Technomancers Chat Over Lunch

Aster and Emma discuss clubhouses and employment over pub food.

Date: 09/09/2018	St CeCe's Pub, North Corktown Named after the "Patron Saint of Whiskey," CeCe's cozy atmosphere is inviting and comfortable. The interior smacks of the intimate neighborhood pubs found throughout Ireland, with a stone fireplace, wood panelling and floors, and gorgeous stained glass salvaged from a Northern Michigan church. In the front room, a few pub tables line one wall while the dark wood bar stands opposite them. The dining room lies on the other side of an elegant wood-paneled wall reminiscent of an old Irish church, with very solid stained glass panels. The booths look to be imported straight out of some castle on the Irish countryside - heavy, carved wood, leather seats, and the tables are solid as well. A small stone fireplace anchors the seating area. When live music is on the venue, the band sets up right in front of it.
Cast: Aster Emma
It's mid-afternoon, and most of the lunch crowd is gone, and the dinner crowd hasn't quite shown up yet, so St. CeCe's is a little more empty than not. There's a few people scattered around, including one Dr. Emma Durov, who sits at the bar working on grading. There's a stack of papers in front of her, along with a beer and a small plate of fries. Judging by the state of the beer (mostly consumed), and the amount of red ink on the top most page, her students are not doing well. Mid-afternoon? Sounds like breakfast time to Aster. She's at least brushed her hair into a state of bearability, but the lazy slouch and the way she rubs her eyes makes it look like she's just recently pulled herself out of bed. She perks up when she sees someone she recognises, and she invites herself to flop down next to Emma. "Bangers and mash, thanks," she orders of the barman, before her gaze flits down to the top sheet Emma's working on. "That bad, huh?" Emma glances up and over when she sees Aster, flashing the other a quick smile before scowling down at the sheet of paper. "Yeeeeeeah." She says slowly, gesturing wide as if to say 'what do I even do with this shit?' "This is going to be a very, very long semester at this rate. I give a little pre-test to see how much each class knows going into it and... how the hell did they get this far in their programs without having even learnt the basics?" Aster shakes her head. She opens her mouth to answer -- ah, but her order's here already, moving at the speed of pose -- so she detours to give the barman a smile of thanks. One sausage gets speared on her fork. "I dunno. Applications being lax about prerequisites? Forgetting everything between semesters in a haze of drink and partying?" "I mean, I guess." Emma says, like the idea of partying all summer was foreign to her. "Every semester I try to set my expectations low, and ever time - every time - I'm still disappointed." She scribbles something down on the top sheet, flipping it over into the 'done' pile. She takes a long drag of her beer, like to dull down the pain of grading that last one. "Anyhow, how's it going with you? I imagine people going back to Uni does... something to your viewership numbers?" Aster grins. "Bit of an increase, actually. New students gathering and sharing this channel they found. But streaming's not the main thing anyway, especially with these projects to work on. Investigations, programming, building." She dips that sausage and takes a bite out of it, with far too much teeth and tearing of flesh to be at all sexualised however you look at it. "Reminds me. Any plans on where we'll get the server space for Grimoire? It'd be best if we manage it ourselves -- ultimate security and all that -- but I'd want at least, say, three different servers in different locations." "Funny you should ask that." Emma replies, grabbing a fry from the basket and bathing it in ranch. She pauses a moment, considering her wording. "So, we been thinking about the clubhouse. And the economics of it. A week ago, we had a little staff meeting to discuss how we'd afford a place - you know, without a sugar daddy that leaves us with one person in control, or without squatting in a place. And the idea was that we could put the meeting space in the basement or second floor of a business that supports it. The reigning idea was in the bottom of a book shop." She waves the fry around a bit as she talks, before finally just eating the damn thing. Aster munches that bite of sausage, eating at a thoughtful place. "I'm partial to basements," she says. Does Emma know Aster lives in one? "Helps keep the daystar off. But yeah, sounds like a good idea, something which can support itself a bit. Though that's a double-edged sword -- if it does enough trade to make a good amount of money, then that makes it a bit less private a location than if it stays quiet." Emma nods a few times. "Frankly, I'd be more concerned about the opposite - what if it goes under? On the other hand, I read that half of Detroit doesn't pay property taxes, so maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing." Emma replies, grabbing another fry. "Plus, I hear that some people have tha real... business saavy. Know some tricks to make sure a place does well." She glances towards Aster. "Question is: people were all 'You and Amane and whoever else might object to it.' I thought so long as there's wifi and coffee y'all would be cool, but I should ask you directly: What do you think?" Aster blinks. A finger points to herself, as if to ask, 'Moi?' "I mean. I know some people might object to being meatspace-present in a public location, but that's part of what Grimoire's for. So it sounds good to me. It being a bookstore... yeah that sounds nice and traditional, but how viable is it? Especially in the Age Of Amazon, do brick-and-mortar bookstores really do that well?" She scoops up another forkful of mash, but pauses with it halfway to her mouth. "What about an inn?" "No, I don't think they do great. Ones in Detroit probably doubly... not great." Emma readily concedes. "But frankly, I don't think any business in Detroit is going to do great without some... divine intervention, or whatever you want to call it." She shifts in her seat, picking up her glass of beer and swirling it around for a moment. "An Inn, though? I think those are more complex operations. Unless you're tlaking about a pub. Or Cottage Inn." Aster grins. "Wouldn't have expected you to talk about divine intervention. That sounds like more of a Chorister thing. But yeah, it'll be an uphill battle however you look at it, even with some real business savvy to it..." She tilts her head. "I wonder if business savvy is part of Shadi's general brilliance? I mean, she's smart at most things. Might be worth asking her, at least." She shakes her head, moving on. "It'd be complicated, yeah, but think about it. Everyone needs a place to live, a place to eat. No way there's ever not a demand for that. And--" She waves her fork, indicating her own plate and Emma's fries. "--look at us, we're using a pub right now. Plus two more points. One, it'd help more with the clubhouse's purpose. Oh, you're a new club member in town, don't have a place yet? Would you look at that, we /already/ have rooms for you. Two..." She grins. "...'you all meet in an inn' is kind of an adventure classic, don't you think?" "I'm not being literal." Emma replies about the 'Divine Intervention' bit, like it might have been in doubt. Otherwise, she listens to the rest of what Aster has to say with a neutral sort of affect. "It's an idea." Emma agrees, without either rining endorsement or condemnation in her voice. "Maybe just the pub portion of it. That seems more our size. But... hmm." She pauses for a moment, thinking it over. "On the other hand, I read that like two thirds of new resteraunts go under in a year. And we'd need a bigger front end than a small bookstore, regardless of size. I mean, er, staff-wise." She draws off, still toying with the idea in her head. Aster hms. "That's true. And we would /not/ want Gordon Ramsay to come and rescue us. Heh, that'd turn into the /real/ Hell's Kitchen if someone's summonings went wrong, or something like that." She shakes her head, amused by her own joke. "Hmm. You said that some people here are particularly canny about business. Who d'you mean? Because honestly, I should just leave it in their hands rather than drop too many armchair ideas on it." Emma says, "You know..." Emma begins slowly, watching the barman for a moment, making sure he's far away. "Someone who can... put their finger on the balance a bit. Ya know, Load the dice. I hear the... well, I hear some of Alexandra's people are good at that." Emma pauses for a minute, before adding. "I guess... we don't really care if it does well. All it needs to do is pay property tax and utilities. And keep it from one person owning the club house, which is what people have adamently said they don't want."" Aster ah-has, nodding. "That kind of savvy, gotcha." She finally takes that bite of mash, pondering while she eats. "Hm. If we don't even really care if it does well and pays for itself, then what about just having some communally-owned building? That'd keep a single sugar-daddy from monopolising it and threatening us with taking his ball and going home." "We were talking about doing this co-op style." Emma says, gesturing with her beer glass. "But yeah, then we got into... well, people would owe dues, and how do we structure dues where some people can pay and other's can't? It got equally complicated fast." Aster nods, her nose wrinkled. "True. Plus, 'whoever is on the lease' becomes an awfully convenient list of names for Technocrats to get hold of, if they're still chasing things in Detroit." Emma glances at the barman again, again making sure that he's far enough away. Still, mentioning the Union's name directly seems to make Emma vaguely uncomfortable. "Exactly." She agrees, adjusting herself in her seat. Her voice dropping, she adds, "Hell, there's a reason why the Mob does this sort of thing. It makes sense. And keeps things clean. Ish." Aster sighs, nodding. "Trouble is, there's no 'laundering' enlightenment..." She eyes Emma's glass. The conversation inspires her to order a beer. "Though that reminds me. Arthur says he's been trying to persuade you to do an educational YouTube channel? Might grab random internet people better than your students, by the look of that red pen." Emma shakes her head. "Yeah, all this started when I started thinking about the economics involved in setting up my own lab." She says, with a lopsided frown. "Arthur's advice was... start a YouTube channel. Uh huh. Like I have any talent there." Aster turns in her seat, a playful grin on her face even as she puts her hands to her hips. "Take it from a streamer. 'Talents' and 'tracts of land' help, but they aren't /everything/. Especially for something educational, it's more important to be passionate and articulate. Like... maybe I'll stop by and listen to one of your lectures, and see what I think of your style?" "Passion I've got. Articulation? Not so much." Emma remarks, shaking her head. "No, I don't think the youtube plan is really... me. Plus, if anything, I want to keep a lower profile than I have been, not a higher. But, hell, you're welcome to crash one of my lectures. As long as you're quiet and stuff, eh?" Aster pffts. "I'll have to see you in action and judge your articulation for myself. So yes, I will crash. Is there air conditioning? If there is, I'd keep my big coat closed, so you won't have to worry about me distracting anyone." Emma rolls her eyes. "I said quiet." She says, shaking her head. "Though... I swear to god, half of my physics undergrads? Act like they've *never* seen a woman before." She rolls her eyes, hard, and lets out a sigh. "I'll be quiet too," Aster says, "But I think it's important to look at distraction holistically." She grins. "So they get distracted with you too, huh?" "The 'distracted' I can deal with. Sort of." Emma grumbles. "It's the disrespectful sort that drive me up a freaking wall. The sort that assume I'm here because of gender quotas or something, and not that I worked my fucking ass off to get where I am despite all the walls in the way." Sore subject much? Aster grimaces. "Ah. /That/ kind of never seen a girl before. The kind which could use a good kick between the legs, preceding or followed by being /utterly wrecked/ at something they consider a point of pride." "That kind, and more. There's a whole... veritable zoo of those kinds. Kids that'd love nothing more than to make me look dumb, or whatever." Emma Ughs, reaching over towards her beer again and finishing it in fell swoop. She settles the glass down and glowers at nothing for a moment. "Eh. No use getting bent out of shape over it." Speaking of beer, Aster's has arrived by now, and she takes her first sip concurrently with Emma finishing her last. "Mm. What can you even really do in that situation? With my channel, I have a big red BAN button for people who can't get past 'girl who games', show 'em the door if they can't play nice. But you can't throw people out of university classes that readily, huh?" Emma orders another while the bartender is close at hand, "Another brown ale." She asks, before he goes off to go fill that order. "No, I can't." She agrees. "And worse, a lot of students these days feel they're entitled to do whatever they want, because they pay tuition. 'Customer is always right.' Which is bullshit for an academic institution." She shakes her head. "All you can do is not play their game. Or try not to. But shutting them down is..." Emma sighs. "It's not easy." Aster grimaces. "It's bullshit /everywhere/. It was only ever meant to mean 'serve the customer what they ask for, even if you think it's bad taste'. Like a chef gets a docket for a pepperoni-pineapple-anchovie pizza, and can only shrug and say 'the customer is always right'. It does not mean 'let the customer walk all over your hardworking, underpaid staff'. But yes, it's even more bullshit in academia. Sucks that you have to deal with it." Emma shrugs a bit, watching the bartener pull her beer for a few moments, before she glances back. "Yeah..." She agrees, letting out a sigh. "I guess. I don't have it that much worse than anyone else. And... at least I got a job. Which is more than a lot of people can say. Especially around here." Aster nods grimly, a hand idly and supportively patting Emma's shoulder. "Every job comes with some bad. 's why people pay you to do it. I mean, I barely have a job -- that freelancer thing -- and I have to deal with an awful lot of 'the customer is always right' in terms of what they ask for. People who've heard techie terms on, what, Fox News? And so they think they have to cram them /all/ together." Emma grins at the idea, and lets out a small laugh. "Oh Geeze." She says, shaking her head. "I can only imagine. 'Hey, I want my web-blog to have more Adobe Firefoxes on the javascript. What? What do you mean you can't?!'" She jokes. Aster convulses, bending double with a grimace on her face and a hand over her mouth, as if to forestall vomiting. The barman shoots her a glare, and she recovers herself in a hurry. "No no, the mash is great! It's just... um..." Her face drops. "Nerd stuff." She turns to Emma with a glare. "Yeah, it's pretty much like that." Emma looks apologetically at the barman, offering a wane smile and a shrug like to say 'sorry!', before looking back to Aster. "Oh god, I hit too close to home, clearly." Aster takes a /big/ swig of beer after that, sighing as she shakes her head. "It's fine, it's fine. Occupational hazard. Been thinking lately if I should find some /other/ kind of employment. But then, I do that every time I sit down to do some freelance work to begin with." Emma gives Aster another sympathetic expression, taking a sip of her own beer. "Like you said, I guess that's why they pay you in the first place. Paying the premium for putting up with shit like that." She says, shaking her head. "Personally, I feel locked in. I don't think I could change jobs if I wanted to. But... most days it's fine, and I enjoy my work... it's just the *bullshit*, right?" Aster nods. "The bullshit comes in tides. And right now--" She nods to the stack of papers. "--well, today looks like a high bullshit tide day. But, hm. If you could have a job of your choice, what would it be? Would it be on the mark to say 'research scientist', or am I just being, er, tradition-ist?" Emma shakes her head. "Actually?" She says, in a ernest tone. "I'd split my time teaching and researching." She watches for Aster's reaction after she says that, like ready for a laugh. "For the motivated student? The one who... really gets what I'm trying to tell them? I love it. I love every second of it. I open their eyes to worlds they never dreamt of. I inspire the spark of wonder in them." She shugs. "It's just I get a lot of chaff with the wheat, and... they have me teaching *too much*." Aster's eyebrows lift with a bit of surprise in reaction to that, not a laugh. "Huh. Yeah, that makes sense. Like, I'd probably still be a programmer of some kind. Just one who works on what /she/ wants to do, not half-baked ideas from freelance clients, you know?" She slips her phone from her pocket to check the time, and sighs. "Speaking of. I should probably go back and get into it." Emma glances at her diving watch for a moment, frowning at the time. "Yeah... I should finish this stuff up too." She says, unhappily. Working a bit more on her beer, she picks up her red pen again. "Thanks for letting me pick your brain a bit about the clubhouse." Aster slides her emptied plate across the bar and finishes off her beer. She gives Emma a brief, one-armed shoulder-hug. "Any time. I'll look forward to seeing it, when it's ready to be seen."