Michael’s face visibly relaxed. “I signed up last night. I was the first one in our neighborhood. Starting next week, I’ll get two-thousand dollars per month, every month, for the rest of my life. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same thing.” He pushed past Ian and strode out the door.
“I win! You lose!” Jack yelled at his father and then collapsed into giggling. “Why did you do that?”
Ian shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I… just have my mind somewhere else, I guess.”
Jack jammed his hand into Ian’s ribs and started scratching around with a smile on his face.
“I’m really not in the mood for tickling, buddy,” Ian said. I’m about in the mood to jump off a bridge.
Jack sat back, crestfallen. He was silent for a moment, then spoke up, “Dad, there’s this new game—”
Ian studied his youngest son’s gorgeous face. Out of all of them, he was the only one who looked like his dad: a pleasantly-rounded face, brown hair, blue eyes. If only I could buy him everything he ever wanted, I would. Over and over again. “I can’t do it, not right now. I just lost my job.”
Jack looked down. “It’s only three dollars. I mean, if you get a chance.”
“After I get a new job, okay? It shouldn’t be long.”
The boy’s face darkened. “It’s okay, Dad. I can wait.” He got up and walked towards his room.
Ian’s heart sank. He leaned back into the overworn couch, the mid-morning sun warming his shoulders. He sighed, then sighed again, this time more violently. It won’t hurt to look at it, to just investigate it. He closed his eyes, laid his head back and allowed the top of his head to be warmed. His thoughts drifted to college. Everything was better then - before he knew Candy. His mind reeled at the idea. My family is everything I have. I have to stick this through. He yawned. There is something I am missing. I feel like I am asleep and I need to wake up. He slapped his cheek, gently at first, then hard. But it made no difference.
Ian pulled his mobile screen out of his back pocket and unfolded it until it was the size of a legal pad. He typed in ‘basic income’ and a video instantly played.
“With forty percent employment and the growing robotization of industry—”
Ian skipped ahead with a jerk of his finger.
“The national basic income guarantee is available to all United States residents, citizen or not, over the age of majority: fourteen. Every individual receives the same amount. No labor is required in exchange for your basic income, which is your right as a sovereign human being and American national.”
Ian rolled his eyes. A sense of deep shame erupted in him. Free money? Government money? It offended him at a root level. An image popped into his mind. His German grandfather, in suspenders and a beat-up old hat, plowing his land with a team of horses. The old man was ninety-three then.
The video continued. “You only need visit your local basic income office with proof of residency, valid voter registration card and submit to a toxicology screen. A DNA sample is also required.”
He clicked away. A video ad occupied his entire screen. A man in a top hat and monocle popped into existence. “It’s the First Annual Basic Income Robotics Challenge! All you budding robotics wantrepreneurs, here is your chance! Prepare a personal service robot prototype by June 1, demonstrate it for us here at the Basic Income Administration and the winner takes home one million dollars in startup funding! It’s that easy! Sponsored by the Basic Income Administration, we make dreams come true. Full details at basic income dot gov slash robotics. Government employees ineligible for prizes. Some conditions apply.”
Jack ran around the corner into the living room. “Dad, that’s perfect for you! That’s just what you need! Let’s do it, Dad! Come on!”
Ian smiled at his son’s enthusiasm. “I’m too old for such things. Better the prize money go to a young person. Maybe you’d like to do it.”
“I don’t know anything about robots! I’m only nine!” Jack yelled.
“I’m just too old to start something new. I had my chance. I chose to start a family and now I have to live with that decision,” Ian said.
Ian drifted up from a soft, lazy dream. A cool breeze wafted over him. He sat in the shade on a quiet beach. There was no one around, he was completely alone. He closed his eyes and smiled.
He opened his eyes. Jack’s grinning face greeted him. He lay on the couch, his mouth was dry and he had to go to the bathroom.
“It’s a family meeting, Dad,” Jack said. His face said it all: you’re in for it now.
Candy, Michael and Stacy stood behind the boy, their arms crossed and each with one foot tapping the floor. Do they even realize?
“We found some jobs for you, Dad,” said Stacy. She was dressed this time, if that’s what you can call a bikini top and a mini pencil skirt.
“Yeah,” said Michael, “it’s time you shape up and take some responsibility.”
“We need money,” said Candy. “The kids have expenses: gaming, medication, trips, clothes, food, of course, and let’s not forget the rent!”
Ian rubbed his eyes and sat up. It’s an ambush. Deep within him, a sense of moral outrage grew. You people only live because of my dedication, my intelligence. But he quashed it. They’re right. I have a responsibility to care for this family. She is my wife. These are my kids. I am the man. I have always provided. They need me.
Michael brought his screen out from behind his back. “Skyscraper window washer. It pays even more than you made before.” He regarded his father with a delicate smugness. It could be shattered at any moment.
Ian fought to clear the brain fog of an afternoon nap. I should never sleep during the day. He felt a panic to get up, to do something. But do what? “Skyscraper window washer. The outside of the windows or the inside?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “The outside, of course!”
“Even on the top floor?” Ian asked. He imagined himself hanging from the top of the Prudential building, the wind in his hair, the sun warming him above. It might not be too bad.
“All the floors,” Michael said.
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Ian asked.
“But it pays well, Daddy,” Stacy said. “We need the money.”
“They’re going to throw us out on the street!” Candy screamed. She looked at the ceiling, then down to Ian, then back to the ceiling. “I mean, it’s money. What do we do without money? We have nothing!”
Michael touched her arm. “It’s okay, Mom. Dad will do the right thing. He always does.” He turned to Jack and punched him gently in the arm. “Isn’t that right, kiddo?”
Ian looked at Jack. He felt for him. The youngest of this pack of wolves? And he has to actually spend time with them. What will he say? Ian felt calm, cool, his mind empty for once. It felt good. It was all good, no matter what happened. As long as his Jack was okay.
Jack’s face darkened. “I’m not okay with it. Dad could die! What would we do without him? I need a dad more than I need new video games.” Jack looked at his siblings and mother. Their faces were blank. “You don’t even care!”
Ian admired the passion in his boy and a small smile crept onto his face before Candy noticed it and he wiped it away.
Candy cleared her throat. “Of course we care about your father. We love him. But—”
“You’re lying!” Jack yelled.
“Now listen here, young man,” said Candy. “You won’t talk to your mother like that. Go to your room. This meeting is for adults only.”
“It’s a family meeting and I’m staying!” Jack yelled.
Ian laughed and offered his arms out to his son. Jack run over and hugged him. “I love you, Dad,” the boy whispered into his father’s ear.
There was silence for a moment, then Michael spoke up. “They also need crab fishermen in Alaska.”
“This is how it’s going to go,” Ian said. He sat back and put his hands behind his neck. “We’re going to cut expenses, radically. All of the gamin
g subscriptions are gone. I’m cutting them all now.”
“But, Dad, I need—” Michael started.
Ian fixed his glare on him. “Everyone who is staying at this house will abide by these rules.”
Candy let out an exasperated sigh. “Dear, you can’t just—”
“Yes, I can, and I will. This is how it will go. We’re cutting expenses, we’re—”
“But I’m in charge of expenses,” Candy said.
“Not anymore. I want all the papers and account access,” Ian said. His heart trembled but his gaze was steady and firm.
Candy stared at him, her face slack and her eyes distant. She shook her head.
“There will be no more ordering of food. Candy, you will prepare a sensible shopping list and cook healthy food for us three times per day.”
Candy’s lip curled. “No,” she said in a small voice.
“Kids, your allowances are stopped—”
“No, Daddy! Just no!” Stacy yelled.
Michael stared at him in silence, his chest heaving up and down. “You’re not in charge here. You’re just one member of this family. There are five of us.”
“Six if you count Uncle Larry,” said Stacy, her hand on her hip.
“Uncle Larry is not actually anyone’s uncle,” Ian said. “Now—”
“This is bullshit. I’m leaving,” said Michael.
“I’m just doing the rational thing, Michael. I am trying to save this family.”
“This is about your ego. You just want to control us.”
“How can you say that? I have always let your mother take care of our home.”
“Maybe you should continue.”
Candy spoke up. “If your father wants to be a househusband, it’s okay with me. He can cook and clean and pay the bills. It’s okay with me.”
“We should all chip in,” said Jack.
“We may have to move to a smaller apartment,” Ian said.
“That’s it!” Candy yelled. “That’s where I draw the line!”
Ian shrugged.
“Why don’t you sell a kidney? I know a place where they pay top dollar.”
“Mom!” Jack yelled.
The front door swung open with a bang. “Hey, kids! It’s Uncle Larry, with some presents!” Larry stepped in carrying shopping bags and wearing what was obviously a new leather jacket.
Stacy ran up to him, her steps high and excited. She grabbed his arm and rubbed her hand against the coat. “Is it real leather?”
Larry put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. His hand hovered above her butt cheek. Ian couldn’t tell if it was touching or not. “Well, of course, darling,” said Larry. “Someday I’ll get you one just like it. Nothing but the best for you, baby.” He let Stacy go and she giggled.
“Our family meeting is not over,” Jack said in a loud voice. “Hey!” None of them looked back at him and so he looked at his father, an expression of helplessness on his face. “I tried,” he whispered.
Ian motioned to him and the boy threw himself onto his father’s lap. “They’re different,” Ian said. “It’s okay. We’ll always have each other, you and I. Isn’t that right?”
“I don’t want you to die,” Jack whispered and his eyes puffed up.
A wave of tenderness came over Ian. It was not a common feeling for him and it felt unusual and dangerous to feel it right now, in front of these people - in front of everyone but Jack. “Listen—”
Larry appeared in front of them. Ian, surprised, stood up and offered him his hand. Larry offered a thin smile, then sat down on the couch where Ian had been sitting. Stacy ran over and sat on his lap.
“Ian, buddy, why don’t you offer your guest a beer,” Larry said without taking his eyes off of Stacy’s chest.
Stacy giggled, then looked up at her father. “Well, come on, Dad. Larry is our guest.”
Jack looked up at his father, his face pure outrage.
Ian rubbed his son gently on the back and shook his head. He stood by and watched. He wanted to drink it all in. Just what are they playing at?
“Oh, I’ll get that!” said Candy from the kitchen. Ian watched as she hastily grabbed the last remaining can of Schlitz from the back of the refrigerator, popped its tab and poured it into a fresh glass. She poured too fast and the head filled the glass up before she could empty the whole can. She brought it to Larry anyway.
“That’s some good head there, Candy,” he said with a grin.
Candy giggled and took a seat next to him. She turned her body halfway towards him until her knees touched his thigh. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Mom! That’s disgusting!” Stacy yelled.
“Go to your room, little girl!” Candy said in an unusually calm voice.
“Ladies, ladies, there is enough of me to go around,” Larry said with a laugh. “Let’s all take it easy. Ian, why don’t you take a seat? We have something to talk about.”
Ian narrowed his eyes.
Jack pulled on his dad’s arm. “Let’s go play.”
Ian nodded and they walked towards Jack’s room.
“How’s that new job, Ian? What’s it gonna be? Window washer or crab fisherman?” Larry asked. One arm was around his daughter and the other lay just above his wife’s shoulders.
Jack pulled at his arm.
“Don’t worry about—” Ian started.
“How about as my own personal assistant at the Department of Robots, Basic Income Administration, Washington, D.C.?” Larry brought his left hand down and placed it squarely on Stacy’s butt cheek. Ian swore he saw him flex the hand. The other he brought down over Candy’s chest and rested on her breast.
Ian felt his face heating up.
Candy turned and faced Larry. “You got a new job? In Washington?”
Larry nodded without looking at her.
“Congratulations, Uncle Larry,” Stacy said. “That’s great news!”
“Why don’t you have a beer,” Larry said to Ian, “and we’ll have a chat.”
“Oh, that was the last one,” Candy said. She inched closer to Larry.
Do they realize how foolish they are, all jockeying for position around Larry? How quick they are to abandon ship - all but my good Jack.
“It’s nine-to-five hours, better than you were making at the El, you get to work under me and you’ll pick up a thing or two about robotics,” said Larry.
“My dad is an expert on robotics,” said Jack. “He studied it in college. He should be your boss.”
Ian suppressed a smile.
“I’ll—” Ian started.
“You can think about it,” said Larry, “but I’ll need to know by tomorrow morning. It’s a good job and it’ll go fast.”
“He’ll take it,” Candy said.
Larry laughed. “Best to listen to the little woman. Happy wife, happy life, right?” He squeezed her breast and pulled her closer.
“He’s not interested in your job! He’s going to design robots!” said Jack. “Come on, Dad, let’s go save the world!”
“Now, hold on, Jack,” Ian said.
Jack looked up at him, startled. “But, Dad,” he whispered.
“I will let you know my decision tomorrow, Larry.” He turned and walked out the door.
Jack trailed along behind him, begging him to play with him.
3
“I just want to spend some quiet time with you,” Ian said to Jack. They sat on the couch in the early morning haze. Michael, Stacy and Candy were all passed out next to each other on the floor.
“Why do they do that?” Jack asked.
“What?” Ian asked. He slouched down on the old couch and tried to find a comfortable position. He sat back up again.
“You know!” Jack loud-whispered.
“Oh, the pills and the, uh…”
“Yeah!”
They’re lazy. Depressed. The possibilities ran through his head but in reality he had no idea. “It’s hard for them,” he said.
“Will it be hard for me?” Jack asked.
Damn. That one came back fast. “You’re more like me, don’t you think? I don’t need that stuff.”
Jack nodded. “We’re different from them.”
“That’s right, but like them, too. It’s complicated.”
Jack frowned and shook his head. “No, I don’t get it.”
Ian laughed. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But I need to understand.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
Jack sighed. “Fine. When are you going to start working on your robotics stuff again?
“I was actually hoping to rest up a few more days. Then I guess I’ll start working with Larry again.”
“But you said you hated working with him. He’s a jerk.”
“Did I say that? No, I couldn’t have.”
“Dad, he’s a jerk! He comes over here and puts his hands all over Mom and Stacy.”
“What? Don’t say that. He’s just… being friendly.”
Jack crossed his arms and scowled. “You know that’s not—”
“Listen. These are big people issues. You’re only nine. You shouldn’t be worrying about stuff like this. Let me worry about it, okay?”
Jack smiled. “I’ll let that go if you show me your old robots and we start working on a new one.”
“I don’t know, kiddo. It’s a long shot. We need money now. Or we’ll lose this place.”
“Come on, Dad. You have today. You can spend today on it. What else do you have to do today?”
Ian opened his mouth to protest but Jack ran out of the room and quickly returned with a dusty box. Jack dropped the box on the floor in front of his dad, opened it and pulled out a series of black creatures in various shapes and sizes.
“Your old robots,” Jack said. He handed a crab-like, matte black robot the size of his hand to his dad. “Your old multi-tool is in here, too.”
Ian turned the robot over in his hands and rubbed his fingers against the rough, 3D-printed shell. The heavy, burnt smell brought him back to the lab at the University of Chicago. I loved that work. He gripped the item in his hand and felt the thrill of discovery and invention again, of the power in his chosen discipline. “The field has changed too much since then,” he said.
Downfail_A Dystopian Robot Rebellion Adventure Page 3