09 - I Fix Problems Like You

                                    

                                          
 The office of Senior Induction Officer Mattise felt even more clinical than the medical bay. Not a thing out of place – all right angles and impossibly clean. A desk confronted her, gleaming with a perfectly rectangular holograph display. On it she saw two data pads; matching styluses and nothing else.
 	Weirdly austere by corp standards, she thought. The walls of the room to the left and right were filled by the rolling advertisements on one side, and the strange academy league tables on the other. Between them stood Mattise, back turned, examining something on the shining cobalt lens of his holographic visor. The glow abruptly disappeared as they entered the room.
 	"You are late, Mr Tambo." A voice like icewater. She glanced at Odiye; he twitched, standing to attention as though on a military parade ground, but didn't reply.
 	With an impossibly smooth motion, Mattise turned to face them.
 	He stood tall, his white uniform fitting immaculately to his lean frame. Equally immaculate black hair was slicked back, shining with chemicals, and Piper could see the two brass-coloured squares fitted to the man's temples where the visor would be generated. Clean-shaven, his jaw looked like it could cut throats. The visor flashed back into life again, forming a narrow screen that shielded her from Mattise's piercing grey eyes.
 	"Piper Russell," he murmured. She could see the visor flickering as her information flowed past the instructor's eyes. "Warehouse apprentice 3rd class, Modell-Maxiar Freight Solutions, Cartwright Residential Block 7538. Graduated from Cartwright/Skiltron Institute 24A with academy C-Standard qualifications. Daughter of Annabelle Russell, sister to Arden Russell. And very much not where you're supposed to be."
 	His mouth smiled, but it didn't seem to have his consent to do so. The visor vanished and Mattise wrestled his expression back into one of disinterested neutrality. Piper fought down her insults, her pride prickling at having to listen to her life distilled down into a few bland sentences by some corporate spiv.
 	"I guess not," she managed, her voice tight.
 	"Whatever the case, you are here, and you've brought a lot of questions."
 	"Yeah, I got that."
 	Mattise's brow creased. "Let me be candid with you, Ms. Russell."
 	"Don't strain yourself on my account."
 	"If you want to survive here," he continued sharply. "You would do well do think before you speak."
 	She caught Odiye's warning glance and with an effort, shut up. Mattise waited, and when she didn't goad him any further he gave a slight nod.  
 	"So we understand each other." He picked up one of the data pads and stylus from the desk and stepped around the table, thrusting them into her hands. "This is your data capture. All assignments, lesson schedules and progress reports will be uploaded automatically through the academy network. You may also use it to take notes if you feel it necessary." His strange smile flickered again. "I assure you, it will be necessary."
 	Piper looked at the data pad – a rectangular thing maybe six inches square. Emblazoned across the top of the screen was her new designation: Initiate NameLog, Russell, P – AcademyLog, Semester1.
 	Tagged and collared. The unpleasant thought forced its way into her mind. Piper shoved it back down and tried to focus as Mattise continued.  
 	"You will adhere to your schedule," he said. He opened one palm and a small holographic interface seemed to project right up out of his skin. Implants of his own, it seemed. The fingers of his other hand flickered through it and her data pad bleeped. "The things you will learn here are dangerous, for yourself and for others. I don't care how you came here, or how sorry for yourself you feel. You will listen to your instructors, you will learn, and you will apply yourself. If you do not, there will be consequences."