by David Poland
“I truly wish I could do that,” answered the truck as though they were the best of friends. “For lunch the limit is two credits. How many would you like?”
“Oh man that’s really pathetic,” said Tommy. “If it won’t break the bank, give me the two credits.”
“Very good, your money is inside.”
The fast food joint was noisy and crowded. When Tommy got to the counter he immediately asked for his money. The man behind the counter sized him up as a WPA greenhorn and pointed to a com-link reader. “Put your watch near the reader.” Tommy did it. “You got two credits. What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t want the food, just give me the credits.”
“It doesn’t work that way pal. Your credits are for food. What do you want?”
“What happens,” asked Tommy, “if I don’t spent all the money?”
“You get the money you don’t spend back in change. So what’s it gonna be?”
“What’s the cheapest thing you got?”
The man behind the counter had guessed what Tommy was going to say before he opened his mouth. Many of the greenhorns had the same idea. “A small soda or a small bag of fries.”
“I’ll take the fries.” The greenhorns with skimming eyes all thought they had just found a way to put money in their pocket without working.
“Here you are. One small fries at ten cents, and one credit ninety in change. Next!”
Tommy was amazed. The day wasn’t over and he had money in his hand and a bag of fries. He put the money in his shirt pocket and started eating the fries.
Jackson came through the crowd. “Time to go, dude.” Then looking at what was in Tommy’s hand, “One little bag of fries! You on some kind of diet? Come on dude, you can eat them in the truck.”
Even as Tommy raced back to the truck, he felt hungry. What he didn’t know, was that Jackson had eaten a large beefy burrito and a bag of onion rings, and washed it down with a pony, a half sized bottle of beer. That kind of food put Jackson at his competitive best, and from the pony, he felt no buzz whatsoever. He was now raring to set a speed record on the last half of the route.
Back on the truck, Tommy ate the last of his French fries as slowly as he could trying to make them seem like more then they actually were. No luck. He ate them all and still felt hungry. Oh man, he thought, I shoulda bought me a big fries and a burger too. People shouldn’t have work to when they hungry.
The truck pulled off the street to the next stop. Jackson grabbed a shovel and jumped off the truck even before it stopped. “Hey dude, grab a shovel. We don’t need a broom for this stuff. Come on dude don’t fall behind. Don’t tell me you can’t handle it.” The truck, aware of Jackson’s enthusiasm, started lowering its steel lifting tynes as it moved slowly forward. The moment the truck was at the dumpster, its tynes were in place and it picked it up without stopping. “It’s full,” Jackson yelled at the truck, “dump it.”
When the truck was fully stopped and lifting the load, Tommy got off with a shovel. Jackson started shoveling up his first load even before the dumpster was back down. As it came back down, Jackson threw his first shovel full into it. Jackson had his second shovel full in the dumpster before Tommy had started. “Hey dude, you ain’t moving! Can’t you keep up with me?”
Tommy narrowed his eyes and shoveled up his first load. I can do anything that jerk can do, he thought. He felt a surge of energy and forgot about missing his lunch. He was as good a man as that jerk. He started moving a lot faster. This dumpster had filled up two or three days early and people had been throwing trash beside it. Jackson was a lot better with a big square shovel than Tommy was. Keeping an eye on what he was doing, Tommy got faster and more efficient. It was ten full minutes before they were done. They had actually filled it half full.
“Stand clear,” yelled Jackson. “Dump the load before replacing the dumpster,” yelled Jackson at the truck.
Standing off to the side, Tommy felt hungrier than he could ever remember. He stepped back up on the truck and put his shovel away. If they’re all like that one, he thought, I’ll never make it. Much to his relief, the ride to the next stop was a little longer than usual.
The next stop was a branch office for Homeland Care. Their dumpster looked brand-new and the surrounding area was perfectly clean. Jackson jumped off and watched the truck empty the load. There was nothing for the swampers to do. The truck backed away and stopped. Looking for Jackson to jump back on, Tommy saw Ted come out the side door and talk to Jackson. Ted wasn’t wearing his jacket and as he talked, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Ted walked around to Tommy’s side of the truck and climbed up into the passenger’s side of the cab. Jackson took his place behind the cab on the driver’s side.
The next three addresses were like Homeland Care. The truck did all the work and Tommy didn’t have to leave his seat. From where he sat he could look over and see Jackson jump off and on each time. He could also look through the cab’s rear window and see Ted up there in the passenger’s seat. Why was Ted riding around with them? This was not good. With nothing to do, Tommy was increasingly aware of his growing hunger. Maybe if he jumped off each time with Jackson that might make him feel better.
The next stop was a total mess. There was so much trash on the ground that if the truck drove up to the dumpster, its tires would smash it into the ground. The truck stopped short of the mess. Ted got out and grabbed the broom. Tommy grabbed his shovel. “Let’s clear the way for the truck,” yelled Ted. Jackson already had the other broom and was clearing his side. When it was clear enough for the truck to get to the dumpster, a man came out of the building. Ted walked over to him with the broom in hand. “Why’d you let this happen? You should have called us as soon as you needed some help.”
The man was maybe just thirty and seemed intimidated by Ted. “Well I have work to do. I am a Master of Business Administration. I can’t just run out here ever ten minutes and check this thing.”
“That’s the wrong answer, but I’m hoping your MBA hasn’t turned you into a stuffed shirt.” Ted held the broom up off the ground with both hands like it was a weapon. “How long have you known about this?”
When the man tried to speak, nothing came out of his mouth. As the truck started to lift the overflowing dumpster, trash fell off the sides. Now trying to yell over the noise the man said, “One’s not enough. This building should have two dumpsters, and people like you should show people like me a little more respect.”
The empty dumpster came down with a crash. Ted spun around and looked directly into one of the truck’s optical sensors. “That’s not the way we do it! You lower that thing gently. I don’t want to hear it come down.” Ted then shoved his broom into the man. “You help us. People like you should have a better idea what’s going on. This is your mess, not mine! I’ll grab the other shovel. I’ve a good mind to write you up for this.”
As Tommy worked, he looked at Jackson and saw him trying to stifle a grin. Tommy shoveled what Jackson swept, and the man swept for Ted, but he could hardly keep up. The four of them stepped back as the truck lifted the second load. This time the truck lowered the empty dumpster as quietly as possible. Tel looked into the optical sensor and gave the truck a slight nod of approval.
When they had filled the third dumpster, the area was clean. After lifting the third load, the truck replaced the empty dumpster quietly, then backed out and stopped. Ted looked into that sensor again. “It’s a good day, you’re still running twenty minutes ahead of schedule. You and the men finish the route, and no more crashing dumpsters. I’ll not be riding with you anymore. I’m going inside with this guy.” Ted then patted the truck in a friendly way and walked away.
Tommy looked over behind the cab at Jackson. Jackson looked back shaking his head and made the gesture of his head being cut off. It was obvious this guy was in trouble. They both laughed at the thought of the lecture Ted was giving him.
The next few stops were very clean and Tommy jumped off whenever Jack
son did, but there was no work to do. Standing on his feet wasn’t so bad, but sitting on the side of the truck made him feel even hungrier. He’d gladly spend the money in his pocket for some food. The hunger was starting to make him feel a weakness from deep inside. He wondered just how bad it would get.
As the truck slowed down for the next dumpster, Tommy jumped off and stood to the side. The site was clean. No work to do. As the dumpster raised, his eyes beheld a mythical vision. His heart jumped at the sight. Years of longing were being fulfilled before him. Suddenly, this trash truck monkey business wasn’t so bad after all. Someone had brought an old motorcycle to the dumpster, but they were unable to throw it up and in. The truck had also spotted the motorcycle and as it brought the empty dumpster back down, it left plenty of room for the swampers to get hold of it and throw it in for a second lift and dump.
Jackson looked it over and decided the motorcycle was beyond hope. “Give me a hand with this thing,” said Jackson. “I think we can throw it in the dumpster and be rid of it.”
“No way man. They just throwing it away. I want it. We got nothin’ at home in the garage.” Tommy’s hunger made him feel weak and unpersuasive. He felt like he was pleaded for the bike. “I got plenty of room for it at home.”
“You don’t want that thing, dude. Look at it. It doesn’t even have a front wheel. Anything you would buy would be better than that.”
“Yeah, well they won’t let me buy one,” said Tommy feeling rather defeated.
“Well if they won’t let you buy one, then swiping this one is nothin’ but trouble. You want to spend a night in the box?”
“Motorcycles got two or three wheels. That thing only has one. Without enough wheels it ain’t no motorcycle. It’s modern art and I want it for my garden to scare them birds away. Now you ain’t gonna go throw away a piece of modern art are you?”
“Oh my God,” said Jackson talking to the truck. “We’ve been working with an artist. The dude is a modern artist.”
“I hadn’t guessed that about Tommy,” said the truck with its friendly voice. “We are very fortunate to spend our day with him.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes a bit as he spoke directly to the truck’s optical sensor. “You sure the dude’s an artist?”
“Absolute certainty is always elusive. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt. None of us want to be guilty of destroying a piece of modern art. May I point out that my salvage bin is empty.”
“He’s got a salvage bin!” exclaimed Tommy. “He’s got a place for it and I sure don’t want to destroy no piece of modern art. We got to save it!”
Jackson’s life story wasn’t all that different from Tommy’s, and he remembered clearly his own struggle to qualify for his own first bike. “Okay, dude. Now you pick up the back of this thing carefully. If the back wheel starts to move, put it down. Don’t let it pinch your fingers. I’ll grab the front. Okay here we go.” Without the front wheel and tire, and its seat, and several other parts, the remnant was just light enough to lift into the salvage bin on the back of the truck. “You don’t look so good dude. What’s the problem?”
“I didn’t get enough lunch,” answered Tommy rather sheepishly.
“That’s hard to believe, dude. They looked like the very best fries to me.” Jackson walked back to where Tommy sat on the truck. On the back of the cab just in front of where the swamper sat was a small door like the door to a glove compartment. Jackson opened it for him, and inside was a small bottle of water and a trail bar. “That there is swamper grub if you need it.” Tommy grabbed the trail bar and ripped it open. “Take small bites and chew it up good and wash it down with the water. If you eat it too fast, it’ll form a rock in your stomach.” Jackson went to his side of the truck and they were back on the road.
The last few stops were very clean and the swampers were not needed. Tommy ate the trail bar much too fast and it formed a rock in his stomach. The truck pulled back into the yard a full hour early and remembering its salvage, backed up to the shop building. They unloaded the motorcycle remnant and then the truck drove off to dump its load.
“Ok dude let’s drag it over here. Nobody’s gonna let you keep this thing while it’s this dirty. We got to clean it up.” Jackson took a much closer look at it and shook his head in disbelief. “If you should ever happen to want to put this piece of modern art back on the street, you’re gonna have to totally rebuild it. Did you take some shop classes in school?”
“Not a whole lot. I mean I wasn’t there all the time, but I know I can take care of it. You probably want to go home.” Tommy wasn’t feeling at all well.
“You know how to use a steam cleaner?”
Tommy didn’t even know what a steam cleaner was, let alone how to use one, but he didn’t want to admit it. “I’ll clean it up when I get home.”
“So how you ganna get it home? Look we still got fifty minutes till the shift ends. Lets drag it over here.”
In a place just outside the shop, Jackson blasted it clean with hot steam. “Your sister Angie gonna let you take this thing home?”
“Oh no man, she hates motorcycles. I got to get it home when she’s not lookin’. Can we hide it somewhere in the shop for now?”
“Well a piece of modern art shouldn’t be hidden,” said Jackson deviously. “I know just the place.”
The motorcycle was still dripping water when they covered it up with a canvas. They then hurried into the locker room. The great rock in Tommy’s stomach made him feel terrible. He wasn’t exhausted from the day’s work. He could handle that much activity, no sweat, but that trail bar he horsed down was a real problem. He struggled to get out of his coveralls and back into his street clothing. “Move it dude, move it. We got to be back in the shop when your sister shows up. We don’t want her snoopin’ around, now do we?”
Other men were closing up the doors and windows of the shop when they got back there. Tommy looked over against the wall for his bike and saw the canvas still covering it. Small drops of water were still falling from it. As they walked toward the door, it opened and Angie came in.
She looked at Jackson and said, “End of shift and you’re right on time.” Angie could read Tommy like a book and could tell he was up to something. “So, how’d it go, Tommy? You think you can do it again tomorrow?”
Tommy straightened up a little. “No problem. I can do anything this Jackson guy can do.” Tommy’s face betrayed his hunger.
“Okay,” she said apprehensively, “that’s what I wanted to hear. Are you okay? You’re not looking like your old self.”
“I didn’t have a good lunch. It like left this big rock in my stomach.”
Jackson stepped back from them and let his eyes look anywhere but at Angie.
Angie shot a glair at Jackson. “Where did you take him for lunch?”
“It wasn’t me,” said Jackson. “The truck took us over to the Snake Dancer, and the dude ordered his own lunch. What he did, is what he did.” Jackson stepped a little closer to the door.
“Do you want to see a medic?” asked his sister.
“No, I’ll be okay if I don’t die.”
“Oh come on, Tommy,” complained Jackson as he approached the door, “nobody ever died from missing lunch.”
“So that’s it,” observed Angie. “Instead of buying lunch, you put your lunch money in your pocket.” Angie waited for an answer that didn’t come. “You’re standing and walking. Let’s go home and see what Demy has cooked up for dinner.”
At the moment, Demy’s dinner didn’t sound so good. In fact the thought of more food made the rock seem bigger.
Jackson was now over at the door. He called back to Tommy and his sister as he walked out. “Warm tea will melt the rock in his gut. Good luck dude, and if you don’t happen to die, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
Angie was nicely dressed in her usual, better that average, business attire. In these postmodern times, going to work dressed like you were goin
g to the beach had become the norm. Angie, however, was fond of reading the business magazines from the last two decades of the twentieth century, and she took her cue for dressing from the professional women she saw on the pages. She was blessed with a fine intelligent face and her eyes were clear and always focused. The truth be known, her gaze was far more intimidating than her clothing.
Tommy and Angie had the same father, and they carried the features of his family. There was no question that they were brother and sister. When Tommy’s mother died he was fifteen, and at the time he didn’t know he had a half-sister. When he was orphaned, Homeland Care told him about Angie and her half-brother Carl and the new family unit they were creating.
Long before his mother died, he knew she was keeping a secret from him. Based on no tangible evidence whatsoever, he had decided the secret was a vast fortune he would inherit on his twenty-fifth birthday. When he turned twenty-five, there was no money. He eventually realized that Angie and her little brother were the secret.
Before Tommy was orphaned, he and his assigned robot – a robot he had called Jack – had been exploring the city, and more or less staying out of trouble. Tommy felt that with the assistance of his robot, he was more than able to live on his own. Homeland Care, however, disagreed. Tommy never fully understood why. HC gave him a choice. He could move into the new family unit they were creating, or he could join the Civil Defense Corps and live in a military camp. This was a no-brainer so he did whatever seemed necessary to avoid the Civil Defense Corps.
Tommy finally met Angie and her little brother Carl when they all moved into a new flat on a very fine street. Angie and Carl came with a domestic robot that little Carl called Demy. Tommy of course, moved in with his chaperone robot, Jack. The flat had three bedrooms, one for each human, and enough cradles for five robots.
One week after they moved in, the family unit was assigned a provider robot. The provider robot was the same size as an ordinary man and was built to take an ordinary job earning an ordinary paycheck. Integrating the provider robots with the population was less efficient in terms of labor output than keeping them separate, but HC was trying to reconstruct the crumbling American family. HC knew that children tended to copy the role models they grow up with. It was generally agreed that small children take their home environment as the definition of the world. In the face of intense criticism, HC had made a stand in favor of the traditional family.