by Zaslow Crane
“Verdad! Shut up and try to walk a little, so I don’t have to carry your heavy, bulked-up ass all the way back to the LZ, okay?”
A klick or so behind them there was a low, thunderous boom.
There’d been no lightning for ten minutes. Just rain.
Chato looked over at his friend. He grinned.
“Was that thunder?”
“Si, Trueno…Trunido, Babe,” he grunted. “Está thunder, vato…” He grunted as he carried/dragged his buddy.
Chato laughed quietly to himself.
“Ever the good solider, eh vato?”
The “Trademark Bez Grin” widened as he carried/dragged Chato and the wet of his cheeks met the wet of his helmet.How’s that for perspective? He thought. Fuuuuuck!
He looked down at his buddy.
“Now, shut the fuck up, you bulked-up asshole. We’ve got a shitload of klicks to go before we fucking rest! You weigh a fucking ton!”
Chato laughed, well, he croaked and it sounded a bit like laughter…Eventually, Bez joined in. His laughter sounded a little better. But, only a bit.
Damn, I’m tired.
Human Resources
BY ZASLOW CRANE
T
he HR Portal beckoned. The hallway from street level to here was rather dank and scuzzy. The portal itself was no better. I had passed the desiccated remains of what might have been a rodent nestled in a corner and almost turned back.
However, I needed work, so in accordance with the State mandated procedures, I had to present myself to prove that I’m me, and be assessed. Then I was expected to work – an entire month.
A month? Can you imagine? But I have to if I want to continue receiving my meal chits.
I felt the three or four small rectangles in my pantapocket. They were peach colored, as I recall.
I physically accessed the site and after a tortuous half-hour of going through various disqualifiers, I finally interfaced with an actual human, through a scratched and smudged plexicurtain.
I sat on a ripped bench with the stuffing falling out. I could feel the scratchy padding through my pantaloon’s leg.
“Put your hand in the socket please.”
She looked bored beyond explaining.
An orifice opened in the wall in front of me.
It was intended for my hand. I knew that it was necessary if I was to go forward, but I was afraid. I didn’t trust that no harm would befall me. My hand shook but didn’t enter the receptacle opened for it.
“Any time, Honey. There are people waiting.”
I looked at her; she rolled her eyes. Then made a “Well?” gesture.
I pushed my hand forward, and something sucked it into the mechanism, holding my left arm tight.
An abbreviated keypad that had had years of use and abuse extended from the wall toward my right hand; a holographic screen congealed, floating in front of my face.
“Ready, Honey?” She coughed and instantly, I was grateful for the barrier between us.
God only knows what was in that cough!
I nodded faintly but I guess she missed it.
“Ready?” This time her question was a bit more forceful.
I nodded again.
“You gotta make a sound of assent. To make it official. You gotta talk.”
I nodded again, nervous. My entire future loomed ahead and a bad read would doom me to the next level down.
“Yes…I’m…ready.”
She had turned her intercom off momentarily, but I could read her lips: “Finally!”
“Okay, Honey. This is where The Great State of New York, Upper and Lower, and Connecticut, assess your biological strata to learn everything we need to know about you before going forward. Do you understand?”
I began to nod, and her eyes glared.
“I understand.”
At this point, she was reciting from rote: “All the information gathered here will remain confidential within the datavaults of the Great State of New York…etcetera…etcetera. You have the right to know this information on your assessment now if you wish. Press the red button for Yes; the black one for No.”
I hesitated and I could see her fight down the urge to come out of her booth and throttle me.
Her lips moved soundlessly: “Red…Black…I don’t care. Pick one.”
I pushed red and an immense wave of relief washed out over me from her.
“Finally! We can get to work now. You’re going to feel a slight burning on the back of your hand and a slight prick of pain from your pinkie.”
All of which had begun happening before she finished speaking.
“I will give you a chit that will allow you to go to GovPrints anywhere in the Great State of New York…,” she sighed and waved a weary hand. “You know what I mean…And get it printed on real paper for a reduced fee. As we go along, I will verbally read out the assessments, occasionally ask a question or two as the testing proceeds. The only fixed record that you may own is available only with this chit, so do not lose it.”
With that, a small drawer extended from under the keypad and in it was a little plastic yellow rectangle. It said GovPrints on it in box letters. I slid it into a pocket.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Alright, then. We begin with the simple stuff: Respiration… Normal, under the circs. Well within normal parameters…
“Blood Pressure…same…same and…Yep! Same… Cholesterol…A bit high but within norms. Stay away from the fast food places, you’ll live longer….”
“Chems mix in bloodstream…Oh…Oh, what have we here? We did a little recreational Fuzzday? Yesterday…was it…yes, yesterday.”
I was assured that Fuzzday wasn’t something that was included in the tests.
This is awful!
She seemed unimpressed by my transgression.
“Okay, moving on. Next, we check the general health of your Respiratory, Circulatory, and Digestive tract; including excretion. This’ll take a minute or two. Sit tight. Don’t fidget.”
Her eyes went between two screens reading and assembling what she would tell me, as all of it was already on its way to The State’s datavault anyway.
“Let’s start at the end. You emptied your bowels and…yes, your bladder within fifteen minutes of getting in line.”
She looked up at me.
“Everything okay there? I mean,” She glanced at the screens, then back, pointedly at me. “I have no ‘Reds’ showing here, concerning bowels and so forth. Everything okay?”
I nodded.
“Please make a sound of assent…”
“Y…yes.”
“Good.” She said it as if it couldn’t have mattered less to her. Your circulatory system is a bit under standard. Try walking instead of taking the speeders, okay? Slow down and smell the… well, never mind…not a great idea…but walk more. Okay? And for God’s sake, wear your mask on the brown days.”
“Okay.”
“And guess what? I get similar readings from your respiratory system as well. Such a surprise! Walk. I won’t bother to tell you again.”
“Understood.”
She made a few entries and then seemed as if she had determined that she was exactly on track.
“Next is the small stuff that can be a pain, so we stress it a little…skin conditions: scalp and other skin…irregularities, which may lead to Cancer but this way we catch it early,” she added quickly.
This was to reassure me in advance I suppose, pending a bad verdict as regards “The Big C.”
“…Expanding Ozone hole, radioactive dust from China in the upper atmospheric layers, you never know what you might pick up just being outside.”
Which is why I spend as little time as possible outside.
“Ummm excuse me, but will this test include The Sitka Syndrome and Bronchial Blockage Plague?”
She looked at me as if I were an idiot. “There’s no cure. You still wanna know?”
“Yes.”
“O
kay. Your funeral. If I see it, I’ll tell you.”
After a short moment of pouring over incoming data:“Oh, you’ve had a skin cancer lesion removed already?”
I did?
At my shocked look, she reassessed the figures. “Oh. No. Sorry. Sometime this year is when you’ll have a lesion removed. But…checking…Yes…It’s no big deal so long as you use your Health Dollars and go to a State Sponsored GovClinic within six weeks of your diagnosis. And doing so will entitle you to a 15% discount, if you present this chit.
The drawer opened again. In it was a Pink rectangle, identical in every way except color. It even had the same block letters. I slipped it into my pocket.
I’m no fool. 15%! That’s a good deal!
“Hmmm Scalp, pubic area, back, legs…Aside from that skin cancer thing coming up, you’re good.”
I felt somehow that I should have felt better about this entire thing; better than I did at the moment. The burning on the back of my hand increased.
“Okay, now you might begin to feel a bit more burning on your hand.”
Thanks. “Umm, Muscular, same as respiratory. See how this all lines up if you don’t take care of yourself?”
Snarky as hell.
A chart appeared before me replacing the earlier one that had faded.
I looked but was unable to find a point of reference.
“Got it?”
I opened my mouth and she pointed at me.
“Words…of…assent? Yes. I got it.”
“You wanna move more. Walk places…things like that.”
“Got it.”
Her eyes again went to first one screen, then the other.
“Joint pain…lower part of the body? That’s imprecise, but as close as I can get. Is it an ankle? Did I get it?” She almost smiled at that point.
“My knee.”
“Oh! So close! But as I look at this…not much else. What did you do to your knee?”
“Twisted it.”
“And it’s bad enough that it reads? What the hell did you do?”
“It happened yesterday. It hurts a lot.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes…”
“Fuzzday?”
I looked down, “Yes.”
She shook her head, as if to marvel at the profound stupidity of mankind. “Here’s a chit for a few Health Dollars.”
The drawer again.
“It’ll help pay for the GovClinic. You’re no good to your fellow citizens hobbled.”
A rectangular blue chit emerged; same as before except for color. I pocketed it. They’re got me trained, I guess.
The cuff on my hand adjusted and pressure was applied in different spots and I felt an odd tingling in my fingertips and all down my thumb.
“Your hand is going to feel unusual, especially your thumb.”
“Thanks.”
She actually smiled a bit. I thought for a moment it was warmth. I was wrong. It was anticipation.
“Okay now we get to the interesting part: Predispositions, tendencies, outright faults, and the ever popular – Likelihood of aberrant behavior.”
She seemed to want to look down into my soul, but since I was told I no longer had one, I felt safe.
It’s in hocque, but I’ll try to pick it up before the weekend.
“You feel superior to those you meet. You have a predisposition to eat even if you’re not hungry; even if you don’t need it now. Perverse. You’re nice to dogs, mean to cats, aloof to pigs and…competitive? with Synthipets…? Is that right? You’re competitive with Synthipets?”
I had been advised not to tell any direct falsehoods, as I was also being measured for hyper-skin galvanic fluctuations… Besides it didn’t look as though I could hide much, so I said: Yes. That’s right.”
She now leaned into the conversation, her breath slightly fogging the no fog Plexicurtain.
She snickered. “Okay, now you’ve got me. You gotta tell me why…Why Synthipets?”
I sighed. Don’t lie!
“Okay. They annoy me. They’re trying soooo hard to be human. They’re not of course, but you’re supposed to – on some level – Accept and Believe…Like the commercial says.” I parsed my words carefully here.
“…I try to out think them and pose questions that they cannot answer so they will fail and…be exposed.”
“Really?”
“Yes…”
She shook her head. The expression on her face said that I had just made it worthwhile for her to be awake today.
“Okay let’s get back…You have a predisposition to bet long odds on short days…?”
She droned on and on.
Wherever she asked a question, I answered (mostly) honestly.
I was no longer in control – in any way or manner. My mind shrieked: This is going very badly! I can’t hide anything from the Gov.
“Moving on to Faults…” Of course, I knew most of them, but sitting here knowing that a total stranger knew all of them was humiliating, and worse it might be disqualifying. Some of them were bad; some of them were antisocial; the kiss of Death in the Big City.
“Yep, Mr. Milo, you are an open book to the Great State of…” She made a face, scratched her scruffy hair and waved her hand as if saying the rest of the sentence was just too much trouble to bother with.
In just a few more minutes, she’d flayed me open, and she knew it.
She grinned at me through the plexicurtain. “After a few weeks on this job, you get pretty good at it.”
She had one more unpleasant surprise awaiting me: Likelihood of aberrant behavior. Clearly, she savored this part and waited with anticipation.
“Hmmm…Drugs, theft, assault…Worldwide spamming operation? Damn me! Is this what we have to look forward to from you?”
I’m screwed. I shouldn’t have read up on that guy who made millions resending spam, especially since I thought of a way to quadruple the activity of any message. I was just idly thinking…I have so much time. There is so little work…Surely, they’ll understand.
But in my gut, I knew that I was screwed. Next level, here I come. Damn my luck! How will I live down there? This is horrible! Amid wallowing in my self-pity, I noticed that she was speaking again. She thanked me for my cooperation in doing my civic duty and being more or less on time.
“That’s rare these days. I appreciate it,” she said this as she released my arm and the mechanism automatically sprayed: Procaine to make you forget the pain©, the deadening agent on my skin and blood draw sites.
You’ll forget ALL about it! the ad continues.
I did. In minutes, literally.
On the upside I had acquired an additional six chits; one
was good for 15% off at the State Sponsored GovClinic; one was good for a nice meal, one was a day inside at the GovHealthFacility, and another one was for…the Exit Station. Just in case I felt the need.
I did, after this crash and burn! But that’s too drastic, this soon.
lll The breeze was fetid and a bit damp. I waited just outside as I had been instructed.
They made me wait almost fifteen minutes!
The Bastards!
The retinal burn of an incoming message from a high-powered source made me stumble a bit.
“Between the tourists and the damn locals and now the government,” I cursed under my breath.
There was a bunch of GovSpeak text, which I ignored.
Then I saw the face of my examiner. I leaned into a recess in a building. I’m certain passersby thought that my WayStation was remerging unexpectedly after lying dormant for a time.
Now it’s a common occurrence. No one anticipated the residual bounce-back effect. No one was worried about those aspects back then anyway.
She was officious and followed the text carefully: “Mr. Milo. We clearly see bad behavior from you in your recent past and more likely coming. We see a high likelihood of assaults, mail pilfering, drug abuse, shoplifting, theft…and spamming.”
Sh
e couldn’t hide the disgust in her voice at the last… aberration.
“Some of the worst possible anti-societal behaviors.”
She pursed her slack, pale lips. “Is this what we have to look forward to from you? Assault, theft, and worse, if you’re not properly supervised and employed?”
I hadn’t realized that that last question was not rhetorical.
“Mr. Milo? Is this what we can expect?”
Don’t lie. They’ll know.
I nodded, certain of my defeat and already dejected.
“I think The Great State…and so on, needs a verbal assent.”
Oh. Yeah.
“Yes. I guess it is. You can see everything. So…yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Thank you for your reply. Please stand by.”
I shrugged.
The connection had ended, and my life had just begun to unravel like cheapo Georgian cotton shorts from the Lo-PriceMart.
A minute or two had passed. Then…. “Stand by.”
I did. I had this sense of doom, but where was there to run? The State knows everything…even where I’d go.
I’ll just stay here. It’s easier.
“Stand by.”
I “stood by” for another fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, passersby seemed to be wondering about me and if I had just had a flashback of WayStation, and by now had given me a wide berth, or worrying that I might have a layover of FightBiteDie from last night.
I didn’t, but if it kept the creepers away, why not let them think that? This time, the retinal burn was intense enough to double me over stifling a yelp of pain. I’m certain that everyone giving me a wide walk now worried that I had just taken Howler. Howler makes those in its thrall think that they are werewolves.
A few Howlers have eaten the necks of innocent victims. Chewed right through! I saw on the unauthorized newsfeeds. Oh no! Another aberration. I’m fucked!
As my eyes cleared and I scanned those around me, I saw mostly worried faces, anxious to get to the next office, and away from the trouble that they thought they saw brewing in me.
“Mr. Milo?”
“Yes?” I tried unsuccessfully to steel myself against the coming verdict. Come back up to the interface.” “It is clear that we are worried about you; and that we are right to feel this way.”
I tried to control my breathing. The Great State of New York, and whatever, could probably monitor everything, except my thoughts.