One Square Centimeter of Nothing

It wasn’t that Jersey loved her tiny flat; in fact, she wasn’t even that fond of it, but it was home. The artificial gravity was glitchy, it took forever to get hot water from the tap, power outages were a monthly occurrence, and the recycler hadn’t worked for months. Still, the idea that a faceless corporation could take it away from her made her angry.

She marched through the station, strawberry blonde curls bouncing around her pale, pink-cheeked face, headed for the administration office. In her hand she clutched a data cube with her lease agreement, payment history, and every other bit of data she felt was relevant.

A detailed plan for the upgrades to the station was plastered to the front window of the offices, below the sign that read, “Under New Management!” Jersey growled at the sign’s forced jocularity.

She pushed through the door. “Kai, we have a problem,” she said.

The young woman at the reception desk looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Kai is no longer here. He chose to move on after the sale. My name is Ana. How can I help you?”

Jersey took a deep breath to calm herself. The raven-haired young woman before her with black eyes flashing from a golden-brown face was not to blame. “What gives your bosses the right to break my lease agreement?” she asked, holding the data cube up.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to talk to one of the officers, I can set up an appointment for you. I’m just the receptionist.”

“Can I just sit here and wait?”

“If you’d like,” Ana said, tapping away at her console. “The earliest appointment I can get for you is at 16:00 today, unless you’d like to come back tomorrow morning.”

Jersey groaned, trying to hold in a complaint. “Sixteen works. I’ll be back then.”

“Your name?”

“Jersey Mickle, flat 1423.”

“Thank you. See you this afternoon.”

Jersey made her way to the cargo docks, hoping to pick up a half shift to keep her occupied. It was busy that morning, so she thought her chances were good. She waved the foreperson over.

“You looking for a shift?” the short, stocky woman asked. Her reddish-brown hair was mostly stuffed under a hard hat, her light brown eyes hidden behind safety glasses, but her warm brown arms were exposed from the shoulders to the tops of her heavy gloves.

“Hey, Lia, have a half shift I can grab? I have an appointment at sixteen.”

“Did you sign with Taro Group?”

“What?”

“Since TG bought the station, if you want to keep working on the station you have to sign an employment agreement with them.”

“But the docks are Stellar Freight. Did their lease get broken, too?”

“No, TG bought Stellar as part of the deal.” Lia leaned in close. “They bought out all the independent vendors, too. The chains are staying, but all the small shops, and both bars are closing.”

“I’m not signing anything until I figure out where I’m going to live.”

Lia’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, are you in The Thousands?”

“Yeah. The flat where I grew up, and they say I have fifteen days to vacate.”

“I heard about that. They’re saying that whole section of the station is going to be ripped out and replaced. If you’re going to stay, you should check out the flats in The Downs.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jersey knew that the flats in The Downs were far beyond her means. “I’ll spend the day trying to figure out what to do next, I guess.”

Lia put a hand on Jersey’s arm. “If you’re going to stay, you should sign on soon. If you’re not, then I hope you’ll stop by to see me before you leave. Flat 77 in The Downs.”

“Will do.” Jersey waved at a worker that was trying to get their attention. “It looks like you’re needed. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Jersey walked back to the station’s main promenade. She walked past the shops she’d grown accustomed to, owned by people who were, if not friends, at least acquaintances. Most had a “going out of business” sign. The bakery, however, had a different sign.

“Armando’s Bakery is closed. Future site of PanStar Cafe and Bistro.”

Armando’s is closed, and they’re putting another PanStar in, she thought. As if three on the station wasn’t too many already.

The confectioner’s was open and Jersey wandered in. The tall, rail-thin man behind the counter greeted her. “Hallo, Jersey! You need some sweets today?”

“Morning, Moussa. I don’t know if need sweets.”

Moussa frowned. Creases formed on his forehead, dark brown eyes squinting amid his mahogany face. “You look sad. I think maybe you do need sweets.” Just as quickly as he had frowned, his broad smile returned. “Yes. Sweets to make you feel better!”

“How can you be so chipper? We’re all being evicted so some big corporation can turn the station into some sort of fake paradise or something.”

He leaned over the counter. “I’m chipper, because I refuse to be angry or sad. I’ll open a new shop on Mars; already have a lease signed. Besides, I charged Taro with a huge amount for breaking my five-year lease three years early. They were happy to settle rather than go to court.”

“The other shops have done the same?”

He nodded. “They were very generous, since they were breaking our business and home leases.”

“I hope they’ll do the same for me,” Jersey said, though she doubted it.

“You live in The Thousands, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How long has your gravity been messed up? Or your water? Or electricity?”

“At least a year,” she said, “maybe longer.”

“Maybe you can get a refund to go with your lease buyout.”

“What lease buyout? All I got was a notice that I had fifteen days to vacate, and a notice that the entire section of the station was condemned.”

Moussa looked serious for a moment, then nodded. “All right. I know what you need.” He pulled out a small bag, filled it with an assortment of candies and handed it across the counter to her.

“How does that help?”

He smiled. “It doesn’t fix anything except your mood,” he said, “and a good mood will help your negotiations.”

“Thanks, Moussa. How much?”

“Nothing today. Special 100 percent eviction discount…only for friends.”

Jersey wandered the station for hours, finally settling into a chair in the administrative office at 15:30. She took her time with the sweets, letting them melt on her tongue and savoring each. She’d only made it halfway through the bag.

When the time for her appointment rolled around, Jersey was ushered into the administrator’s office. The colorful mural that had been taken up three walls of the office was covered in a pasty off-white, faint hints of the darkest areas of the mural showing through.

Everything about the small, frazzled man at the desk was beige. Beige skin, mousy hair, light brown eyes, and a rumpled beige suit. He gestured at the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

“How am I supposed to—,” she began before he cut her off.

“Ms. Mickle, I’m David Smith from the Taro Group’s property management division. I’m aware of your situation…everyone in the Thousands, really…and very sorry about it. We’re doing all we can, but our hands are tied.”

“Tied how?”

“When TG bought the station and the leases, the courts wouldn’t allow Bakshi Enterprises to sell the leases in the portion of the station where you live.” He slid a data gem across the desk to her. “Those leases were found to be in violation of Federal housing law, as those flats have been deemed unfit for habitation.”

“And yet you bought the station and are now evicting me with eight months left on my annual renewal lease. I grew up in that flat, and between my mother and I, we’ve paid enough rent to buy it outright four or five times…if they’d have let us.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where is your mother?”

“You know the big oak in the park?” she asked. “Her ashes are buried there. But I guess I won’t get to visit her anymore, either, since you’re evicting me.”

“Read the eviction notice closer,” he said. “Taro Group is not evicting you; the court is. Since we were unable to buy the leases, you’ll have to go to court to get Bakshi to reimburse you. This gem has a copy of the court documents, including the judgement of the court that Bakshi has to reimburse all the leases in that section of the station in full.”

“Well, that at least gives me something to buy a ticket to somewhere else, I guess. Not sure where to go, though. This is my home.”

David sighed a heavy sigh. “You can take this to civil court, but it’ll be tied up for years. In the meantime, Bakshi has already filed for bankruptcy, so I doubt you’ll get anything out of it.”

“Are there any available flats elsewhere on the station? Ones that I could maybe afford?”

“If you sign on with TG, you should be able to keep your job, at the same pay. It looks like we have a five-room flat on deck seven, just below the promenade deck, or a three-room on level nine.”

“My job doesn’t pay enough to live in The Downs. Why do you think I live in The Thousands? Anything in the outer ring?”

“Sorry, those are the only open flats at this time.”

Jersey noticed the dark rings under his eyes, and realized he’d probably been going through this exact song and dance all day. Her vision swam behind tears that threatened to fall. The sweet taste of the candies had left a film on her tongue and all she tasted was despair. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anywhere to go and can’t afford a ticket to get there.”

David retrieved a chit from his desk drawer and handed it to her. It was embossed with the seal of the Federal Government and had a small data chip embedded. “This is a housing emergency pass,” he said. “A troop carrier is stopping tomorrow afternoon for refueling, then heading to Mars. This will get you on the ship and they’ll let you out there. It’s not the best place to go, but there’s always work there, at least, and Federal subsidy housing.”

“And if I don’t go on the ship?”

“If you’re still here after the eviction date, you’ll be taken into police custody for trespass.” He looked at her with tired eyes. “There’s three-hundred and nine of you that are being displaced,” he said, “and so far, I’ve only talked to twenty-seven…including you.”

“Where else will this get me?” she asked, holding the chit up.

David typed at his console and read for a few quiet moments. “After the troop carrier tomorrow, there’s a government passenger vessel bringing an inspector at the end of the week. It has room for six more passengers and is going to…Mars afterward.”

He typed some more. “The only other government vessel stopping by before your eviction date is a cargo carrier, heading to Luna. No passengers allowed.” He turned off his console. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mickle, but I think your only option is the troop carrier to Mars.”

Jersey stood and set the half bag of candy on the desk. “You can have those.” She crossed the office to the door and stopped. “I miss it already.”

“The station?”

“My flat. Yeah, it’s dim and dingy, it takes forever to get hot water, the gravity goes weak all the time and the electricity is hit and miss…but it was home. I grew up in those twenty-two square meters, and I was happy for it. I had twenty-two square meters of crap to myself, and now I have,” she held up the chit, “one square centimeter of nothing.”