Circa Tempore: The Artificial Organic
Copyright© 2026 by E. B. Redfield
Chapter 10
“Complimentary champagne?” a waiter asked, holding out a tray of flutes in one hand. With a smile, Craig grabbed one and with a glance towards the women’s room, grabbed another for Kayla. They had opted to change into more club appropriate attire once they had arrived at the Gilded Roost. He tugged the sleeves of his crimson v-neck up to his elbows and smoothed out the black vest and matching pants. If there was anything he was going to miss about the future once they went home, it would be the immediattire. The shoes alone were to die for. Right now, they were crimson wingtips that fit as comfortably as a pair of sneakers.
There had been a hair grooming station in the restroom that resembled the beehive hairdryers that some salons used in their time, and it had been a lifesaver in tidying up his fade. As he checked his appearance in the gleaming gold reflection of the elevator doors near the bathrooms, he grinned at the results. His barber back home had competition. He felt a tap on his shoulder, indicating Kayla’s emergence from the restroom.
“Shit, I was about to send a search party...” Craig laughed, turning around with flutes in hand, but when he saw her, he almost dropped the drinks.
She wore a thin, strappy, emerald dress with a diamond cut in the midriff, her forearms had sheer, matching sleeves that climbed up to the elbow, held to her hand with a thin loop around her middle fingers. There must have been a hair grooming station in the women’s room as well, as her hair had been curled and pulled up in a messy bun, with two locks dangling and framing her face. She’d also done her makeup: her lips and eyeshadow now green to match the dress. Finally, she was wearing thick heels that gave her added height so that she was nearly looking Craig in the eyes.
Craig had never seen her dressed up like this before. Sure, she got a little fancy once in a while for karaoke, and she wore a little makeup to the office; but this was a transformation he hadn’t been ready for. As he took her in, his train of thought became lost in cloud of static and his face grew warm. Seeing his expression, she turned pink and looked down to the ground.
“I looked up what some popular styles are, but I might have gone overboard,” she said sheepishly, “Is it too much?”
“No, no not at all,” he replied a bit too quickly, “I mean ... shit you look great!”
“Thanks,” she said, turning nearly the color of his shirt, “You do, too.”
“Uh ... here!” he added awkwardly, holding out the flute of champagne. She eyed it with trepidation.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” she asked taking the flute from him and holding it up to her eyes as if examining it for poison.
“Aw come on,” Craig scoffed at her hesitation, “We ain’t driving tonight. We can afford to cut loose just a little bit!” She smirked, but that faded as she continued examining the drink.
“Sorry,” she explained, “I’m more worried about the drink itself. What if it isn’t safe for our digestive systems? Glyph is sleeping and we can’t ask them about it.”
Craig glanced at his own flute for a moment, then grinned at Kayla and downed it in one gulp. She looked shocked, but then she rolled her eyes and huffed. He laughed as he set the empty glass down on a counter near a slot machine.
“OK, yeah we gotta be careful,” He appealed, “But I think it’s safe to assume some things, right?”
“Like what?” Kayla inquired, raising an eyebrow. They began working their way through the Gilded Roost’s gambling floor. It was a complicated network of different games of chance speckled amidst a vast maze of slot machines. Aside from the holographic interfaces and alien designs, the machines didn’t look much different from the slots of their own time. A commotion began nearby as a kaiseichan gambler resembling a palm tree hit a large jackpot. His celebration became so rowdy that he stomped on a strange crystal pan at his feet, spilling a blue liquid everywhere.
“Damn,” the palm laughed, righting the pan with his roots, then setting them in the pan. He reached out and flagged a passing waiter, “Could I get a new drink? I’ve spilled this one.”
“Well for one,” Craig replied, turning from the commotion, “I doubt they’d serve us something that could kill us ... I mean this place is still Earth, after all. I’m guessing allergies be the main thing to watch for.”
Kayla cocked her head in thought, “Sure, but we’re not from this time. What if something that’s ok for humans now isn’t ok for us?”
“That risk ain’t as big as you’d think,” Craig replied confidently, “In the grand scheme of it all, a thousand years probably ain’t changed that much about humanity, right? Think about it, people been drinking wine and beer and pretty much anything they could ferment for all of recorded history! It’s a gamble, but,” he gestured around them, “Look where we are, right?”
Kayla opened her mouth to retort, but faltered. She then shrugged and took a sip of her drink. They continued working their way through the seemingly endless casino floor. Passaro and beijinkind waiters flew overhead with trays of food and drinks. Craig marveled at the dexterity they showed in avoiding each other in flight, never spilling a drop.
They were searching for a nightclub called, “The Fortune.” When they’d arrived at the casino, Craigh had expected it to be like the Neurasseum, where all he needed to do was think about what he wanted to find, and he would receive help or assistance. The casino didn’t have any such guidance system, which seemed intentional. If it was anything like the casinos of their time, the casino owner and managers would want people to have difficulty finding their way around, and therefore out. Another passaro waiter passed by, dropping drinks off for the denizens of a roulette table. Seizing the opportunity, Craig flagged her attention.
“Champagne?” She inquired all-too sweetly, landing next to them, holding out her tray.
“How do we get to the Fortune?” Craig asked, snagging a glass from her.
“Oh, it’s past the Odds’ End there,” She answered, pointing towards an enormous oval island bar swarming with people. “Take a left at that pillar and listen for the music,” she finished, and then flew off with her empty drink tray. Looking closer, Craig saw that there was a holographic screen above the bar that wrapped in a loop that matched the circular bar underneath it. At first glance it had looked like a menu; but upon closer inspection, he saw that it displayed multiple screenings of different sporting events (including the very race they had just attended) as well as a dynamic listing of different odds for and against the participants of the events.
The crowd around the bar teemed with excitement and frantic energy. The people shoving each other around for precious space in front of the screen of their interest. It reminded Craig of the New York Stock Exchange. The din was a chaotic mix of cheering, gasps, and wails. And though the energy was largely positive, Craig also noticed number of people who were not having a lucky day. As they passed by, he noticed a desperate human who had overstayed his welcome.
“Please just one more race!” the man begged, sweat glistening against his bald head. His broad chest and short legs made him look almost like a gorilla, “I know if I just had one more chance, I could turn this around! Please!”
“Sir, I don’t make the rules,” an attendant replied, “You’re cut off. Please leave or we’ll make you.”
“No, please!” the man pleaded, grasping at the attendant, “I need that tender!”
As soon as the man had reached for the attendant, he was tackled from above by a blur of gold and black. A passaro rooster resembling a hawk had shot down from the rafters like a sniper’s bullet; and in the blink of an eye had the man pinned to the ground, one clawed foot gripping the man’s right arm and the other pressed against his chest, the talons digging into the man’s shirt, and must have broke skin judging by the spots of blood appeared around them. The crowd around them had yelped as one, before becoming silent as the grave while the scene before them played out. The man cried in shock and pulled desperately against his captor, but this was clearly futile. The hawk barely registered the efforts as he tapped his neural band.
“Gryph Pinfeather to main office,” the hawk said, his gold and black uniform ruffling with his brown feathers, “Requesting AO-Escorts for retrieval and removal.”
Craig and Kayla watched as two cylinders raised up from out of the floor, each nearly as tall as Craig. They split vertically along a seam, revealing a hollow chamber that housed what looked like human women wearing gold jumpsuits. Their jet-black hair was cut in a pixie style, and perfectly matched each other. The women stepped out of the chambers and approached the pinned man. Each of them grabbed one of the man’s arms, and the Hawk released his grip once the women had secured theirs. The man struggled against the women, but it seemed even less effective against them. As they wheeled him around to begin marching him away, Craig looked directly into the eyes of one of the women and goosebumps crawled up his arms.
Their eyes were glassy, looking like onyx, and there was clearly no life behind them. Their faces were emotionless as they lifted the man to his feet, who was even now wailing his protest and begging for the opportunity to win back his losses. If the AO women were exerting themselves to hold him and force him away, they did not show it. Their movement was too precise as they marched him in synchronized step away from the Odd’s End and presumably to an exit. They were uncanny, and their movement made Craig’s skin crawl.
After they had passed out of sight, the hawk glanced around at the silent crowd, who all looked away from his gaze and went back to their drinks and screens. The hawk took off and flew back up to the rafters. Craig’s gaze followed him up, and he saw perched in the rafters a dozen or more passaro guards, all of whom were staring around the casino floor, ready to pounce. They hopped back and forth between rafters, following people of interest, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
“I hated everything about that,” Kayla intoned so that only Craig could hear her.
“Let’s just keep moving,” he whispered back, pushing his way through the crowd at the bar. Kayla followed close behind.
“What were those things?” Kayla asked, once they had put considerable distance between themselves and the Odd’s End. They turned left at the pillar as instructed and already could hear a fast-thumping beat to follow to the dance club.
“I dunno,” Craig replied, “I thought the security guy said they were AO, so maybe they like Glyph?”
“They didn’t look anything like Glyph, though,” Kayla shivered, “They didn’t even look alive. They gave me the creeps.”
“Yeah, I ain’t a big fan either,” Craig agreed, “Guess we best be on our best behavior.” He glanced up at the ceiling again, noting the passaro security with unease.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.