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Life and Production: S3 E2: The Night's Contest

Barber and Knight chop it up at the Afro Pick.

By Skyler SaundersPublished 5 years ago 5 min read
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This is an all-black establishment.

The Mint

The colors of the professional major league football team in Delaware were fittingly green, gold, and black. Fittingly because the name of the team was the Mint and represented the hue of United States dollar, the specific standard on which that currency was based, and the positive ledger balance, respectively. The team’s quarterback, Corey Rayful, signed a four year 250 million dollar deal to play with Delaware. Vick Knight took offense to this fact.

Eyeing

“He’s not worth it," he said, his palm grasping a mug of beer. “He’s got a bum knee and can’t throw a spiral to save his life.”

Monty Barber frowned.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. Knight’s scowl turned into a sour grin.

“You know, if we had that kind of money, you know what we would do?”

“What’s that?”

"Money. If we had 250 million dollars on hand. We’d be able to start our own lab. Never mind Lesane. You see?”

“I’m just trying to pay off my student loans. I’m not worried about Mr. Lesane,” Barber said.

“I’m not talking about worrying, I’m talking about ownership. Striking out as a partnership and taking what’s ours,” Knight said.

The Afro Pick was a bar which served only coloreds. The menu provided guests with an array of drugs from ecstasy to heroin. Barber and Vick only gulped down beers and whiskey. But the temptation remained.

“If Lesane didn’t have us take a test every now and then, I’d score a bag of the boy,” Knight said, eyeing a couple injecting heroin in each other’s arms. “I mean one hit won’t hurt anybody,” Knight said, leaning across the bar and imitating the motions of the couple. The Mint were up 27 to 12. The glowing orbs around the bar showcased the game. But Knight was not finished venting.

Inspiration for the Bar

Elsewhere

“Bum Rayful. He can’t even read the defense.”

“They’re up, though,” Barber’s voice arose then fell.

Elsewhere in the space for those patrons who abstained from psychoactive drugs like cocaine and alcohol, robots took orders of food or play games of chance. Knight caressed his beer mug.

“All I’m saying is that we could hit it big. I mean big. We’ve got the degrees,” he swore, took a great swig, and pounded his fist on the bar. Barber became apprehensive. Barber had concluded his drinking session, knowing that he would have to give voice commands to his blue Regalia VIII. Knight would need to sit back and try to calm down before returning him to his apartment. As the two men left, protesters and demonstrators launched a barrage of objections their way. Comprised of people of Black, white, brown, and a few yellow and red, the crowd denounced the Blacks only establishment. Barber carried Knight at his side. Their night of drinking may have ended, but Knight was in the mood to talk.

“I’m telling you, Monty, all we have to do is get a hold of those patents for DACA,” Knight said.

“And do what with them, Vick? Just swoop in and take them right from under Lesane’s nose?”

“We have to,” Knight said. The vehicle eased its way down Honesty Boulevard. Barber still felt uneasy at Knight’s words hinting at theft. His Regalia floated away from the Afro Pick.

Dare

“You need not talk like that, man,” Barber said. “It’s destructive and vicious and I won’t stand for it.”

“What? And the way Lesane treats us, how dare you not admit that you want a piece of that billion dollar corporation!” Knight rolled over in the back seat.

“But that’s not how you do it. Look, when we graduate, we’ll be doctors of science. Lesane can’t even say that for himself. We could start our own chain of superlabs around the world. Can’t you see that?”

“I hear you talking. What you just said doesn’t change the fact that Lesane sees us as peons right now. I don’t care about the PhD. We’ve already got masters. What, that’s supposed to change the fact that we’re still working for an egotistical lunatic?”

"Why don’t you just quit?”

“You know, you’re worse than Rayful. You don’t see that it’s us he needs. Not the other way around. To quit would just make him right. And he’s wrong, wrong, wrong,” Knight said. The car responded to Barber’s command to stop at Knight’s home. He opened the rear door and again aided Knight in getting to his front doorstep.

“We’ve got to do it, Mont,” Knight whimpered.

“It’s just the booze talking. That’s all. In the morning you’ll drink some tea and feel right again,” Barber said.

The Night's Contest

“No. I’ve got to formulate a scheme to get those patents,” Knight said. At the door Barber stepped. He squared up with knight and looked him in the eye.

“Now, I’ve told you what going to happen. You’re going to sleep off the alcohol and wake up and make yourself some chamomile tea. You’ll forget about some silly scheme to steal Lesane’s patents. For now, why don’t you go in there, finish the rest of the Mint game, and call it a night?”

Knight was stunned. Brief glimpses into sobriety registered on his face. He didn’t say another word. He just opened his door and greeted a robot as Barber sped away. He shuffled past the electronic home assistant. He plunked down into his bed. The smart TV showed the end of the Mint game. Delaware had won 34 to 21. Knight fell fast asleep, never paying attention to the results of the night’s contest.

science fiction
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