After they returned to Markus’s room, he immediately plopped down on the couch, letting out a grunt as he sank farther into the cushions than he expected. Alexia placed the cash-filled jacket next to the work desk by the window. She was going to have to find a new hiding place for her money.

Markus had decided to reward himself by finally playing his ill-gotten game. Alexia’s reward was a late start on Markus’s overdue history essay. The teacher required all homework to be hand-written, to discourage students from turning in computer-generated work. He had admitted to the class with a sigh that while he couldn’t stop them from using an app to do the writing, he could at least make them copy it all out themselves, in the hope that a few facts might stick in their heads.

Markus hadn’t considered using an app any more than he had considered doing the work himself. She had been writing his essays for him almost as long as she had been employed. He was delighted to find out that she was intelligent and articulate enough to earn good grades for him, but this was secondary. His main motivation was pure boredom and laziness.

It was a subject near and dear to the heart of any commoner– the history of the implementation of Universal Basic Income and Universal Basic Services; or UBI and UBS for short. This was how you got clothes, food and a place to sleep if you weren’t one of the lucky few born into billions. And if you weren’t a criminal. And were at least 20 years old (Alexia was not). She placed the pencil down over the essay.

“Markus, what’s going to happen to Merrick now? He said he has a family, right?”

“Oh, nothing, probably. He’ll either be transferred, or quietly let go. We can’t very well hand him over to the police, now can we? They’d love to use it as an excuse to investigate us.”

That was good enough for her. Merrick deserved to face the consequences of his actions, but being forced into the slums would be a death sentence for a man of his age. Losing his job would mean he just went back on UBI, equivalent to an early retirement. Assuming he didn’t have grandchildren who still depended on his income.

So for the next hour, she sat at his desk by the window, penning out his essay, enjoying the palatial garden view and trying to ignore the squeals of “Nyan!” and “Yes, master!” every time a maid changed outfits. Halfway through she hazarded a glance at the TV to see Markus was trying to unlock the ‘police girl’ uniform. She turned back to the essay, determined not to check again, no matter what she heard.

She penned out her concluding paragraph, being careful to stick to the “official” histories and leave out any reference to the hard truths of the real world. It seemed that was the secret to academic success– you just listened to what the teacher said and regurgitated it back to them in different words, showing you had absorbed the information. She wrote:

In conclusion, the implementation of UBI and UBS through the instruments of ‘Universal Public Authorities’, carried out under the leadership of Administrator Medici and the late President Smith, at once resolved the problems of extreme mass poverty and social unrest, and demonstrated the corruption and impotence of the previous system of democracy, which had failed to address the growing disaster for over a decade. Entrusting these implements of public power to the newly ennobled houses ushered in an age of stability and prosperity which we enjoy to this day. So long as these powers remain in the hands of the competent few, secure from the fickle masses of voters, we ensure the continued good governance of our country for generations to come.

She had just finished when a knock came at the door. Markus sprung up from the couch with his usual enthusiasm and answered it before she could react.

“Jeorge! Glad to see you again! I take it my father would like to have a word with me?” asked Markus with a beaming smile.

“Uh, no, young master. Actually I had a matter to discuss with Alexia.”

Jeorge poked his head in and gave her a forced smile. Markus slumped back down on the couch with an exaggerated sigh and resumed his game. His maid was now equipped with a black garter-belt gun holster and was waving a pair of handcuffs at him playfully, but his face was tight and he looked at the screen with eyes that were now devoid of interest.

Alexia followed Jeorge out into the hallway. The idea occurred to her that one of Markus’s goals might have been to get his father’s attention. She had spent almost every moment with Markus over the last year, yet she had never laid eyes on his father even once.

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“This game sucks.” huffed Markus as she closed the door behind her.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Quite an exciting day so far, isn’t it?” Said Jeorge. His voice was pleasant and conversational, but he looked at her with an intent and searching gaze.

“Yes, it certainly is.” She replied. She wondered how many of Markus’s tricks Jeorge and Lord Marcellinus had figured out during their interrogation of Merrick.

“I just wanted to confirm a few things with you directly.” He gave her that warm, grandfatherly smile that only graying men nearing retirement seemed to be able to pull off.

“Do you know?”

She waited a moment for him to clarify, but he only looked at her expectantly. She guessed there was only one thing he could be talking about.

“Yes, Markus just told me.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed somehow alarmed. There was a little bit too much white showing. That grandfatherly smile never faded, but his eyes were a bit scary, so she quickly added:

“Um, I hope Lord Marcellinus wasn’t offended… I had no idea I was, uh… using his late wife’s name as an alias.”

“Oh, he has been kept informed of your situation since the day you entered the mansion. He has given his tacit approval of your presence here, as well as his son’s choice of name. You have nothing to fear from him. I meant it when I said that he is a kind and just man”

“Though I suppose his enemies call him ruthless and pragmatic.” He added with a laugh. His eyes were smiling now too, the alarm having left. Alexia was left with the intuition that she had just set foot in a minefield and had gotten lucky. She wondered what he had really been asking when he said ‘Do you know?’.

“He is extremely- how should I put it- laissez faire where his son is concerned.”

Jeorge began to stroll down the hallway, and Alexia followed at his shoulder. She breathed a sigh of relief to hear that the lord wasn’t going to come after her after all. Jeorge began chatting as he walked, his previous intensity replaced by a more casual air.

“I think it all started back when Markus was just 10 years old. Lord Marcellinus entertains important guests from time to time, and Markus wanted to be a part of those meetings, but of course his father refused. It’s not the sort of thing for a young child, you know? But Markus was adamant about it. So he-”

Jeorge broke into an amused chuckle.

“Well, you see, Lord Marcellinus has a collection of very nice whiskey that he only uses when guests visit. He keeps it in one of the cabinets in his reception room– the only cabinet that has a lock on it. Well, Markus decided he was going to hide inside during one of his father’s meetings, so he stole the key to the cabinet and moved all the bottles over. It seems he discovered that he could turn the lock from the inside using a paperclip and lock himself inside.

“So the day of the meeting, Markus is hiding inside when his father decides to serve some of his whiskey! Markus kept the key with him, so the servants were running all over searching for it, and finally Lord Marcellinus got impatient and ordered me to bring a crowbar and break the cabinet open so his guest wouldn’t have to wait.

“Well, there I was, kneeling in front of the door about to pry it open, when to our astonishment the lock clicks open by itself and Markus steps out, his hair matted and drenched in sweat. Markus throws open the unlocked cabinet right next to the one he was hiding in, and there are all the bottles, where he had moved them. Without missing a beat, he starts scolding us for not having the good sense to check the other cabinets, then strides out the door in a huff.

“Well, I think his father was so surprised, he just forgot to ever punish Markus. Ever since then, I suppose he’s gotten in the habit of letting his son run a bit wild, for better or worse.”

Jeorge stopped at this point and turned to face Alexia. His eyes were twinkling with the delight of reliving a fond memory, which made her smile too. She felt like telling him that Markus certainly had been running wild, bringing in slum orphans to work in his father’s house, but decided she had better avoid that issue.

“So I was hoping you could tell me a story too.” Said Jeorge. “I’m going to be frank with you. We know all about your life from before the slums, and some of the circumstances of how you ended up there, but as for what happened there, and how you met Markus, that’s still a mystery. Perhaps you could fill me in on the details.”

Jeorge held his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, trying hard to look casual and friendly. When she didn’t answer immediately, he added:

“Of course, you don’t have to share anything you’re uncomfortable with! I know certain unsavory things go on in the slums. But the more we know… the better we’ll be able to deal with any, uh, unexpected situations, especially–”

Jeorge looked her in the eyes and continued, “Especially if anyone were to come looking for you.”

Alexia considered this for a moment, weighed her options. She decided to tell him everything. For better or worse, she was on Lord Marcellinus’s radar now, and it was in her best interests to stay as far on his good side as she could.

“Well,” she began, “No one is going to come looking for me. I don’t have any living relatives or enemies who care enough to do that. I guess I should start from the day I met Markus.”