“My dear Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth drawled with practiced patience, “I fail to see how your miraculous sunblock could possibly protect against gamma radiation.”
The year was 2157, and Elizabeth Bennett found herself in the rather peculiar position of evaluating experimental radiation protection technologies for the Lunar Colony Board. Mr. Collins, a researcher whose social ineptitude was matched only by his scientific enthusiasm, had been pestering her for weeks about his revolutionary formula.
“But Miss Bennett,” he stammered, adjusting his holographic spectacles, “the quantum nanoparticles are specifically engineered to—”
“To do what exactly?” she interrupted, her wit as sharp as ever. “Create another marketing gimmick for the privileged while our colonists suffer real radiation exposure?”
The pristine white laboratory, with its floating displays and humming equipment, felt suffocating. Elizabeth longed for the artificial gardens where she could at least pretend to breathe real air.
“I assure you, the formula is genuine,” a deep voice interjected.
Elizabeth turned to find Mr. Darcy, the enigmatic head of Pemberley Laboratories, standing in the doorway. His presence, as always, filled the room with an uncomfortable tension.
“Genuine like your company’s last three failed protection systems?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “How many colonists have to suffer before we acknowledge that profit shouldn’t drive survival technology?”
Darcy’s face remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with something—was it admiration? “Your passion for the colonists’ welfare is… admirable, Miss Bennett. However, you misunderstand our intentions.”
“Do enlighten me,” Elizabeth challenged, her fingers unconsciously playing with her atmospheric monitor bracelet.
“The formula,” Darcy stepped closer, bringing up a holographic display, “was developed using indigenous lunar minerals. Once approved, it can be manufactured locally, at minimal cost.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she studied the data. The implications were staggering—affordable radiation protection for all colonists, not just the wealthy Earth-bound tourists.
“But why keep this secret?” she demanded, though her tone had softened considerably.
“Pride,” Darcy admitted, shocking both Elizabeth and the still-present Mr. Collins. “I wanted to perfect it before facing your… scrutiny. Your reputation for protecting colonist interests is rather intimidating.”
Elizabeth felt her face flush. “Mr. Darcy, I…”
“Perhaps,” he suggested, with the ghost of a smile, “we could discuss the distribution plan over dinner? The artificial gardens are quite pleasant this time of day cycle.”
Later, as they walked among the holographic roses, Elizabeth reflected that sometimes the most genuine solutions came wrapped in the most unexpected packages—much like love in this brave new world they’d created.
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was already drafting a paper titled “The Socioeconomic Implications of Genuine Sunblock in Lunar Society: A Study in Human Evolution,” but that’s another story entirely.