Edrig looked at Adrig sitting opposite him in the rather posh saloon bar and admired his elder colleague's fine light grey suit and purple open-neck shirt. Adrig's hair had been cut to about an inch and slicked back smooth, giving him an air of aged refinement. Edrig, quite similarly attired and also with what hair he had cut back, considered how far they had come since, together with Macrig, they had developed their business of simple machinery that to the denizens of 717 would seem like magic. Simple machinery that could weave notes and coins from the garbage they collected from many businesses in their van. Not genuine notes and coins, of course, but so perfectly passable that none had ever been detected, thus far. And the good people of 717 actually paid them to collect the raw materials too!
"Fraudsters," Edrig said, cradling his beer glass in his hand. "Fraudulent counterfeiters and crooks. Baddies. Criminals..."
"Huh?" said Adrig.
"That's what we have become," said Edrig. "Crooks, criminals, thieves."
"Do we do any harm, my boy?"
"That's debatable," Edrig replied.
"Do we hurt anybody?"
"No, we don't hurt anybody."
"Well drink up then," Adrig commanded, "and buy me another one."
"You've had enough."
"I know I have. That is why I want another one."
"Hah! You never change."
And Adrig shrugged a little and smiled at that, while Edrig stood up and walked towards the bar, pulling out his wallet stuffed full of mostly fake cash.
When Edrig returned with the beers Adrig looked across at him and said, "That's it. I have decided."
"Decided what?" Edrig asked.
"Decided what my decision is."
"About my plan."
"You have a plan?" Edrig asked, with a note of concern in his voice.
"I have a plan," said Adrig.
"Uh oh," was Edrig's only response.
(The first phase of our superior beings' adventures on their Sample 717 - your home - can be found in print and for e-reader by clicking here).