Yeung-Sung found himself frozen; he was afraid of the woman in front of him.

He was afraid of acting awkwardly around her. He was scared that he wouldn’t know what to do with the stock in the backroom; afraid of making a bad impression in front the ex-popstar. Strange, as he had been facing life and death situations up until recently. But why am I so afraid?

Maybe it’s not her that I’m afraid of. Maybe I’m just afraid of meeting a real-life member of this colony -one who is happy living here? Which means, on some level, I have relaxed. I’ve been eased into accepting that this colony is a valid concept. Even if it’s just an experiment. In truth, Yeung-Sung realised he was afraid that he was wrong.

Woo-Yi volleyed a few words at him to get his attention, but they passed him by. Yeung-Sung avoided eye contact for the moment, glancing at the door frame which lay like a beached whale on the floor. She wasn’t the passive type, however. Pulling up the sleeves of her mauve cardigan she pressed into him, stretching her neck up. He would face her whether he liked it or not.

“Isn’t breaking glass bad luck?” he said.

Woo-Yi stretched around him to look at it. “It would’ve happened sooner or later.” Smiling, she added, “At least now the place can be aired out.”

Seeing that Yeung-Sung wasn’t convinced, she waved the topic away. “Who needs luck anyway? Outside there’s a global Depression and we’re here, opening up a grocery store because it’s something to do.”

“Just something to do?” Yeung-Seung exclaimed. As he was still a representative of the outside world, the words came as a slap to the face.

“Yeah, I mean, of course having a grocery store in the colony would be convenient, but we don’t need it. No one is actively crying about the lack of fresh produce -well, maybe a few are.” Woo-Yi looked at him like she expected an argument on that point.

“Wait. But you have food here, don’t you? You need to eat, unless-“ -That’s part of the experiment!

Yeung-Sung looked Woo-Yi over closely, identifying any tubes or parts of her body that seemed artificial. Her small frame poked out of her clothes. The shape of her legs came out over her sunflower skirt, the line of her collar bone showing through her cardigan. All of it looking normal to Yeung-Sung.

“Hey!” Woo-Yi called, shoving a hand in front his eyes. “What’s this now, did GLI let a pervert into the colony?”

Yeung-Sung blushed. “No- I thought that if you didn’t need to eat-“ he started, flustered.

“Well, I’m perfectly normal as you can see. I hope you got a good look”. Woo-Yi folded the sides of her cardigan in. After watching Yeung-Sung’s face get sufficiently crimson, she smiled. “Ha! Just kidding.”

“We get daily supplements,” she explained, brushing off the closest till counter and then sitting up on it, “And they’re really good…to keep you going.” Yeung-Sung vaguely remembered seeing a bar-like thing in his apartment before and nodded.

“But,” she continued,” they’re not the tastiest thing, and you get tired of looking at a brown brick every morning, I’ll admit.”

“That’s all you eat?” Yeung-Sung asked. He felt ill jut considering it.

Thankfully Woo-Yi shook her head, swinging her short legs in tandem. “No, we get some special orders every so often from the researchers. They do treat us pretty nice in here. Though sometimes I feel like a lab rat.”

She sighed. She began to play with her earring with a solemn, distant look on her face. “It’s a whole new world in here, with its own rules. Its almost as if the outside doesn’t exist; so I suggest you try and lose any connection with it.” She smirked. “Not that it should be that hard. As I said before, who needs luck in here? Either we have all the luck in the world, or it simply doesn’t exist.” She pursed her lips, proud of her comeback.

How morbid. What about the people outside the colony? He would’ve said as much, but it seemed to him that Woo-Yi was beyond caring; Woo-Yi has lived in this odd, removed place too long. Yeung-Sung no longer saw in her something to fear. He saw a petulant, spoilt brat that has become ignorant of the troubles outside. Yet, it looked like he could still help the people in here, it seemed that he still had purpose. So he settled for a softer rebuttal.

“So you do need a grocer, then. That’s what I understand,” he snapped back.

She crossed her arms, indicating that was not at all what she meant. Regardless, he offered his hand to help her off the counter. “Whatever, let’s get to work. I’ve decided.”

Woo-Yi raised her eyebrows.

“I am your boss”.

Chuckling, she hopped down.

As they looked at the store properly, side by side, Yeung-Sung opened himself up to the possibilities of what it could become:

The aisle bursting out, compressed with all the produce. The floor huffing with the strain of excited feet. The tills backed up with lines of happy customers that gazed longingly into their baskets as they queued. And all around, the soft buzz of musical wallpaper rang -a catchy tune about love or promises or success. And finally with the musk of money, the nostalgic wave of energy swept over Yeung-Sung. He took a step to enter the vision, but it just as quickly stopped, evaporating. His heart pined after it as the dim, dusty reality suddenly crept back into place and the fleeting dream was hidden by the shadows of the store, yet unlit by the sun. Yeung-Sung caught himself with a hand in his pocket, clutching at his seed. Cold.

The feel of it distracted him from this waking nightmare, long enough that when he cast his eyes back all was as it should be. Glumly, he realised, As it really is.

“You don’t look very excited. What happened?” Woo-Yi commented over on his right. She had also finished observing the store, and by her face evidently was just as dissatisfied.

Yeung-Sung faked a smile that came out more as a shrug, except through his mouth.

“Simon told me that this was your job before. This is what you did”. Woo-Yi stuck her hand out, upturned, in a way that said So do something. “This will be your store,” she stated.

He looked at her, remaining steady, but his thoughts came up blank.

Woo-Yi unleashed an irritated -yet high-pitched- grunt. “Don’t you care?”

Something sinister piloted Yeung-Sung’s tongue, “How many grocer’s do you know that love their job?”

Leaving her agape, he shouldered his way through to the warehouse. She left him alone, thankfully, to dwell in his negative pool of emotions while he figured out how to go about restoring the shop.

He kept her shocked face in mind as he thought on the matter, and it cheered him up. She had only met him and knew nothing about his past, never experienced the things that he had to routinely endure. They were from the same country, even! Yet Woo-Yi expressed not a single concern about it. And further still, Yeung-Sung was annoyed that he knew that she was consciously pressing his buttons and trying to get him to act. What kind of person was she? He’d never gotten that vibe from her cutesy persona, in ads or in interviews. In fact, there was a lot of mystery surrounding her. Yeung-Sung hadn’t actually asked her how she -once a national icon- ended up in this Northern experimental colony.

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Lost in his thoughts, he was well into marking down an inventory list -Simon had left some office supplies behind- when he heard Woo-Yi furiously tiptoeing in, making her scornful reproach back to him. Yeung-Sung was sitting against a thick-boarded box. The two exchanged flickering glances. Still not over his outburst, Woo-Yi took up a post in the other side of the stockroom and sulked, watching him quietly work.

At last he looked up from his clipboard (and his handwriting turned to scribbles).

“So what do you do in here?” he asked.

“I’m a musician” Woo-Yi replied from afar.

“Really? I’m surprised”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”. He heard her stomp closer.

“I mean how does that work?”. Yeung-Sung groaned, there was still much he didn’t understand. “Doesn’t this game… make all the money, or something?”

Woo-Yi waited until she stood near him before she replied. Her arms crossed, she laughed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have jobs, you idiot. Why do you think we’re opening a shop?”

“That’s – I assumed this is different. Food is a necessity”

Woo-Yi wheezed in disbelief, or at least that’s what it looked like. “And music is what?”

He looked straight-faced at her.

“Go on”, Woo-Yi taunted.

“A luxury,” he started, then sneered as he thought of something better. “A convenience, we don’t need it.”

She crossed her arms tighter. Yeung-Sung gulped as he watched her hands try hard to wriggle free. He was sure that he was about to be hit. But Woo-Yi let go, slumping her shoulders as she exhaled. “All right, good one,” she admitted.

“You sound so sincere,” he noted, laughing.

“Yeah? Keep pushing me and you’ll learn about the colony from the infirmary nurse. How about that?”

Yeung-Sung stood up and raised his hands to make peace. “Sorry, sorry. Can you just tell me about this place?”

She stared at him quizzically. “I thought Simon would’ve explained everything to you by now. Strange. He’s usually pretty adamant about that.” She thought for a moment. “Well, without getting too deep into it, you have to understand that Airgead works as a system in tandem to everyday life. It’s not necessarily a job in itself -thought it can be, but that kind of in-depth planning is not for me.” She rubbed her forehead at the thought of it. “I like to think of it kind of like a stock market. As in, it affects the value of things.”

Yeung-Sung school his head. “I still don’t get it. Can you give me an example? Like, how do people pay for your music? Do they tip you with in-game gold?”.

“No…not directly anyway. And it’s not gold. Airgead’s currency is medals, broken down further into micro-medals and mini medals. Or microms and minims,” she giggled.

“What’s funny about that?” Yeung-Sung asked.

Woo-Yi frowned. “It’s a musical term, ahh, you wouldn’t get it.” She began to pace a little, circling some of the stock Yeung-Sung had not counted and now she sounded more relaxed. “Anyway, I do shows in some of the places in town, or for events, like Easter just last week -or sometimes I just go for a walk and play, no one here minds,” she explained, rambling a little. Yeung-Sung could tell that she was finding it difficult to articulate her point.

He prodded her on. “And then? How do you get paid?”

“I’m getting to that! One second,” she scowled, fixing a hand to her hip. Perhaps there was something about it she didn’t want to disclose. “ANYWAY, I do a few things. I’ve acquired a somewhat of a fanbase, and so I make unique items for each of my gigs,”

“In the game?”

“-In Airgead, yes. I sell these off at the end and the fans trade them amongst themselves for bragging rights. That’s one of the things I do.” She put up two fingers. “I also get sponsored by some of the guilds and act as a salesperson for their goods, which I of course get a commission from. Usually its materials I need for my own use. And sometimes…well, I just work another job for a while. That’s the beauty of the system, I think.”

“It’s a little complicated, isn’t it?” Yeung-Sung asked, taking slow strides over beside her. “I think I’ll just stick to selling food”.

“Suit yourself, Yeung-Sung.” She went back to crossing her arms. “And also, yes, it is complicated. A thank you for explaining the complications of Airgead economics would be appreciated.”

“I’m sure it would” he agreed. “If that’s what you actually did, but I get the feeling that there’s a lot more to it than just that.” Leaning over a stack of pallets he took out a fair-sized head of lettuce that had something odd about it. “Not that I care too much about that either, there’s no way a system like this isn’t riddled with problems. I did economics a bit in university and if I can’t understand it -hey, what’s this?” he asked.

The lettuce was wrapped in a substance so thin and clear that it didn’t crinkle or appeared to move when touched it, or as he tossed the head in the air. Yeung-Sung rolled it around in his hands, looking for a barcode, as that could give him something to do. Yet there weren’t any to be found. He simply relished the ripple of its leaves and that scant plant smell, wondering how he would keep track of sales. Then he stopped. Noticing an odd dark spot, he lifted the lettuce up for a better view. A small clump of metallic filaments hung down like a hairy mole. Is this it? The lettuce flew out of his hands.

She snatched it from behind. “You know QR codes? These guys are like a mould for them. Able to be constantly re-configured,” Woo-Yi explained.

“When they are blank,” she brushed them with a fingertip, “they look like this.”

“Are they- ,”

“-Alive?” Woo-Yi finished. She pretended to toss it back to him. “I don’t know. Could be.”

Yeung-Sung blushed, ashamed at being startled by a god damn lettuce. “I’d prefer barcodes,” he grumbled. “What’s the point of that? Re-usable? Don’t tell me that it will perfectly predict the price of any product with its AI?” His sarcastic comment, he realized was quite loud. And also, he realised that he had put several steps between himself and that alien good.

Woo-Yi displayed a toothy smile and prowled after him. She had the ‘thing’ behind her back. “No. It’s not that advanced. You’d need to use it here so that it can adjust to the price formula. Ask someone else to explain how that works, though. Too maths-y for me”.

Noticing how unnerved Yeung-Sung was, she lodged the lettuce between her hips and patted it like a child. Her face had softened a lot since the argument earlier. Laughing through her words, she said, “Alright, I’ll stop. Look, I’m putting it back”.

Reluctantly, Yeung-Sung made his way back to the stack of pallets and peered inside. “Well, we can’t sell any of this,” he said.

Because I don’t know how, he didn’t say.

“But we can neither keep all of this on the floor either. Let’s find everything a home on the shelves in here.” He felt a surge of confidence within. Words came to him easily and they felt right. “Produce on the left, snacks up on this part in the middle. Umm, there’s a walk-in behind you. Let’s fill that up first actually, there’s some dairy and meats in the midst of these boxes, I’m sure.”

Woo-Yi leapt at his words as if she enjoyed taking orders. He had to push himself to keep up with her, as she set a solid pace. However they soon found that they were a good team. She followed Yeung-Sung’s orders smoothly, which made it easier for him to give them, helped him to be more focused, and before long all that remained on the floor were the tools and equipment which they had used to manoeuvre the goods.

After that, they decided to take a breather. Sitting down together on the curb outside, Yeung-Sung saw Woo-Yi pull out Airgead on her phone for the first time. From the scarce few people he had met in the colony, she was noticeably different, in that she wasn’t checking on it every chance she got. It made him even more curious. He decided to try probe a little more personally into her life.

Swallowing a bite of his apple he calmly asked, “Woo-Yi, how long have you been here?”

“Hmm?” she took a moment to swallow her water before answering.

She scrunched up her face. He watched her eyes scroll, measuring an invisible horizon of time in front of her until she came up with her answer. “A couple of months. Uh- Five? Yeah, I think that’s about right.”

She sat forward, holding her bottle of water in the trough of her skirt. Her flowery outfit, wasted inside, came alive out in the afternoon sun.

“I wasn’t here at the start. Most of the systems, the facilities had been setup.”

Yeung-Sung nodded her on, pretending to understand.

She continued, putting down her phone. “Two resets ago, that’s when I started. That’s what they always do; bring in new members during resets. Otherwise older players would have too much of an advantage. The way some of them go on, you’d think that the colony has existed for years.” She seemed a little upset talking about it but covered it up with her humour.

“Of course,” Yeung-Seung said, trying to align his tone to hers, in empathy.

She could tell that he didn’t understand, but nodded in appreciation, gazing into the scattering bits of cloud above.

He had so many questions that he was struggling to refrain from asking, but he didn’t want to risk delving into something upsetting. Still, there was definitely more to her than her spunky, carefree attitude. He too looked up at the sky, wondering if her child-like acceptance of her circumstance was rubbing off on him. Was it that easy to adjust? Even if you didn’t fully understand what was going on? If it was, maybe this experiment wasn’t such a misuse of resources. Is there something to this?