Dreams Ltd

by Veronica Melan

  Using all my strength I pushed the fear away and concentrated on the picture. At first, my eyes went over the black sticks, clinging onto each and one of them, looking into every stopping at the smallest detail. How could I find the seat number amongst them? Gradually my eyes got tired from the scrutinizing and I looked at the entire picture once again; and at this very moment I thought I was beginning to understand something. Not allowing myself to think about the fading seconds I relaxed my eyes even more and tried to focus somewhere behind the piece of paper and almost jumped up with joy. Of course! Damn it! It’s a stereoscopic image! Once I managed to catch the right angle and not allow my eyes to focus anywhere else I immediately saw the number “17” made out of black and white lines - thanks to a friend of mine who took me to an exhibition of stereoscopic paintings several years ago! At the time I couldn’t understand how people could see things in the abstract colour paintings but eventually I learned to relax the eye muscles and started to enjoy seeing familiar outlines where you would never had thought they could be.

  Jumping with happiness I ran to the seat number 17 and my bottom was immediately pressed against its rigid surface.

  A woman behind me said quietly:

  “You managed. You only had five seconds left...”

  Happy and calm I sat there in silence, listening to the buzzing and creaking of the bus, looking at the scenery out of the window. This time the route was different to the one the taxi driver took earlier - now we were driving on the outskirts of Tally. I made this conclusion because of the farms, ranches and fields that we were passing. The mansions were seen in the distance - beautiful looking, mostly two-and three-storey houses. There were people working on the plantations - their bare, bronze, sweaty backs were glowing in the sun.

  How hard it must be - to work at noon when the heat is at its worst!

  The heads of some workers were covered up with hats but most people did not have anything on their heads. I felt sorry for these workers – do their employers care about their health at all? And if so, why don’t they buy or make some paper hats - they would only cost pennies. As soon as another corn farm disappeared around the corner there was an unploughed, baron land stretching out as far as the eye could see. But as soon as I thought there will be no more farms another one appeared in the distance – a white three-story stone house surrounded by the greenery and flowerbeds looked not just impressive but grand and somewhat terrifyingly beautiful: as if the architect of this building wanted to create an impregnable fortress at first but then changed his mind and added several columns, a few balconies and elegant roof to the construction. Right behind the garden which shaded the windows from merciless sun with green oaks there was an endless field with some tall plants growing on it. The bus was driving too far away from the field and I couldn’t see the kinds of plants that were growing there but the apparent difference from all the other farms was very noticeable: the high voltage electric fence was surrounding the whole area. The fence had interlacing razor wire, its spikes looked like sharp teeth twisted together and not leaving a single hole between them. A second later I saw some security guards walking along the perimeter with whips in their hands and this whole image made me feel sick. Oh, my God! Whatever will I see next? What have these poor people done to be placed in such conditions? However, some crimes carry the death penalty as the punishment and perhaps the option to work on the fields was not the worst they had. Yet the thought of me being amongst them was unbearable. I took my eyes off this awful view - are the guards’ whips real? - swallowed the lump in my throat and fixed my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me.

  The air on the bus was so stuffy it was making me feel very thirsty, some water wouldn’t go amiss. Following this thought came another one - I desperately wanted a yogurt and some orange juice for breakfast this morning but I didn’t have any in my fridge.

  This morning I rummaged through all the food in the fridge and decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to buy some vegetables for lunch and indulge myself in something sweet. It’s time to get familiar with the local shops, not that I was too fussy about what I eat but I was conscious of the fact that I’m limited in points. I was desperately missing food shopping itself as I really liked walking down the aisles full of different and bright packages. Sometimes I would just aimlessly push the trolley for my own enjoyment reading the labels, admiring neatly placed piles of fruits and vegetables, breathing the smell of the food from the deli. Although I haven’t got the means to treat myself to everything I wish - at least while I’m in Tally, I could afford to buy a few things. All the more so as Christopher Laroche has now been found and I just needed to get the parcel over to him and then I can go home. Home! This word felt as sweet and appealing as a scoop of an ice cream on a dry swollen tongue of some homeless person. Even the thought about Alex didn’t seem as depressing as before I immediately kicked myself for allowing this to enter my mind.

  As soon as the surroundings became more familiar I picked up my bag and headed to the doors. The bus stop was located exactly opposite the one I saw this morning on the way to the bank and on the corner of the intersection I noticed a glass building with a sign "Supermarket № 2".

  That is exactly what I’ve been looking for! And waving my light bag I went towards the building.

  It was a lot chillier inside the shop. By the entrance doors I took a creaky trolley, put my bag in it and went further down the shop anticipating a pleasant time food shopping. My suspicions about the possible lack of selection did not reflect the reality – the choice of food here was amazing. On my way towards the diary section I was lazily glancing at the fat cans of corn and peas, pickles and a huge variety of olives. The abundance of goods and a nice melody coming from the speakers made me feel very optimistic. I looked in the fridges at the diary department and began choosing yoghurt. I really fancied something low-fat with a strawberry flavour but since the labels weren’t really descriptive I took the first yoghurt pot and read the text on it: “Dairy product with milk thistle”.

  What’s milk thistle? What does it taste of? I couldn’t recall if I’ve ever heard it so I placed the pot back and decided to check out the other products.

  Here they are! I found some strawberry yoghurt and chucked it in the trolley; the price for a pack of four was only half a point. Singing under my nose to an unpretentious song I continued with the shopping. What was next in my list? Oh, right! Juice!

  A row of multi-coloured bottles stretched all the way from a wall to cashier. First thing my eyes caught was bottles of spirits which meant that alcohol was allowed in Tally; there were eighteen different kind of beers - one particular label caught my eye and I stopped to make sure I was seeing it right - yes, it really was “Erminger”!

  It’s genuine Balais Island’s beer!

  “Erminger” was very hard to find even in Klendon-City, it costs a fortune to import from the island and sometimes the price for a bottle would reach ten dollars. I turned the bottle, checked the bar code to ensure it really was the Balais Island’s one and placed the beer back on a shelf. I then looked at the price and laughed - it was two and a half points for a bottle, considering that one local point is one thousand dollars, this bottle was two and a half thousand dollars - it was probably the most expensive beer in the world! Yet some people could afford it here, perhaps the ones who drive brand new cars with tinted windows. If beer was this dear I decided to check how much the cognac was and as I saw the price my jaw dropped to the floor - fourteen, nineteen, twenty two points…

  Mama Mia! I’d rather drink some plonk and collect the rest of the points for my freedom or even cut the drinking out completely.

  I suddenly remembered that I must call Laroche soon; I stopped looking at the crazy price tags and hurried towards the bright coloured bottles of juice. I chose quite a cheap one (only 0.1 point a bottle), put it together with the yoghurts and pushed my trolley forward. On the way to cashier I noticed some biscuit packs with the corner of my eye and wi
thout even looking at them properly I threw a pack with a picture of a chocolate bar in the trolley but because of my careless movement another pack fell on the floor; I quickly hoisted it back and finally took a place at the end of the queue.

  The cashier was a clumsy skinny guy about eighteen years old. Looking at the fresh and clean skin on his face I thought that he must be using a bunch of facial creams in the mornings. A badge with his name was attached to an ironed crispy blue shirt; his hands were hovering back and forth, scanning the products.

  “Your total is twelve and two-tenths of points.” I thought his voice sounded immature and a little camp.

  The man scanned his bracelet, then pushed his stuff to the end of the conveyer belt and started packing.

  There was another young guy and a woman in front of me but they only had a loaf of bread each so soon it was my time to pay.

  “Good afternoon.” The cashier greeted me with the same monotonous voice dragging out his words in an odd manner.

  “Hello.” I put the yoghurts, bottle of juice and pack of biscuits in front of him.

  “Four strawberry yoghurts - half a point...” the cashier mumbled, scanning the items. Kenneth - his name was written on the badge. “One bottle of orange juice – one tenth of a point, two packs of chocolate biscuits - four-tenths of a point...”

  I tried to interrupt him and explain that I’ve only got one pack of biscuits but Kenneth didn’t even look at me and kept on scanning.

  “ ...one yoghurt with milk thistle - two-tenths of a point and one Erminger beer - two and half points.”

  I opened my mouth in astonishment and looked at the belt once again - there were four strawberry yoghurts, one bottle of juice and one pack of biscuits; I looked at Kenneth.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t take the yoghurt with milk thistle or beer and I’ve only got one pack of biscuits. You can see for yourself, all my items are here.”

  The cashier glanced at the belt and then at the cashier till screen.

  “Plus three points fine for an additional time spent in the supermarket.”

  “Wha... What are you talking about?!”

  “Your total is six and seven-tenths of points.”

  “Are you mad?!” I was outraged, but I quickly tried to cool down. It must be a mistake! Yes, just an annoying mistake and everything will be settled soon.

  “Please take a look at the belt again.” I asked him as calmly as I could. “Can’t you see that I haven’t got a second pack of biscuits, beer or yoghurt with milk thistle? I’ve only got...”

  Kenneth interrupted me before I could finish my sentence.

  “Any items the customer picks up from the shelves must be paid for. It is the supermarket’s policy.”

  I was taken aback.

  “But I only looked at them and put them straight back!”

  The guy shook his head.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I stared at him trying to digest what I’d just heard.

  “If I’m paying for a beer, another pack of biscuits and yoghurt I should take them, right? So I’ll go and get the...”

  “As you’ve already placed those items back on the shelves and if you take them again, I’ll have to scan them once more.”

  “What do you mean “scan them once more”?! You have just scanned everything and I still don’t have them, therefore I am entitled to those items!”

  “No, miss.”

  After this answer I was ready to rip up Kenneth’s fresh face to pieces.

  “What does this all mean? I’ve paid for the goods which I’m not allowed to take now?”

  “You placed those products back on the shelves, which means you’ll be charged twice if you take them again now.”

  For a few seconds I seriously considered the idea of beating the cashier up but after a few deep breaths I just said slowly:

  “Ok. I understand the policy. Does this also mean it’s pointless to call the supervisor?”

  Kenneth shrugged his shoulders as if saying “It’s totally up to you”.

  “Then what are the additional three points for?” The situation seemed like a disgusting farce to me now. The tone of my voice was full of poison and I felt if I say one more word there will be a toxic green cloud in front of me.

  “Each customer is allowed ten minutes in the supermarket area and every additional minute costs one point. You’ve spent thirteen minutes in here.”

  “Ten minutes a day?! Are you crazy???” I shouted paying no attention to the growing queue of shoppers behind me. “Do you think it’s enough to get everything I need? Do I have run like a sprinter and throw everything in the trolley without looking at what it actually is?”

  Kenneth barely winced and answered, looking away:

  “You either you pay for what you’ve got or...”

  “Precisely! I’d like to pay exactly for what I’ve got and nothing else!”

  - ...or I’m calling the security and you’ll be speaking to the supervisor.”

  I knew that any conversation with the supervisor won’t be much different to this one I shut my mouth and let my bracelet to be scanned. After the scanner made a short sound Kenneth gave me a plastic bag.

  Gritting my teeth and holding back the comments about such ridiculous rules and camp cashiers I threw my shopping in the plastic bag and ran out of the supermarket.

  Once I was outside I kicked the nearest bin as hard as I could and the second I did that my bracelet beeped. Well, I have just been fined again!

  Feeling incredibly angry I didn’t even look at the screen to find out how big the fine was and just hurried back home.

  The trip to the shop became somewhat of a lesson to me. I sat on the balcony, looking at the mountains drowning in the summer heat; a cup of cold tea gleaming in the sun was next to me. Jenny was right - carelessness in the city could lead to disastrous results in a matter of just few days. At the beginning I didn’t think I should take the local rules or my neighbour’s advice seriously, and I was so wrong. Now my bracelet was showing only forty-two and a half points instead of fifty. In just one day I lost seven and half points! I paid 6.7 points in the shop, 0.3 points for the bus tickets (I put in some serious effort in finding out the bus ticket prices) and I was fined 0.5 points for kicking the bin. Welcome to Tally!

  Damn it!

  My mood was in tatters.

  Laroche didn’t answer two more of my calls. Soon there will be a sunset. What if Laroche doesn’t answer my calls at all? What if he is dead? What should I do then? I decided not to think about the worst case scenario and began to compile a list of principles I was going to follow from this very minute: rule number one - I don’t buy anything unnecessary and only get the essentials. If my score will go into a minus I can be thrown out of my “hotel” room and relocated to “hell”, and Tally is the “hell” for many people. As long as there is some food in my fridge I must not go shopping or take trips anywhere. Now I was quite certain that another journey to the city will cost me an additional couple of dozens points.

  I sighed heavily, got up and went back into the room. An hour later it was time to give Laroche another call. As I was putting my trainers on I was begging - please answer me this time. Please, just answer!

  “Christopher? Christopher, is it you?” I was almost shouting down the phone because instead of the answering machine there was a real voice.

  “Yes, Christopher speaking. Who is this?”

  “This is Shereen! I’m sorry I forgot to introduce myself when I left you a message.”

  “Was it you who left the message?” Now Laroche seemed excited.

  “Yes, it was me! I have a package for you, where and when can we meet up? We must do that as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, you are right, we must meet up as soon as possible. How do we do that?..” I could feel the intensity in Christopher’s voice and I could hear his frantic breathing. “Shereen, I’ll send a taxi for you and I’ll pay for your ride, is it OK with you?

&nb
sp; “Yes.”

  “Please tell me where do you live?”

  I told him my address.

  “OK, I’ll call the taxi then. Please don’t forget to bring the parcel.”

  “Are you kidding me?”