Page 16 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded
I opened the message in my comm and tapped the link. I had to go through a brief authentication process, as my comm scanned my face and my master confirmed that the biometric data collected was correct. Then a projection popped up above my comm, displaying the details of my account and the amount of money available. At first glance, it seemed like a lot. But then again, the house had been rather neglected over the last year. Perhaps my master was anticipating the need for a few repairs?
“Over on the right, there’s an option to put restrictions on the account,” my master went on. “It can do things like let people set a limit on how much they can spend each month, or prevent them from buying particular types of services. Go into that section.” I obeyed, anticipating that he was going to set a limit on how much I could spend – which would be a perfectly reasonable precaution. But what he said next caught me by surprise.
“I want you to select the block on purchasing any form of alcohol.”
I glanced up at him, and then over at Aiden. It was an order, of course, so I obeyed, tapping the ‘no alcohol’ icon. Thankfully, my comm had been configured to display writing in the Eumadian script, rather than whatever script the Alliance used. I could read perfectly well, but with over three hundred different written alphabets available across the galaxy, it was impossible to know them all.
“Zeke has also blocked his own account from alcohol purchases,” Aiden filled me in, once I’d completed the process. “The ban can’t be revoked and it lasts for six months. At that point, we’ll be following up with Zeke to make sure he bans himself again. After two years, he’ll be able to put himself on a permanent ban.”
“What this means,” Zeke explained, avoiding looking at me, “is that even if I order you to buy alcohol for me, you can’t. And that’s a good thing.”
I frowned at that news. “So if you order me to buy alcohol, you want me to disobey you?”
He looked startled for a moment, and glanced at Aiden again. I wondered exactly what sort of conversation they’d been having without me. “I’m giving you long-term permission,” he said, slowly and carefully, “to disregard any order I give you about acquiring alcohol for me, whether it’s by buying it, bartering for it, stealing it, or any other means.” Well, that certainly covered all the bases. “I’m also giving you permission to disregard any order I give you to make you stop disregarding orders about alcohol.”
I had to repress a smile at that one. I understood what he was trying to do, but ultimately, it was entirely possible to logically circumvent his own attempts to block access to alcohol. But I took his point. He was trying to stop his addiction, andhe needed my help, rather than my inadvertent thwarting of his efforts.
“Yes, sir,” I said, determined to be as helpful as possible. Pointing out any potential loopholes in his logic was not what he was looking for.
But that, it seemed, was the limit of my master’s ingenuity for the moment. He looked to Aiden again. “Now what?”
“Let’s deal with the mail next,” Aiden said. “We’ll tackle the hard things first, then get to the easy ones once everyone’s tired. Give Dax access to the house messaging system.”
He did, and for the next half an hour, I was treated to an intensive education into my master’s financial and administrative affairs. He received a regular disability pension, along with a payment for my care. I wasn’t quite sure about the logic of that second one, but according to Aiden, the government understood that my master needed someone to look after him, so they were compensating him for the cost of feeding and housing me. If it meant we had extra money for better food or more repairs, I wasn’t going to argue with it.
There were various bills to be paid from time to time, regular food deliveries, medical appointments, scheduled inspections for pests; all the things I had been trained to manage during my teenage years, and I accepted the workload with a combination of relief and trepidation. The relief was because I finally had something meaningful with which to occupy my days. The trepidation was because so far, my master had been entirely unconvinced about my ability to manage such things, and I was wary of making the slightest mistake, and of him swiftly removing the responsibilities again.
I supposed that if that happened, I could call Aiden and ask him for advice, but the thought lingered, nonetheless.
“Right, the next thing is to show Dax what household chores need doing, but before we get to that…” Aiden eyed my master sternly. “We’re going to clean out your cupboards.”
This was apparently something they’d discussed beforehand, because my master slumped slightly in his seat, but nodded. He got up and headed for the kitchen, where he systematically opened every cupboard, removing every bottle of alcohol and passing them to Aiden. Aiden, in turn, poured each and every one down the sink. To be fair, there weren’t all that many – three bottles of beer, one of cider and two bottles of wine, one of them already mostly empty.
“Is that everything?” Aiden asked, when he was done.
“No,” my master said. “There’s probably some in the bedroom.” He and Aiden headed that way, and I glanced at Kade, not sure if we were supposed to follow them. He held up a hand in a ‘wait here’ gesture, and soon enough, they were back, with an empty bottle of vodka and a mostly empty bottle of whisky.
“How are you doing?” Aiden asked my master, once the last of the bottles had been disposed of.
“I feel like I’m free-falling without a parachute,” he muttered in reply.
“If you’re feeling that way, the first thing you should do is go and talk to Dax,” Aiden told him. “That’s what he’s here for.” I experienced a momentary panic at the announcement. I didn’t know anything about how to deal with my master’s mood swings. The only thing I could offer him so far was the suggestion that we go for a walk. But then Aiden continued. “I’m going to send him a number of documents with information about how to support someone with PTSD, and various people he can contact for help – your new psychologist being top of the list.” Well, that sounded more promising. Though the prospect was still rather nerve-wracking. After a year of doing very little,and being told off for most of what I did do, stepping back into the role of organiser and planner was going to be a challenge.
“So what’s your biggest concern right now?” Aiden asked, and I took careful note of the question. He was the only example I’d had so far of how to help my master.
“That you’re going to leave, and then I’ll be bored and alone, and then I’m going to start craving alcohol.”
“You won’t be alone,” Aiden reminded him, more gently than I might have expected. “Dax is here. You can talk to him. You can watch the video channels with him. You can tell him about a book you read or an interesting news article. You can complain about politics, or rant about how much you hate me. And we talked about the boredom, remember? You’re going to find a hobby. You don’t have to come up with one on the first day, but you can start looking around. Try a few different things. Contact some local community groups. But don’t just sit on your ass and think about how awful the galaxy is. That’s where the downward spiral begins.”
I took note of every detail of the conversation. My master needed to find a hobby to fill in his days. If he was too idle, I needed to help him find interesting things to do with his time. And I should start reading the news myself. If I was going to be expected to have conversations with him, it would certainly help to have something interesting to talk about.
“Yeah. Hobby. Right,” my master said. “Okay. So… let’s tackle some of the cleaning then, shall we?”
But before we could get any further, there was a knock at the front door. “That’ll be the food delivery,” Aiden said. “I took the liberty of ordering something this morning, otherwise you’d have nothing to eat until your regular delivery arrives tomorrow.”
“Right. Okay,” my master said again. “I should get that-”
Aiden stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Zeke,” he said, the word laced with hidden meaning. He then very subtly nodded in my direction. Of course, I had been trained to pay attention to the slightest nuances of pleasure or dissatisfaction from my master, so the gesture was rather obvious to me. But even so, I wasn’t sure what Aiden expected me to do…