The Harvest Floor (Chapters 4 & 5)

Chapter 4

The money changes things.

Not everything. Not quickly. But in small ways that accumulate like interest.

Marcus moves to a two-bedroom apartment in a better complex. He furnishes Simone’s room with a real bed frame and a desk and a lamp shaped like a soccer ball. She stays with him three weekends a month now instead of two, because he can afford to pick her up.

He buys groceries without checking prices. He replaces his phone. He takes Simone to a soccer tournament in Charlotte and pays for a hotel room that doesn’t smell like mildew.

His ex-wife notices.

“You get a raise?” Jennifer asks when he drops Simone off Sunday evening.

“Promotion.”

“Good for you.” She doesn’t sound sarcastic. “Simone says you’re less stressed.”

“Working on it.”

Jennifer hesitates at the door. “She wants to go to soccer camp next summer. Two weeks, overnight, up in Virginia. It’s $3,200.”

Marcus’s first instinct is panic. His second instinct is to check his account balance mentally. $4,100 in savings. $2,500 coming Friday.

“I can cover half,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jennifer’s expression softens. “Thanks, Marcus. That’s—thank you.”

After she closes the door, Marcus sits in his SUV—his company SUV, fully covered, zero cost—and feels something unfamiliar. Not happiness, exactly. Not pride. Just… breathing room.

He drives back to his apartment and doesn’t think about the fourth floor at all.

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Chapter 5

Carl Weaver stops him between pods one night in Marcus’s fifth month.

“Can I ask you something?”

Marcus is reviewing bandwidth logs on his tablet. “Make it quick.”

“Laura Chen. Pod 23. She’s been dropping.”

Marcus pulls up her file. Chen has been donating for eight months now. Her bandwidth has declined from 67% to 58%. Still above threshold. Still cleared.

“She’s fine.”

“She’s not, though. Watch her during extraction. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. It’s like she’s not even there.”

“That’s normal for deep extraction sessions.”

“For six hours?”

Marcus closes his tablet. “Carl, I know you care about the donors. That’s good. But our job is to monitor bandwidth and maintain safety. Chen is at 58%. She’s safe.”

“What about her brother? The guy on the fourth floor?”

“What about him?”

“She visits him after every session. Did you know that? She donates, then she goes upstairs and sits with him for an hour. And he doesn’t even know she’s there.”

“That’s her choice.”

“Is it, though? Or does she need the money so bad she’ll keep donating until she ends up next to him?”

“If she drops below threshold, we’ll pull her.”

“And then what? She goes to the fourth floor and someone else sits with both of them?”

Marcus steps closer. “Are you questioning protocol?”

Carl meets his eyes. “I’m questioning whether protocol is enough.”

They stare at each other. The machines hum. Somewhere in the room, someone whimpers softly.

“Get back to your rounds,” Marcus says.

Carl leaves. Marcus stands there another minute, tablet in hand, not looking at Pod 23.

That weekend, Simone asks if she can bring a friend to dinner.

Marcus says yes and takes them to the nice restaurant with tablecloths. Simone’s friend is named Maya and she talks nonstop about soccer and school and her parents’ divorce and whether Marcus thinks Coach will let her play center mid next game.

Simone is laughing. Marcus hasn’t seen her laugh like that in months. Maybe years.

He orders appetizers and dessert and doesn’t check the price.

When he drops them off at Jennifer’s house, Simone hugs him hard.

“Thanks, Dad. Tonight was really fun.”

“Any time.”

“I mean it. You’re different now. Less… I don’t know. Less sad.”

Marcus drives home and thinks about that word. Sad. Was he sad before? Or just broke?

He doesn’t know the difference anymore.