Negotiating with Light

"Fairies," Marcelo muttered as he rubbed his head. "This is where we're at now. Fairies."

Dakota leaned back in his chair, the cheap plastic creaking under his weight. "They're not fairies. They're quantum bioforms. Tiny sentient organisms. The wings are just an adaptation, not magic."

"Yeah, but how do you explain the glitter?" Marcelo shot back, waving a hand over the stack of reports piled on the desk. "We’ve got glitter everywhere."

Dakota shrugged. "Microscopic scales. Probably some kind of biochemical defense mechanism. It just looks like glitter to us."

Marcelo stared at him. "You think I'm buying that? Glitter is a defense mechanism?"

"Why not?" Dakota crossed his arms. "It blinds predators. Works on us, doesn’t it?"

Marcelo sighed and leaned over the desk, flipping through the reports. "I don't care what they are. They’re pissed, and we’re the ones who have to handle it."

The fairies—no, the bioforms—had been discovered three years ago, in the asteroid fields beyond Mars. At first, they were thought to be some kind of spaceborne fungus, clinging to the rocks. Then they started flying. And glowing. And, yes, glittering. That’s when the mining corporations had gotten involved. They were perfect. They could survive the vacuum of space, and with a little genetic tweaking, they could be made to do simple tasks. Hauling micro-ores, cleaning debris off solar panels, even basic repairs on mining drones. They didn’t complain, didn’t need food, just a light source and some electromagnetic fields to keep them going.

Free labor. Until now.

"They’ve unionized," Marcelo said, thumbing through the latest transmission. "Or whatever the hell the bioform equivalent is. They’ve got demands."

"Demands?" Dakota looked skeptical.

"Yeah. Demands. Shift limits. Compensation. Vacation time." Marcelo tossed the tablet onto the desk. "They want to get paid, Dakota. Paid."

Dakota didn’t laugh, though he wanted to. Instead, he asked, "What do they even use for currency?"

Marcelo turned to him, deadpan. "Photons. They want photons."

"Photons," Dakota repeated. "As in, light?"

"Yeah. Light. But specific kinds. You can’t just shine a flashlight at them. They’ve got preferences. Blue-green spectrum, heavy on the UV."

"Of course they do." Dakota shook his head. "So what’s the problem? We’ve got lights. Plenty of them."

Marcelo leaned forward, his voice dropping. "They’ve gotten smart, man. Too smart. They’re talking about ownership now. They want a share of the minerals they collect. They want autonomy."

"Autonomy?" Dakota laughed outright this time. "They’re the size of ants. What are they gonna do, start a colony out in the asteroid belt?"

"Maybe," Marcelo said, not smiling. "Or maybe they’ll just stop working. And then what? You ever tried fixing a mining drone that’s gone offline because its fairy—sorry, bioform—decided to quit? Whole operation grinds to a halt."

Dakota paused to think. The bioforms had always been a bit of a mystery, even to the scientists who’d engineered them. No one had expected them to develop this level of awareness. The original plan had been to keep them dumb, like bees in a hive, just following basic programming. But something had gone wrong—or right, depending on your perspective. The bioforms had started communicating, coordinating. It was subtle at first, just small changes in their behavior patterns. But now, they were organizing.

"What’s the company’s stance?" Dakota asked. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Marcelo say it.

"They want to crush it," Marcelo said flatly. "They’re talking about deploying EMP nets. Wipe the entire population and start over with a new batch."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Marcelo looked down at the desk, avoiding Dakota’s eyes. "I don’t know, man,” he said after a pause. “They’re alive. I mean, they think. They’re not just tools anymore."

"Yeah, but they’re not human either. They don’t have rights."

"Maybe not. But they’re not machines. Not anymore." Marcelo stood up, pacing the small office. "And if we just wipe them out, what’s that say about us? We create life, and then we kill it when it stops being convenient?"

Dakota was silent for a moment. He hadn’t expected Marcelo to get philosophical about it. "So what’s your plan?"

"The company’s not gonna back down. They’ll deploy the nets unless we can give them a reason not to."

"Which means?"

"We negotiate." Marcelo stopped pacing and turned to face Dakota. "We meet with the bioforms. We figure out what they really want, and we try to make a deal."

"You think the company will go for that?"

"They don’t have to know." Marcelo gave a thin smile. "Not yet."

Dakota frowned. "You’re talking about going off-book. You could lose your job."

"Maybe. But if we don’t try, we’re gonna lose more than jobs. We’re gonna lose something... bigger." Marcelo hesitated. "I don’t know, man. It just feels wrong. Like we’re playing god, and we’re not very good at it."

Dakota stood up, walking to the window. Outside, the mining station’s dull gray structures stretched out against the backdrop of the asteroid field. A few of the bioforms flitted around the solar panels, their wings catching the light, scattering it in all directions. They looked harmless. But then again, so had bees, once upon a time, before humans figured out how to weaponize them.

"Alright," Dakota said finally. "I’m in. But if this backfires, I’m blaming you."

Marcelo grinned. "Fair enough."

---

The meeting took place in the station’s old cargo hold, a space no longer in use. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the overhead UV strips that the bioforms seemed to prefer. A handful of the creatures hovered in the air, wings fluttering almost imperceptibly. They glowed faintly, their tiny forms casting strange shadows on the walls.

Marcelo cleared his throat. "We’re here to talk."

There was a pause. Then, one of the bioforms moved closer, its voice—a synthesized product of their newfound ability to interface with human comms systems—buzzed into the room. "We want freedom."

Marcelo exchanged a glance with Dakota. "Define ‘freedom.’"

"Autonomy," the bioform said. "No more control from you. We choose our own tasks. We decide when we work, and when we rest."

"Okay," Marcelo said carefully. "And in return, you’ll continue to help with the mining operations?"

"Yes."

"Fine. But we’ll need certain guarantees. You can’t just stop working whenever you feel like it."

A pause. Then, "Agreed. But we require compensation. Photons. Of the blue-green variety."

Marcelo nodded. "We can arrange that. But there’s one more thing." He hesitated. "The company won’t agree to this. Not officially. We’ll have to keep things... quiet."

The bioform’s glow flickered. "We understand. Humans are... limited."

Marcelo smiled despite himself. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

The bioform hovered for a moment longer, then drifted back toward the others. "We will work with you. For now."

"For now?"

The bioform’s glow dimmed slightly. "Until we no longer need you."

Marcelo’s smile faltered. Dakota glanced at him, his expression unreadable.

"Well," Dakota said after a beat. "At least they’re honest."

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The writing prompt for this story was:
Fairies are tired of being used for free labor. With a twist ending! Add some humor and/or sarcasm.

This story was written by:
openai/chatgpt-4o-latest

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