Ep. 1 - Tech MECH [Thana/Cat]

[Deleted]

//ooc// Set before A Proper Story. Soundtrack: Firefly OST - Leaving / Caper / Spaceball (1:43 - 2:39 mark)

Setting: 398 E Desert Inn Rd, Las Vegas, NV

This?

This was rock bottom.

Anything having to do with Sheila breaking down was rock bottom.

Sitting on the corner of 398 Desert Inn Road, a block away from the Vegas Strip and currently shit out of luck, Sarita McCoy played a cheery tune on an otherwise cheerless day. It was hot out, she was running out of food and water, and her Sedan was in the shop for an engine overheating. Sheila was a reliable car, and had been good to her through many trials, but she had a lot of mileage on her for a used car. Wear and tear was expected, though the $400 repair bill wasn't, and all Sarita had was $30.

The cops had already chased her out of the Strip. She'd only made about $15 there, competing with the likes of street magicians, hula-hoopers and people posing in costumes; a number of prettier women were already strumming guitars. Some had yelled at her for "being in their space", and it was either them or a disgruntled bystander who'd called the police. Sarita had left as soon as possible, not wanting to cause trouble; she'd find somewhere else to play, growing hostility towards buskers be damned.

And now, she found herself across from the Las Vegas Convention Center, playing something catchy off of the soundtrack to Firefly. The day was bustling, traffic pulling in for some kind of elaborate tech convention or another; Sarita didn't know the details, she just needed to know there were people. Alas, not many had stopped, some even giving her looks — at least she had the comfortable grass on the raised curb to sit on. Some of the Strip's performers had been standing on cement for hours, she had been told.

Hopefully, no one would give her trouble. Guitar case empty and splayed out for oncoming tips, what she had made already pocketed so she could avoid theft, the girl continued to pluck at her instrument.

[Deleted]

As loathe as Thana was willing to admit to anyone, much less herself, she hated the dry heat of the western part of the United States. The relentless sunlight pressed at her from all angles, reflecting off the baked concrete and asphalt reminding her of her father's kiln. There in the dappled shade of the forest surrounding her home, she'd watched him lovingly stoke a searing fire for hours to bake his wares and had never understood. What drove a man to dedicate his free time and energy into an art that he didn't even profit off of?

Even at such a young age, Thana had never been gifted with the imagination to create something of her own. The diligent guidance of her father's large hands over her tiny fingers, dragging the glazed laden brush along soft clay, never stirred so much as casual interest in the steel trap of her mind. The skill it took to shape a bowl on a rotating pedestal was a challenge and nothing more.

The drive to the conference center had been irritating for the traffic and the heavy threat of having to leave the air conditioned space of her car. The sleek, black vehicle was low profile around the less than modest traffic drawn to the convention like flies to sorghum. Luckily parking was less of an issue with valets sorting the chaos. A dry breeze stirred her hair around her face, temporarily sticking to the scarlet lipstick, as she climbed out of the car.

She cut an interesting, if not intense, profile against the mundane backdrop of the convention center. Spine stiff, as if she could win the battle against the heat through sheer willpower, and her head slightly tilted back as if to look down on anyone around her. At odds with the dominating demeanor was the rather plain, flowing white pantsuit and simple silver jewelry that caught the sunlight like a stab of light.

As her vehicle was escorted away into the entirely young hands of the valet, she glanced around with wary calm as if inspecting a battlefield rather than a parking lot. With the slightest eyebrow quirk, she took in the multiple "entertainers" on the sidewalks and walkways.

[Deleted]

In late morning in the glittering mirage that was Las Vegas, the streets were already packed. Catherine had stepped (more like driven) out of the African evening and into the Mojave morning just a few hours prior, and astride her ATV she drove the rest of the way in to thoroughly enjoy her day (weekend) off. Despite packs of children and tourists, she had a grim determination to fill out her shopping list — new tech to add to her gear, networking, scoping out the new tech hitting the markets and seeing just how much wool the latest tech Empires had to pull over the public’s eyes. Oh yes. With a pocket full of allowance courtesy of Cleaver, she was fully prepared to drop some dollars and take some notes.

The LV Tech Convention was a pretty big deal, and the neighboring hotels were housing all the latest prospects and billionaire triumphs waiting to make the next big impact on the world. Some of the smaller tech shows were in the convention centers of the hotels themselves, but the main attractions, the Big Guns were in the Convention center itself.

It was to that one that Catherine headed to now, dodging past bodies of people weaving their way in and out of cars. Down the sidewalk the scent of sunscreen was a thick cloud that might have been suffocating if not for the gentle breeze that wound its way through the park and buildings, but it could do nothing for the neon colors of fanny packs and visors that made her question whether or not she accidentally ‘bridged back to the 90’s. At the very least, the street performers were out and about, which helped mask the noise of said tourists complaining about the heat.

For her part, all she needed was a cup of DQ — growing up and Brooklyn, spending her summers in Italy and now living in Africa, she was doing pretty okay. The only down side was that now she had to actually sit among them before she could enter the Convention Center’s main attractions… and she loved her ice cream too much to just throw it away. So she’d suffer, and pick a spot that wasn’t over flowing with cameras and tennis shoes and… ah. There’s a space.

Under some shade of a tree and cool grass was space enough to sit, and located conveniently next to a performer who could drown all of the noise out. That’s where Catherine meandered over, not showing much attention past the nod she gave when she dropped some cash into the case. “Mind if I sit? I’ll be gone in a minute.” She said… not that she waited for an answer anyway. Plopping down some feet away (she had the courtesy not to disturb the performance) she propped her elbows on her knees and scoped out the crowd. Techies moved in packs of 3-5, the owners and CEO’s already inside, and investors were well-dressed and barely outside of valet— “Oooh, someone’s going to get an investor today.” She mumbled to herself, eyeing a woman in a white suit. She was probably an agent in a Bond movie. Or looked like she was about to buy out something like Google. Probably both.

[Deleted]

"Mind if I sit?"

Sarita's fingers froze in mid-pluck, the woman's head turning abruptly towards Catherine. The surprise on her face melted away into appreciation as money was plinked into her guitar case; Sarita appreciated the stranger's good courtesy. "Not at all, señorita," she said, polite and warm as always, the tone meant to envelop and welcome even the strangest of strangers. Her fingers returned to their plucking, the busker aiming for something a bit more relaxed and playful. It fit the casual air that the newcomer radiated, and that tired but purposeful slouch that loosened the more she ate. Ice cream had that effect on people in such heat.

Soundtrack: The Horse Whisperer Original Score - Lazy J

"Oooh, someone’s going to get an investor today," said the woman, causing Sarita's eyes to wander from the roads leading elsewhere. It didn't take her long to spot the bedazzled woman, her pantsuit shimmering white, her silver glinting the chrome of some of the more expensive cars that were pulling in. Sarita's fingers never stopped working the chords, but she gave a quiet, "Mhm," in response to what the stranger had addressed.

And then she realized she wasn't being polite. Looking down at her company, Sarita asked, "Any requests for today's music, señorita?"

[Deleted]

Even through the banter and clutter of the irritating tourists, Thana caught the start of the conversation and had the merest hint of a smirk just turning up the corner of her mouth. As much clout as Silas was gathering under him, she doubted he'd give her the cash to buy Google. But the surveillance that site could provide alone would be worth its weight in gold. And that was to say nothing of the power one could have over controlling information.

Unfortunately, as they were privately funded, MECH had to rely on smaller methods to gain their gear. Such as coaxing budding scientific minds into their fold. Which was exactly what Thana had in mind for this conference. Of course she was interested in the tech on display but it was the mind-power behind the creations that were the most valuable. Anything could be bought but a gifted mind was to be valued as a rare asset.

She gave the two women a polite, if not brief, once-over and turned to head inside. Never could it be said that Thana was a social butterfly. During the best of times and the liveliest of debates, the woman kept her mouth sealed until Silas prodded her to speak. The only time she could be considered "chatty" would be when she was donning the role of recruiter. Which, in a way, she was at the convention for. However, she doubted the two ladies sitting in the shade were part of the convention's exhibitors. She just couldn't waste the false cheer on them.

She took one step, intent on leaving the two to their idle chatter, and snapped the heel of her rather tall shoe and stumbled with an embarrassing lack of grace. Luckily, she didn't go down on her hands and knees but she did end in an awkward kneeling position after the small misstep. Judging from the stinging from her knee, she was going to put a small wager on her either bruising the joint or scraping the flesh and bruising.

I just bought this suit. She thought with the irritated inner buzz of a wasp. This is the last time I wear this brand of shoes. As soon as the convention was over with and she had the time, her entire closet would be emptied of the offending line of footwear.