not fancy our chances at mass behavioural modification without significant research and investment.”

“Very well, we can certainly look into it. People already get custom implants from the boutique workshops within the promenades, but it is a small industry compared to the Fleet standard that most individuals choose.”

“Ah, so going with option A would require more space. That would be a substantial issue, considering how stuffed our vessels are right now.”

“Quite. I agree with your preference for wage manipulation over subsidies. What we can do however, is change the number of slots available for advanced education. Ensure more slots are available for genetor and cybernetics artisans and fewer slots for other areas. Such a decision could come back to haunt us if we mess it up though. As for option three, prizes are always good, like for excellent research. A little blatant, but it could pair well with holovids and vox shows. Fame is a fabulous motivator.”

I chuckle.

Brigid smiles, “Option four is privileges. Give more privileges for those who accrue more qualifications. We could even tie that into the Blessings and Castigations you wanted to finally start. Insisting that a person must do more than just work well for a rejuvenat treatment, but also acquire new skills and qualifications every thirty to forty years would fit well with Mechanicus beliefs. It would be unfortunate if the system accidentally promoted stagnation through age related cultural inertia and other issues longevity can lead to. We could even make it so that academic progress is the only way to acquire a rejuvenat treatment.”

“Perhaps not that far,” I say. “Blessings and Castigations requires one to invest a portion of their wages to be eligible, as if they were saving for retirement. Limiting the amount one can invest per year is enough. I don’t want money to influence the system beyond paying for itself. It is intended to be a privilege of the dedicated, not the wealthy. Master craftsmen should be rewarded for their dedication, not penalised for failing to branch out. I approve of choosing fame and privileges as a motivator for self-investment.”

Brigid says, “There is one last measure we can take if you want to promote spending, but it will take some set up, and perhaps a rethink in the distribution of political and literal power.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A state bank. Right now we have an ad hoc distribution service and central database. There are a lot of ways to implement a bank. You could have them purchase currency from you directly, or have them rent generator time to create currency, issue licences, and many other methods.

“You don’t actually have to own the power generation capacity. You only need to set and enforce standards. Once there is a bank, one that everyone must use, you can then set interest rates. Rates could even be negative, say minus zero point one percent, if you want another way to remove currency and discourage hoarding.”

“Well, I would insist on owning the bank. Practically, I don’t think the exact implementation matters so long as the state bank remains in the hands of the state. I don’t want there to be any chance of an external or internal force from ripping it away from me. Even if my ownership is enshrined in law, I don’t want there to be any way for a state bank to generate currency, legally or practically. Energy must come from me, or at the very least, our House. I own the ships and their genetoriums and that will not change, even if administrative power has been delegated.”

Brigid says, “A little heavy handed, but in this case, it benefits us directly, so I don’t see why not. So you approve of creating a bank, and not just running a payroll system, backed with a database and private exchange mechanism?”

“So long as you test it first.”

“Then there we have it,” says Brigid. “The moment my administrators have a little extra time, I’ll stick the new ideas into a HiveSim game and try everything we can. This won’t be a quick process, but to confirm, you also approve of changing bytes to a permanent currency?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Yes, I think you could get started sooner though. Perhaps we could have all new bytes issued at six years, rather than five, then increase it by one every year until we reach ten years. That will give plenty of time to run the simulations and adjust everyone's expectations for the upcoming change. If for some reason, the simulations show it will be a disaster, having the currency given a ten year lifespan won’t change too much and make it fit better with Blessings and Castigations and its cycle of production and sabbaticals.”

Brigid nods, “I have no objections. You can go back to stroking my hair now.”

“Glad to get the currency problem off your mind?” I resume stroking Brigid’s hair and she sighs.

“Yes. Thank you for hearing me out.”

“No problem. I’m not one to discard the advice of my carefully cultivated experts.”

“This rose has thorns, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on plants too now? I modified that flower so it wouldn’t have any. Much safer for me. Especially with your head lying on my crotch.”

Brigid laughs, “Bed time?”

“Ah, before I forget, there is one big shock I can’t delay.”

“Alright, lay it on me.”

“Quaani has gotten engaged and I’m meeting the parents of the bride tomorrow. Would you like to come?”

“What is this, a shotgun wedding?”, Brigid raises an eyebrow.

“More like seizing the moment. Navigators pass each other briefly.”

Brigid says, “I can’t come on such short notice.”

I explain the likely exchange of visits and Quaani’s request to foster the girl.

“Well, it’s not like she will be living with us,” says Brigid, “or it will interfere with how we spend our time. The way I see it, Aldrich, is this is just another task for your long list of things you do every day. One of the few that requires your physical presence.

“I will be polite to the girl, but don’t expect much more out of me than that. Maybe one day we will be best friends, but I have neither the time nor headspace to invest my emotions into Quaani’s sudden relationship. This is his pickle, and while I have no issue with you helping him with it, my relationship with Quaani is much weaker than yours. What little time I have is for the children we already have, and no one else's. I do not anticipate this changing anytime soon.”

“So that’s why you filled the kids' rooms up with treasures.”

Brigid frowns, “Treasures can be moved and we have plenty of people and Servitors to perform tasks for us if we wish. I thought it would be fun to feel like a real Rogue Trader dynasty. Yes, I know that we are one, but it is not a mindset I am acclimated to, nor naturally drift towards. The treasures are there to make the change in our lives feel more real for me.

“There is no additional meaning to removing the space where children are raised and cared for. I am aware that we need more and have no intention of falling behind in my duties. Though perhaps two at a time next time? Four was a bit much.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was a bit worried when I first saw you had moved everything out. Two is plenty and a sensible way to go about it.”

“Never fear, Aldrich. I am well aware of your priorities and desires. Our goals still align and will tell you if that changes. Relationship drama is beneath us.”

“I approve of your optimism.”

“Of course. You like everything I do. I am a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus. It’s calculated that way.”

I laugh, “You still have Aldrich.exe running?”

“I update him regularly. Failure is so last millennia.”

Leaning down to kiss Brigid I say, “Now we can go to bed.”

“See? That’s how you keep a one hundred percent completion rating in a dating simulator.”

“I am in awe of your skills.”

Brigid stands up, then picks me up with ease and carries me towards the bedroom.

“Brigid!”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Cult Mechanicus doctrine does not account for gender, only that cogs must be well oiled when meshing.”

“Excellent, I’d love a massage.”

“Your artificial muscles get absolutely no benefit from them.”

“So? They still feel great.”

“It would be inefficient.”

“What does Aldrich.exe have to say about that?”

Brigid grins, “Fine, you can have a massage. So long as I get one too.”

“Absolutely.”

The rest of my evening is absolutely fabulous.

The next day, ‘Inquisitor’ Raphael Horthstien greets us in the hangar of his Enforcer-Class light cruiser. He is in full navy regalia, with an armoured, double breasted navy jacket with white lapels, gold trim, and a high, stiff collar that almost looks like a gorget.

The detailing on the jacket is exquisite, with large, gold and white cuffs and pauldrons. Multiple pouches hang from a wide belt and thick brown gloves cover his hands. Multiple medals are pinned to his chest. A round stiff cap with a high, pointed peak perches on his head, decorated with the Imperial Navy insignia.

Two squads of Tempestus Scions in black void armour, and six Ogryns wearing thick flak vests black trousers, and armoured boots, form two lines, with Raphael waiting at the end of the column, ten metres from the end of our ramp.

Raphael calls out as we descend from our shuttle, “Welcome to the Petitor Veritas, Magos Issengrund and Navigator Quaani.”

“Thank you for the warm reception, Commodore Horthstien.” I say, “I was not quite sure what to expect.”

Raphael smirks, “Oh, I’m no longer an Inquisitor?”

A mechadendrite points at the rows of disciplined troops, “I do not know how much your crew knows and have no desire to be the one to give away the secret while in public.”

“And here I thought you were beyond subtly, Magos.”

“We all have our flaws, Commodore Horthstien.”

Raphael's eyes narrow, “Indeed. Still, I must thank you. Your little show did actually get me a promotion. No one on the ship could reprogram the rosette you gave me, nor the one you returned to Inquisitor Hamiz. Our Enginseer Prime, Talliel-Iota-5, nor the Magos Biologis in Inquisitor Lyre Hamiz’s retinue, JK-404, know how to fashion a replacement. Both would like to talk to you, should you have the time. Inquisitor Hamiz is furious that he must apply for a new one, let alone waste time picking it up, should you refuse to assist.”

“He brought his woes upon himself.” I shake my head. “Never mind that. Congratulations on your promotion, Inquisitor Horthstien. I would be happy to converse with my fellow Tech-Priests. There will be plenty of time over the next seven days.”

“Thank you. Go easy on them, if you would. Not everything is a suitable topic.”

“I can’t read your mind, Inquisitor. Send me a list of proscribed topics if you want me to avoid something specific.”

Well, that’s not quite true, between my implants and psychic powers I can get pretty damn close to reading minds if I want to.

“That would rather defeat the point, don’t you think?”

I laugh, “I’m not going to shout the names of the Ruinous Powers from the top of the spire, or provide a step by step explanation of how to replicate xenos technologies, Inquisitor.”

“That isn’t something to joke about, Magos. You aren’t implying you could actually do those things are you?”

“Of course not, but I will point out that the primary Machine-Spirit of your vessel is quite irate and already talking to me. The psyker fueling your gellar field is about to expire and that you don’t have any replacements. You also have genestealers aboard and not all of them are cut up and labelled in little boxes. Also, if your pet Vanus Assassin doesn’t stop poking at my noosphere connections they will suffer an inconvenient malfunction.”

“They’re a Cybertheurgist, not a Vanus. The Officio Assassinorum is definitely on the list of proscribed topics. That you know, and don’t seem to care whether the Inquisition is informed or not, does not paint you in a good light. I can see I will need that list after all.”

“If you say so. Hmm, too late. Your little hacker is panicking. I’ve disabled the self-destruct protocol she triggered and put her to sleep; she was reaching for her gun once the protocol failed. Do give her my compliments when she wakes up. She is most talented and I would hate to see all that skill lost. If she wants her data-djinns back she can apologise to my face. I was able to confirm that this was a self-directed action of hers and not on your orders. Perhaps a little easing up on the psycho-conditioning would be healthy? ‘Miss Vanus’,” I make quotation marks with my mechadendrites, “was most unhinged and irrational. That was the most spectacular rage quit I’ve ever witnessed.”

“I can see this is going to be a trying state visit. Please do not poke at our secrets.”

I say, “Oh, I think the visit is going rather well. Sergeant Odhran hasn’t thrown his knife at anyone yet, and no one is shooting at me, so we’re doing better than usual. Would you please show us to the lucky lady and her family?”

“That would be for the best.”

“I won’t tinker with any of your systems,” I say, “so long as they don’t try to tinker with me. Among the Mechanicus, that would be terrible etiquette, like visiting someone’s house and going through the draws in their bedroom, or performing an unnecessary medical examination on their pet cat. Some people just don’t get it though. You really have to spell it out for them.”