Lenders

by Johnson, John

  Amy’s foster mom, Bertha Lawson, had a lesser degree of luck—thinking in terms of doled rations. She was of the endomorph body type and put on weight, especially fat, extremely easily. Before the war she was in security and correspondingly had been given modifications that made her sizable and strong. And was she ever—built like an ox. Although her DNA had been modified to lessen the chance of getting fat, for some reason it didn’t take well with her. Her complexion was dark black with even darker eye circles, she was five foot eleven with puffy cheeks, and kept her hair nearly shaved, always less than a quarter inch thick at most. Her head looked odd on her body, too small. She worked, and lived, at the restaurant and although she was credited with less food rations for having this body type, she could sneak snacks here and there (something she really didn’t need). She was the largest woman in town, but got away with it because she passed all of her fitness tests. Fit as a fiddle, as healthy as one could get, she was a force to be reckoned with. She would really sweat it out during her sessions too, easily pumping a set of 120’s on the flat bench, or squatting 500 pounds. She liked seeing all the young men, especially her trainer, and looked forward to exercise day. Bertha was very friendly and fun to be around, liked by just about everyone—especially Ed Barton, outer gate security at the facility—and one you would want on your side in a bad situation. Grunting as loudly as ever, she was pushing out some stiff-legged dead-lifts with a measly 420 pounds, almost done as Amy arrived.

  “Amy,” Jim yelled from the free-weight section near the entrance door; the building was a restored warehouse, 5000 square feet with a concrete floor. He liked to workout early and get it over with, although he procrastinated about numerous other things in life.

  “Hi Jim, caught each other at the same time, that’s a coincidence,” Amy said.

  “We’ll always have the same day as long as the final compatibility results turn out okay, which they likely will.”

  “Cool,” Amy said. Her attitude was spunky. She’d clearly rebounded emotionally from yesterday’s shocks and her traumatic memory recollections. She wore cut off jogging pants that fit her too big, and a tighter light grey t-shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail.

  “I need to finish an hour of cardio and then I’m done. Um—” Jim stuttered, “wanna get a coffee, or something, later?” He went out on a limb. He wasn’t looking for anything deep. He did feel a strange connection to her and wanted to further get to know the person he was to be working with. His first day with her was something out of the ordinary, and for him that was refreshingly welcome. He was curious about a few things and this was an opportunity to find out, plus he felt an urge to tell her about his dream.

  “Sure, I’d love too. I promised my mom I’d help her with a few things at the restaurant but can meet you later this afternoon.”

  “There goes your mom now,” he said. Bertha’s trainer had her motivated and she was groaning to finish another massive lift. Others looked on cheering. “Sounds good then, um, when did you want…”

  “At 2 would be fine if that’s okay,” Amy said. “I gotta go start my workout.” She had a trainer that had accompanied her in. Jim knew her, Amanda, one of his ex-girlfriends. She gestured at Amy to get moving, and to yank her away from Jim.

  “Okay, see ya at—Julio's then, next to the park,” he suggested. Julio probably didn’t have coffee, at least Jim had never bothered to check, but he’d already blurted it. Julio’s Pizza was a converted shipping container between two old food truck shells; a favorite place—of the few that existed—to grab a bite. Julio and his family lived there and cranked out pizza for the entire town. U-shaped, it sat across the street from their building on the edge of the park. Pizza—a happy food—wasn’t his favorite, but he knew she liked it.

  “Deal, see you then,” Amy said and got back to her trainer who was showing her the new routine. Amanda gave Jim a foul look as Amy turned away. Jim knew, he’d lost many a girlfriend for being a grouchy pessimist.

  Amy would be lifting heavy weights to build strength but doing very few sets in the beginning. Every week a set, even just a few reps, would be added and hopefully if she built some strength the trainer would later change the plan in hopes to add some weight to her frame. Amanda provided her an eating plan that she could use during the week. She’d learned plenty about fitness and nutrition in school, a required class, but the trainer helped to tailor a plan just for her. It was some really basic strength exercises, nothing crazy and a diet plan which involved eating more, a lot more, with a recommendation to the board for an even larger increase in rations.

  Amy had an early lunch at the restaurant and finished helping Bertha with some Saturday cleaning then headed out to have an afternoon coffee with Jim. She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but he’d suggested a pizza joint—odd, and kind of funny. She could tell he’d looked a little nervous. She was greatly intrigued by the program and wanted to learn more if the subject came up so jumped on his invite. She used her mom’s shower and her old room which was still just as she’d left it; she loved that room, above the restaurant with a window facing Park Avenue. She still had a lot of clothes and other things there. She missed the place, but was beginning to enjoy the freedom of her own apartment, plus she could visit anytime; it was only a block down the street. Bertha surely wanted her to stay, but Devon White, head of new recruits, suggested she might get too distracted and needed to learn to live on her own and mature. His suggestion was more of a requirement.

  “Have a nice-un now Aim,” Bertha said as Amy headed out the front door of the restaurant.

  “Bye, Momma-Bee!” Amy yelled, skipping away, hearing Bertha yell out to come back anytime. She knew her Momma-Bee already missed her—but she had to grow up. Right?

  “Hey Jim, been here a while?” Amy said walking toward him. He was sitting at a table in the shade. Julio’s had four poles mounted on the internal corners of its U-shape layout with a forty by forty foot canopy attached to the tips. Its open end faced the green of the park.

  “Not long,” he replied. “Coffee?” To Jim’s surprise Julio had added it, although he hadn’t eaten there in years.

  “Actually can I get a juice? Not really much of a coffee drinker. And Amanda—she’s my trainer—says no caffeine. Oh they have those mini-pizzas here, love those,” Amy said. “She said I have to eat more so…”

  Jim couldn’t help but make a grumpy face at the thought of Amanda, but dissembled it quickly enough and Amy, entranced by the pizza, didn’t notice.

  They ordered, he a coffee and her a mixed sweet-juice; both got a mini-pizza. “Yum! These are good. Momma-Bee tries to make these at the restaurant but I told her to stick with her country cookin’ because they aren’t nearly as good as this.” She gobbled the pizza down in the least amount of bites possible and ordered another and ate it too. After finishing the meal Jim sipped his coffee (probably at least cup number four by that time in the day) and Amy drank her sweet-juice.

  They had an awkward moment and Amy broke it, “So, why’d ya invite me for coffee Jim?”

  “I figured we’d be working together again tomorrow so it might be good to get to know each other a little better. You live right below me so we are neighbors now.”

  “It’s an awesome building. Hard to believe it was once a fancy desert resort, but still very nice. Can we actually talk about the job here?” Amy whispered. She looked around. The agreement she’d signed to become a lender scared her: no disclosing anything about the facility or else...

  Julio’s had a good afternoon’s worth of customers—typically about twenty or so for lunch, but things were winding down.

  “We can head into the park,” he suggested holding up a large faded Mexican blanket, “I brought this.”

  “Um. Okay, sure. Sounds good.”

  Technology was extremely limited in the town, almost nil. Things were simple: no cars or autos of any kind, no phones, no computers, a few screens, but not a whole hell of a lot to do. People read books, rod
e bicycles, exercised—exercised some more. A simple life, and most simply enjoyed each other’s company. Amy didn’t miss it but Jim never forgot the days of his youth. He adjusted, but it always gnawed away at him, probably more than most. Life in the fast lane, existing in a grand utopia: virtual reality, interactive movies and games, infinite varieties of food and drink, hyper-transports to anywhere including Mars and the Moon; to a lesser degree the newer cloud city on Venus. Data and information and entertainment was only a thought away. After money, and borders fell; everything just kept getting better and better. Change itself was a blockbuster and all of humanity had a front row seat. As the years went by he missed it ever more, and his alacrity to do anything plundered. As of several years past he’d really lost touch with others, lost his girlfriends, and found himself content to sit in his room; waiting for work, it was as close as he was going to get, and he knew it. Logged in, like being injected with drugs—but only to achieve baseline. Logged out: waiting, depressed, eat-shit-repeat, even exercise no longer helped; he had become a dire malcontent.

  Jim headed to a grassy spot near the small pond. The park was located in the center of town and had many walking paths that intersected it, including the one Amy had taken to work; that one headed away from the lake, southeast, all the way back to the immense bulge in the wall, the facility. Jim laid out the blanket and they got settled. He lay down and looked up at the—clouds. She copied.

  “Amy. I had a nightmare last night and felt I needed to tell you about it,” he said with his head resting on interlocked fingers breaking an odd minute of silence. As usual the sky had virtually zero clouds, merely tiny and high stratospheric specks barely visible to the naked eye.

  “Sure, but I have nightmares all the time. Probably about one per night but at least the rest are usually pleasant. I try and forget the bad ones and focus on the good dreams.”

  “Amy, the people here, everywhere, do not dream. Nothing besides small unrecognizable fragments, glitches, meaningless chunks.”

  “What? You’re kidding,” she exclaimed.

  A pause before Jim spoke seriously again. “Amy, this is the first time I’ve had a full-fledged dream since I was—around fifteen years old I’d have to guess. Before the—”

  “What? I’m sorry I didn’t know—I’ve always thought this town kept too many secrets. But maybe that could be a good thing,” Amy said. “Not dreaming. If you’d experienced some of mine—I promise you’d probably never want to dream again, ever.”

  “I just felt you should know. And I feel a little different since our session yesterday. I didn’t mention it to anyone else. I’m not sure if it’s related to the reason I finally had a dream.”

  “Well, what was it about?” She looked at him realizing how good-looking he was, wondering why she’d never seen him around town, and why in the world he didn’t have a girlfriend.

  “The wall explo— Ah, maybe it’s best I forget about it like you do. It was my first in over twenty years, maybe the last one anyway,” he said shrugging it off.

  “Uh—okay then, sure.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking Amy,” He started before she could get more curious about his dream. “How did you lose your arm?”

  “Of course not. I actually like to get that out of the way,” she replied, her attitude upbeat in contrast to his. “Honestly I don’t remember much—besides what my daddies told me. I was very young.” She relaxed her muscle and slid off the grey and white arm prosthesis. Her arm was just a thin six inch rounded stub poking out from her shoulder. She passed it to him. He sat up, a little surprised, but reluctantly took the arm carefully with both hands as Amy continued to lie and gaze at the microscopic specks that had to pass for clouds. A memory occurred to her: she remembered when there used to be more clouds, lots of them, everyday. And she remembered all the fantastic shapes. “Press against the shiny metal plate inside—go ahead, try it. Just think of what you want it to do.” The arm was a special gift from her saviors; a hazy memory she could never make clear, but she knew, they’d helped her. It and the food synthesizer were the two most technological items that existed in Jewel City; except for the undisclosed inner workings of the lending facility.

  The arm was light—enough to float on water seemingly—with polished metal inner joints; and the fingers and joints could move in ways that a normal hand couldn’t. The top was white, the bottom dark grey. The palm and finger tips were like rubbery sandpaper; it felt like it could get a grip on anything. It was obviously made with highly advanced technology and had the ability to grow with Amy as she aged, and never needed charging. Jim pressed a single finger onto the inside plate and watched as the hand did everything according to his thoughts. He was amazed. Thoughts of the past flooded his mind once again, the diverse array of technology that had once consumed nearly every aspect of life itself. Much of it made lives interesting which led to some very unique experiences; how he yearned for those days. And he remembered the robots, so many of them, everywhere—with hands, just like this.

  “Oh be careful, it can crush whatever you place in the grip. I wouldn’t—” Amy said and rolled over and took the arm back. Jim had it trying to squeeze his knee. He was just messing around and didn’t realize the strength of it. She caught him just in time, knowing his knee-joint would’ve been toast.

  “Wow it’s amazing, and powerful.”

  “It is. I am used to it and I like it. I can control it and make it do anything my real hand can do, but it is much stronger. If anyone ever messed with me at school all I had to do was make a fist with it.” She giggled.

  “So anyway, how did you—”

  “It happened a long time ago…”

  28. Lee

  It was a brisk fall night in the cave, many leaves had all fallen from a freak storm and the forest lacked much of its comforting obscurity. Jerry was slow-brewing a rat stew and waving away the smoke. Amy huddled close to the small fire that dimly lit the cave, sitting on Jodi’s lap. Valerie was sound asleep behind Jerry, her pregnant belly was a basketball so she slept on the side. Jon was outside in the dusk light adding more brush to the cave’s main entrance, trying to make it look natural. The fallen leaves always made him nervous; the freak storms were like no others in history, but at least, had been diminishing over the past year.

  Things were good, as good as they could be. Amy, with cutely braided hair, had just turned six and was skinny but healthy. She giggled while Jodi and Jerry took turns telling her stories by the fire. Jodi told her a little piggy joke and tickled her toes making her laugh with a high-pitched squeal.

  Jon hurried down the steps of the large entrance waving his hands. “Shh. Something outside,” he said in a low voice. Without hesitation Jerry put out the fire and covered the pot. Jodi blew out the small torch light and hushed Amy which wasn’t easy after the little piggy had already ran all the way home. She continued to giggle so they had to get stern with her in order to quickly change her mood. The result was a pouting face but her giggles were hard to squash. Jerry pointed up toward the caves larger entrance then put his finger on his lips telling her to be quiet with sign language. She responded to that and finally hushed; they had practiced for this many times. “A light, moving,” Jon whispered. He’d seen it flickering in the forest and thought it was getting closer.

  Jon pointed, motioning for everyone to head deeper into the cave; to the dark tunnel-like area in the back—time to hide. Jerry awoke Valerie and helped her along. Quietly they all disappeared into the tunnel and huddled together in the pitch black space. Branches rustled at the cave’s main entrance, and some male voices got louder.

  “Well well well—what do we have here,” said a deep rough voice from first of the three men stepping down into the cave.

  “What is it Lee?” said the skinny man quickly and anxiously while ripping away the brush that Jon had only moments earlier placed over the hole.

  “Careful Lee, I think someone’s here. Smell that?” The fat man said sticking to
Lee’s back trying to catch some of the light from his nightstick. His feet clobbered each of the man-made clay steps.

  “No shit Dwayne,” Lee replied in a punishing whisper. “How tha fuck you think I knew it wuz here. Now shut your fuckin’ pie-holes, both of ya’s.” He held his breath and fist like he wanted to wail on the two, then continued the descent.

  With hand signals Lee alerted the two to get their guns ready. They crept further inside. Like a hunter creeping cautiously toward his prey Lee sidestepped into the hole, a goon on each side only one step behind. Nothing could be heard inside, and so far, it looked empty. The last of the daylight barely lit the open space but its large inner-dome shape was still evident. He inspected the area with his light. As he planted his feet on the flat floor he could easily make out the soup and a smoldering fire, blankets, art on the walls and calendar marks, and makeshift furniture and blankets. He knew.

  Dwayne surpassed Lee while he stood cautiously inspecting the room. He’d singled out the soup, sniffed it from afar. The skinny one tailed his drooping ass. “Hey Ray, look at this,” he whispered and they both breathed it in.

  “Ah damn that’s good,” lanky Ray agreed rubbing his hands together. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks; in contrast Dwayne was fat, like he’d always bullied Ray from his share of the grub.

  Ray tried to snag a taste but Dwayne jerked it back spilling a good portion of it. “Gimme that,” sparked Dwayne. “Shit, see what you made me do.” As always Ray was last to eat, lucky to get scraps. If it wasn’t for Lee he would’ve starved and Dwayne wouldn’t have thought twice; Ray himself would be a meal.