William crossed his arms as he looked down at Albert, refusing to sit.

  Albert didn’t look up right away- he just kept writing, his fountain pen scratching away at the paper before him.

  He was sitting by the window, jacket slung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up past his elbows- looking through paperwork. The city beyond the glass looked smaller from here- domes nested into red stone, lights glowing soft and warm against the dark.

  He sighed first. Long, and tired. Set down the documents in his hands and looked up from his desk. His eyes had dark bags hanging under them as he gave a soft chuckle.

  “I was wondering how long it’d take before you showed up, William” he said, popping his neck slowly, body tensing up before relaxing.

  William didn’t move. The drink sat between them like evidence, unmoving. “I asked you a question.’

  Albert looked at him. Really looked at him, without pity or resentment.

  “It’s a sponsorship,” he said evenly. “One season, and only one season.”

  William laughed. sharp, humorless, and controlled. “That’s what they always say.”

  “I know,” Albert replied. No argument flew from his mouth, no corporate smooth overs. “That’s why they don't get any rights. Period.”

  He reached across the table, picked up the can, turned it slowly in his hands.

  “You think this was the first thing I compromised on?” he asked. “We downgraded the lab meat. Cut the furniture contracts. Deferred maintenance on three non-critical systems. I froze hiring entirely.” He set the can back down, almost looking disgusted."I cut my own pay by thirty percent.”

  William’s jaw tightened. “And it still wasn’t enough? Why didn't you ask the department for emergency funding? ”

  Albert drummed his fingers on the table before answering. “We’re burning through the budget faster than last year. New safety standards, drilling tool upgrades, more surveys. All of it costs money- and we're a high risk place to give funding to, William” A pause, before he continued.

  “I won’t compromise on safety. I won’t touch life support. That's a vote of confidence money is being spent to keep my promise to you- the workers. to the department of labor, though, it's expensive.”

  “So you let Earth back in.”

  “I let one sponsor in,” Albert said quietly. “Limited branding. Limited distribution. No infrastructure access. No ownership.” He met William’s eyes.

  “They don’t get a foot in the door. They get a sticker and a participation trophy.”

  William exhaled through his nose, hands clenched as he kept them crossed.

  “You don’t get to invite a rabid fox into the house after it bites you and say everything will be fine.”

  Albert’s mouth twitched- not a smile. Something closer to regret.

  “I get to make sure the house doesn’t collapse while we’re trying to keep foxes out. I simply brought a pup inside. Harmless.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Finally, Albert spoke again, softer. “I didn’t do this lightly. I didn’t do it because I forgot what Earth did to us.” He paused. “I did it because I remember.”

  He stood , chair legs scraping harshly against the floor. For a moment William thought he was going to end the conversation there- walk past him, defer it, turn it into another meeting that never quite happened.

  Albert stepped closer.

  Up close, William could see how tired he really was. Not just the bags under his eyes, but the way he carried himself- careful, balance unpredictable. A coffee stain on his pants leg, right where carbon fiber met cloth.

  The prosthetic wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t hidden, either. A clean black surface, scuffed from use, joints worn smooth where fabric brushed against it day after day. The kind of thing you stopped noticing until you were reminded why it was there, and then immediately forgot again.

  Albert reached out and rested a hand briefly on William’s shoulder. Not firm. Not commanding. Just there, as if he-

  “I understand.” he said quietly.

  That was all.

  William’s anger hit something solid within himself and stalled. The words he’d lined up- sharp, unrelenting- suddenly felt like ash sticking to the back of his throat.

  He looked at Albert and saw it clearly. not a manager. Not a negotiator. Not a man who’d climbed into this office on someone else’s name and money. Someone who’d been chewed up by the same machine and spat out somewhere different. Someone who’d paid the price William might still pay

  Same starting point. Same path. Different destinations,

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  William exhaled slowly, uncrossing his arms slowly. The anger didn’t vanish entirely- it shifted, dulled, forced to make room for something else.

  “…I don’t like this,” he said finally.

  Albert nodded once. “I know. But its not to stay.”

  And for the first time since he’d picked up the can, William believed him- just a little.

  Albert’s hand fell away, the weight of it lingering longer than the touch itself. “Take tomorrow,” he said, already turning back toward his desk. “EMTs want twenty-four hours. No drilling. No heavy work. I don’t want to see your name on a report for at least a day.”

  William hesitated.

  This time, it wasn’t anger holding him in place. It was still there, but so was the strange sense that leaving meant something was being left unfinished- not paperwork, not the argument, but the feeling of it. Like walking away from a crack in the ground after it’s been flagged, knowing it’s still there under the mesh.

  “…Alright,” he said finally.

  - - -

  William’s quarters felt smaller dduringthe work day.

  The lights were brighter- harsher white instead of the low orange- and for the first time in a long while, there was no countdown hovering at the edge of his vision. No clock telling him where to be, what to lift, his vitals. If he was honest, he missed the hud from his suit a little.

  He stood in the center of the room for a moment, datapad in his hand, and realized he didn’t actually know what to do with himself.

  The suit went onto its dock hours ago, and he honestly wanted to go back to work and not think about today.

  The room hummed softly as systems adjusted to his presence, temperature ticking up a fraction as if anticipating rest. Of course, he wasn't going to lay down yet.

  His stomach growled- a dull, insistent reminder that he'd missed lunch. The kitchen wasn't open anymore, but he could grab something in the city. He did need some supplies- the station didn't provide everything after all. It was technically his day off now.

  “Toiletries,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket and several sealed canisters. “And food. A couple other things…” he stepped out of his room and into the hall, tapping down the list in his datapad.

  Workers passed him in clusters, heading toward lifts and airlocks, eyes already half-elsewhere. Others drifted more slowly- injured, reassigned, waiting. A few rooms had locked their doors had shutters half-down, lights dimmed to save power.

  Others were brighter than he remembered. probably coworkers enjoying their day off.

  He chuckled as he headed towards the public transport vacuum tube- hopping into the slim bullet train like vehicle and clipping himself into the harness and waiting for the announcement.

  “Public transport 1, closing airlocks. Please enjoy your ride, and remember- there's no place like Mars.”

  Stepping out of the transport, william took a deep breath of the oddly natural smelling oxygen. Red Valley City was one of the few places you could go without a suit, and it showed. Honestly, if he remembered correctly from his little forays into the history of Mars when he- migrated here. He was pretty sure there were vats of algae and phytoplankton along the walkways to produce the oxygen.

  Trees lined the streets- different species going down different streets. Oak trees heading off in the distance towards the living centers, cherry trees towards the entertainment district, willows towards the shopping district, and Finally, pine trees heading off towards the research and development section.

  It was clever, barely noticeable and best of all- extremely effective. If it weren’t for the quadruple layered reinforced glass dome above, he'd think he was in one of Earths national forests with how fresh the air was. With a smile, he made his way down the street.

  He stopped at a supply kiosk first. Basic hygiene packs. Meal supplements (spices, he wasn't totally sure why they were called supplements),

  A sack of hydro-potatoes from the hydroponics district- cheap, filling, soft as hell but tasteless unless you really worked at it. He hesitated, then made a new note in his datapad to visit the hydroponics district for real veggies.

  Variety, he told himself. That was all.

  As the clerk scanned the items, William’s gaze drifted upward. Just looking for for something to fix his attention to, but his eyes locked onto something worse.

  A screen above the counter looped softly animated graphics. A smiling model holding a product that didn’t belong here- a makeup product, totally unnecessary and simply unneeded on the red planet.

  “RustDust Red! Now available near you in your closest convenience store, brought to you by BlackStone Inc.”

  He felt his jaw tighten.

  Sponsorship, he reminded himself. One season. Limited distribution. Yeah right… like that's how that works.

  He paid without comment and stepped back into the street- taking a deep breath in. Maybe, just like Site 22, this particular convenience store was having money issues.

  It was everywhere.

  Presidential blocks. closed recreational spaces- everywhere he looked, he found signs of company meddling. It wasn't obvious- oh no, it never was. A small poster here, a fifteen second ad waiting in transport areas. It was…insidious. Playing on familiarity, the echo of the past. Nostalgia. He walked faster, heading towards the other side of town, trying to flee from the claws of corporatism he thought he'd already escaped a year ago.

  Past a glass-fronted facility he hadn’t had reason to notice before- sterile white interior, technicians moving behind transparent walls inside. Red Apollo Technologies blazened above the doorway.

  He slowed despite himself.

  The building looked… normal. Like any other facility that kept the colony running. Like something you didn’t realize was a backbone of the society until you did a little digging.

  He paused entirely, watching as the technicians carried nutrient vats across the floor. Small ones. Large ones. Ones so big they could be a room themselves, heading to the back of the building. He could even see some lab steaks growing in the window- no doubt part of their transparency clause. He reached for the door-

  That was when he saw it.

  A public board- physical, not digital- bolted to the wall outside a general goods store down the street. Flyers layered over one another, edges curling, dates scrawled and scratched out. One of them caught his eye.

  Earth logo. Old one. The kind he hadn’t seen since before everything went wrong.

  Now Hiring at BluRocket Mining- Experienced Personnel Welcome. The name beneath it hit harder than he expected.

  His old mining company. The one that he'd bled for, almost died for- and then was almost tossed aside like trash.

  The corridor seemed to narrow around him. Sounds dulled, as if someone had wrapped the world in thick cloth. He stared at the flyer, heart thudding, memories surfacing uninvited- shifts that never ended, corners cut to make an extra dollar. Men who… didn’t make it home. They’re not supposed to be here, he thought.

  Not like this. Not touching people who already paid the price.

  William turned sharply and ducked into the nearest open door- into Red Apollo Technologies.

  A digital beep chimed overhead as the door slid shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, breathing, letting everything fade back in.

  “Can I help you sir?” One of the technicians asked.

  “Oh, no just- browsing.” William replied, starting to wander through the smaller labsteak isles. They kept them in their nutrient vats until sold, so it was pretty easy to see the quality of the steak through the glass. He picked out a couple before heading back to the counter.

  On the counter near the entrance sat a stack of fresh flyers. Bright. New.

  The October Project they read. William picked one up. And for the first time since his day off began, he forgot about resting entirely.