Chapter 1: Uncalled For

  Since time immemorial, technicians of all varieties have been plagued with the problem of skill misidentification. Whether it's someone asking their Data Scientist friend to calculate the cost of "a decent gaming rig", or a Roman proprietor asking his foreign geographer buddy how many bricks he'll need to build his own bakery, all Nerds and Greeks simply must good with numbers.

Just a week ago, Samantha received a call to report to the Jupiter Research Station and figure out what was wrong with their communication systems. Being one of the main relspace retranslators in the Solar System, it was vital that all their equipment was fully operational. And, while elbow deep in corrupted data logs and outdated equipment, Sam continued the nearly five centuries old tradition of the great "printer experts" before her by being called on by the staff to check out their matter replicator as well. "We needn't bother calling for an engineer," the researchers thought, "when we have one right here!" Begrudgingly, she obliged, staying on the station for several hours longer than she had planned, being only rewarded by a freshly replicated bowl of noodles and a grey JRS-branded hoodie, which she was proudly sleeping in at this very moment.

You see, the fact that she went above and beyond in her efforts to keep the station operational (and the staff well-fed) eventually reached the engineer who was supposed to respond when JSR called for help. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he sent a request to management to transfer one of his unused days off to her, as a "thank you", of sorts. Receiving the news several days later, Samantha quickly cashed in the free bonus weekend and began drafting plans for a whole extra day of leisure.

And, precisely at 7:00 SST¹, Samantha rolled out of her bed and descended onto the carpeted flooring with all the grace of a half deflated balloon. "Computer... gravity to 100%... pleeeeeease..." she managed to groan out while laying face-down in the colourful fabric. The computer interface installed in her apartment obliged with a delighted chirp, and she felt her nose suddenly get scrunched up by the full weight of her cranium. She had tried everything — notifications, alarms, sirens, even being physically ejected from her plush-covered bedding, nothing could get her to consistently wake up on time. Nothing except for the gentle embrace of severe vertigo caused by Ganymede's natural gravity; though in the last few months, she found herself slowly getting used to that, as well.

"Good morning, Samantha," an older woman's computerized voice chimed out from the wall speakers, "you have zero new messages. The temperature outside is 20 degrees Celsius, with relative humidity levels varying from 50% to 70%. Do you wish to review unread colony news?"

While the computer talked, the woman slowly began to get on her feet, stumbling in the direction of the kitchen, with the voice following along wherever she went. "Yes, please," she answered while taking a white, powdery pill from the counter and biting it in half, thoroughly cracking it between her teeth and pouring herself a glass of water.

The computer chirped affirmatively once more. "The North Access Field is operational again. Power has been restored to the level -5 hot springs. A new art gallery themed around interspecies visual perception is scheduled to be opened at 18:00 SST. That is all."

After swirling around the cleansing foam in her mouth for about a minute, she spat it out into the metal sink and washed the rest of it out with some water. "Nice. Think there's gonna be an Utr-ka section again?"

The computer produced a slightly longer beep, indicating a query being processed. "Listed in the announcement are two independent Utr-ka artists, one Utr-ka calligrapher, and one group featuring Utr-ka classical painters, focused on accurately portraying the differences between the colour perception of various species using layered spectral deposition."

Though the thought of seeing through her skin again slightly unnerved Sam, it wasn't enough to discourage her from having breakfast. She walked up to the indented panel on the wall next to the sink and stared blankly at the terminal above the replicator. "Do you remember that... thing Yana brought over from her ship when she was here last week? It was like a chicken pie... something. Could you replicate that, please?"

After spending several milliseconds accessing replicator records, the computer received enough information to produce a replication request A plate with a delightfully smelling meal began to manifest on the panel, while the computer began to explain, "Kurnik, a rice and chicken based savory pie originating from Eastern Europe, with optional button mushrooms and a topping of chopped dill. The planetary dish of Pluto."

Humming a quiet "thank you" to the computer, Sam grabbed the plate off the pad and took the replicated fork onto her other hand. Despite being ambient temperature air just a second ago, a gentle waft of steam began to rise from the cross section of the pie slice. "While I'm hewre—" she mumbled out with her mouth full, before wisely deciding to swallow, "—please run the holographic projector test suite and if everything's fine, launch Legends of Lumb'rir and connect to the main server."

"Understood. Avoid looking into the designated holographic chamber while the self-test is running."

Sam quickly spun around in place, too focused on finishing the slice of pie in her hands to look at the strobing three-dimensional light show behind her. Although her living room could barely qualify as a "designated holographic chamber", it was still big enough for her to move around in, with the illusion of motion aided by dynamically adjusted flooring.

"Self-test complete, connection established. Enter when ready."