The Last Place to Stand

by Redshaw, Aaron K.

  It was 18 years ago. They were in a nice house with bright yellow walls. She was a little girl and her mother was getting tired of her whining. She had a whiny voice back then. At least that was what her mother said. When she was eating she dropped her spoon on the floor and started to cry. Her mother, frustrated for the thousandth time, turned around in a rage and hit her across the face with the palm of her hand. She kept yelling, slapping her once for each word said, “no more crying. Ever. Again.” The last hit with the word “again,” knocked her unconscious. When she came to, she was in the hospital. She was going to be okay, but her mother was not around. She never saw her mother again.

  Walking toward her office, realizing what she was dwelling on she caught herself slapping herself in the face as hard as she could, yelling, “stop crying!” What was she doing! She used to do that when she was young. She didn't even remember it until now. She fell down to her knees in the street with everyone ignoring her, receiving feeds, and she began sobbing. Looking up at the bright, hard sky, she cried, “God, help me! If you are out there, help me. I want out!”

  She stood up and realized she could not go back to her office. There was no way she could, she knew that now. Within a few moments, something had broken and she kept crying. Tears falling on her shirt, but she couldn't stop, didn't even want to because now she knew that she needed to cry. More than anything else she needed to cry. She didn't even have words for what she was feeling because she had no experience with this feeling. She just felt it and welcomed the feeling like the face of someone whose name she had forgotten.

  She got up from the pavement. People still going about their business. They were barely aware enough to walk, let alone notice someone else nearby. She broke into a run. She had no destination but felt the impulse to run and now she had no reason to resist.

  Chapter 21

  It had been a few days since Odysseus and his family were rescued by Samuel and his men. It was not as difficult a physical adjustment for him as it had been for X4287. From the room where Odysseus and his family slept he could hear X4287 mumbling to himself, moaning and crying through much of the night. It was a strange thing to hear, but then again to have the feeds suddenly stop must have been like losing touch with family. It sounded horrible. Since he had never allowed the feed processor to be installed in their chips they never had to go through such an adjustment period.

  As the morning sun climbed over the horizon, Odysseus awoke and headed into the room where the old man had been, but he was gone. Seeing Poke clean up where the old man had laid down, he asked, “Where is he?”

  “He wanted to go for a walk,” she said.

  “I sure hope he'll be alright,” said Odysseus.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “He'll be fine. I have seen this several times over the last couple of years, and since he survived the first night and has begun to talk to others, he will be okay.”

  “Well, that's good to know,” he said. Odysseus looked outside the window and felt the sun’s warmth on his face. His wife and kids still lay sleeping. The other day, they went on a hike to see the surrounding countryside. They were surprised to find that they could see the tower of Techcorp from the top of Tumuleiah, a small mountain, or tall hill they called it since the opinion was split in the community. The landscape was mostly dry, the dirt red, with small patches of grass and weeds interspersed throughout. It was not what Odysseus would have thought of as picturesque, but compared to the city he had been living in, it was a breath of fresh air.

  “So where are the children at this time of the morning?” said Odysseus.

  “Doing the usual chores,” she said. “They feed and milk the goats, and water the vegetable garden. The garden takes a while since the stream is about four hundred meters away and it takes refilling twice for each of them before they finish the job. After that they have school.”

  “And your husband?”

  “He’s talking to the Council to see what buildable land might be available for sale,” she said.

  A look of surprise came into his gray eyes, “Buildable land?”

  “For you,” she said. “You can't live here forever and I'm sure you would like your own place. The counsel determines who can live where and for how much.”

  “But Poke,” he said, “I haven't had time to make any money yet. I don't know what you use for purchase, but we only have the clothes on our backs.”

  Poke smiled. “The land came free for us, so it is sold only with the promise that certain kinds of development will be done on it. We all want to see improvement rather than disrepair and fallow ground. The specifics though take talking through. Also, some of that land must be available to the community.”

  “What do you mean?” said Odysseus.

  She picked up a broom and began to sweep. “Since community has no value in the world of the Technos, and since most of us came directly from there, we found that one of the things we were starved for was community. We don't want to talk to someone through the vidscreen or through feeds, as they use now. We want someone we can hug and have coffee with. We want to greet each other with a handshake or a hug or even a scornful look if we want. Something lacking in the feeds.”

  “For this reason,” she continued, “we decided early on that we wanted each piece of property to have at least one part that belonged to the community. That way, whether you like it or not, you have friends, perhaps right in your backyard, ready to be with you. There are no loners out here.”

  The door creaked open and in walked her husband, Sydney. He had a pack over one shoulder and was wearing a soft brown cloak and a darker brown beat-up hat. In one hand he was holding a well-folded piece of paper. “Well, we're done,” he said. “If you will agree to the terms, it's yours.”

  “I would like to see the place and know the terms,” he said. “I also need to have my wife in on the decision.”

  “Wise man,” Sydney said with a smile. He had one of those mouths that always looked like a smile was just about to break. “In the meantime, have you eaten?”

  “Not yet. Believe it or not, I just woke up. What is the common meal around here? In our city we would take a few pills, maybe a nutri-bar, and hit the road for work or school.”

  “Well here,” said Sydney, “we eat these.” He took his bag off of his shoulder and took out a couple of brown eggs. “That is, unless we can get these!” Now he pulled out an egg the size of his head. It was white and looked as hard as a rock.

  “What kind of egg is that?” said Odysseus.

  “This would be an Ostrich egg. Good eggs, great meat!” he said with a smile.

  “I thought you said the kids fed chickens,” he said to Poke.

  “Well, yes,” said Poke. “That's for our home. This is from his work.”

  “So, what is your business?” said Odysseus.

  Sydney said, “Me? Well I raise Ostriches. I have a whole farm of them. I brought them here and I raised them, help them multiply, and harvest the meat and the eggs. I sell most of the eggs, so these are special.” Then, looking at his wife he gave a warm laugh. “Didn't you know? Sydney's not an author or pioneer. It's a place. It's where I'm from.”

  They could hear stirring in the other room. The kids were beginning to wake. Hamlet and Sam were the first up. Hamlet rubbing his eyes, said, “Whoa, Sam, look at the size of that egg.”

  Sam looked up. “What kind of a bird would lay a thing like that? It must be a dinosaur!”

  “Well, not exactly,” said Sydney, “just an ostrich.”

  “Cool!” said Hamlet.

  Poke took the bag and gave her husband a light kiss. “I'd better get these cooked up. It looks like the hungries will be upon us shortly.”

  She went outside to where the fire pit had a bright red set of coals already stoked from a previous user.

  Odysseus, seeing his wife stir in the other room, sneaked over to her and whispered into her ear, “Jane. Jane, I have something to ask you.” She
muttered something unintelligible. “Jane, how would you like to have your own place out here.”

  She was still tired. But in half consciousness she said, “Uh huh,” with an almost childlike girlishness. The kind that made him love her.

  Going back to Sydney, he took the paper from his hands, put it on the table and said, “So, what are the terms?”

  Chapter 22

  Samuel and his men knew chances were that they would be safe for most of the time they were in the building, but if they did anything suspicious, the cameras would take note. Cameras were monitored by a computer that would alert the authorities if it noticed anything unusual. This mission was only for information, so Samuel would take them inside, but their best tool for finding what they needed was Wallace.

  “Wallace,” Samuel said. “Where can we find out about new developments?”

  “On floor 398, unless things have changed,” he said. “You should find the developments awaiting approval or rejection. I know the woman who does this. Perhaps we can find out what we need from her.”

  “Great,” said Samuel. “For now, we should refrain from talking unless we’re alone and out of camera range. It would look suspicious. Conversations don't happen much now that they use the feeds.”

  “That's right,” said Wallace. “I almost forgot.”

  The five of them moved cautiously. On the first floor, their main goal was to get to a vertical transportation unit. The floor was enormous. It was where all technological ideas were submitted and converted into searchable feeds. There were seven long lines of people awaiting their chance to submit their ideas and plans. It was very seldom that a project was accepted, but when it happened it was the fulfillment of a lifetime goal for the inventor. Since technological advances were the highest achievement of man, the highest goal of an individual was to be a part of making such advances. The desire to be part of this great system was instilled since childhood. It drove much of what they did, dreamed about, and lived for.

  Even before reaching one of the lines they had to pass through a check-in booth where a robot asked mechanically, “reason for entry?”

  “Submission,” said Samuel. They were each given a green badge. After getting past the booth they walked up to the submission line. They stood there for a while and then pretended that they had to meet to discuss their submission in a corner. The corner just happened to be near the vertical lift. When the doors opened, Wallace whispered with urgency, “face the wall and take off your badges.” They did this. Turning around, he pointed to the camera above the door.

  “Good thinking” said Samuel. He pressed the button for the 398th floor. Almost as soon as he pressed it, they were there. Gravity dampers kept the G-Force down, so they had no feeling of acceleration whatever. The door opened.

  In front of them stretched a long hallway with wooden panels on the lower half of the walls. They walked with purpose as though they worked here. Their chips gave all the right signals, so they were not worried about being identified as not belonging. If a person was here, then that meant they must work here since the system would not allow others to enter. Good covert chip design on their part.

  They walked down the hallway, going by doors on both sides, mostly closed. Another group of men walked by and Samuel and his men were careful not to say hi or do anything else to cause suspicion. They just looked straight ahead and tried to ignore everyone. Just like the average workers, receiving feeds and sending information, paying no attention to the world around them.

  Toward the end of the hall, they saw a hatch on their right. This was the normal mode of transport in this building, but not for them. Chavez had a fear of enclosed spaces, so they ignored it and moved on. At the end of the hall, they saw a door, but just as Samuel was about to reach for the handle, Wallace pointed to a door on their left. Samuel turned and opened it. As they stepped out, Wallace whispered, “That other one was for food.”

  “Oh,” said Samuel.

  They entered a huge room. It was the size of a warehouse, but broken into small workspaces. Partitions were interspersed throughout, because people who worked here did not get distracted. They had complete focus on their tasks. Without the use of additional technology, workers received and sent business-level feeds. “This is technical support,” said Wallace. “It's worldwide, so it takes a lot of people. Different shifts go all day and night so those on other continents and time zones can get help as well.”

  They walked along one wall ignoring people who passed them from time to time. Samuel observed that there were no windows. How very depressing, he thought. How can these people live this way?

  It took them several minutes to cross the warehouse sized room. On the other side, Wallace whispered, “This is it.” They opened the door.

  Chapter 23

  X213 had been running for just a few minutes before she was out of breath. Exercise was not emphasized in this society. She sat down, no longer able to cry. Feeling a little numb, she wondered what she would do now. She thought about going back to work, but that was enforcing the very restrictions that had dominated her as a child. No feeling, no independent thought, like machines doing what someone else wanted. In this world there was no sense of creativity. There was no art, no music for entertainment. There were just the feeds, and work. She thought about taking the chip out of her head, but then thought that if she did this, the authorities would either take her away as a deserter or come looking for her thinking she had a malfunction and needed repair. The chip itself had this signaling device. Though she couldn't turn it off, she could limit the number of feeds she received so she could think.

  As she sat, she wondered who she would miss at work. No one, she realized. Not a single person. She didn’t feel close to anyone because she never talked to anyone. Of course there was that guy she had talked to earlier that day, but he was an anomaly. She remembered how he had said hi to her, the conversation replaying in her memory. He had said some unusual things. For instance, he said words like, community, time, rest, and he did not sound happy. She had heard about him. Even though she didn't know his name, she had heard that he had lived with the Outcasts and then, seeing the light, knowing that the Solpaths had the true path to a brighter future, he came back. He had to go through quite a bit of testing and trial before they would accept him in his current position. They had to make sure he wasn't a spy.

  It was no longer the case that spies worked for other companies trying to bring a product to the public before another company. It was not even true that one country vied for power against another using technology as a weapon. The world was now under one government and had only one goal: to better themselves by bettering technology. It was a wonderfully united system. Instead of companies competing with other companies, there was one company, Techcorp, which was owned and run by the government. When the government owns everything, there is no competition and everyone is happier. And because the country was now run much like a huge company, the Director of Operations was the leader of the country.

  Her thoughts went back to that man again. He had a look in his eyes she had seen before. She had known what it was at the time, but she didn't want to think about it. She had blocked it out through the distraction of business. If you run fast enough, you don't notice the ugly scenery. That was what she did. She knew what that man felt and it made her uncomfortable. She knew it because she had seen it. In the mirror, before she took her pills some mornings. He wanted out too, the same way she wanted out.

  She wondered if he cried also. Did he have the shakes like her? Was he suffering the same things, but unwilling to admit it even to himself? She found herself hoping so, because the alternative was even worse. What if he knew his life was built on false hope and lies that he told himself? What if he was going through the motions, hoping that someday he would start to feel better, knowing that as long as he stayed in this job, in this apartment, in these meaningless almost faceless relationships, things could only remain the same. Thi
ngs would never get better, because the problem wasn't just the way he felt. It was where he was and what he did. It was the life he built for himself.

  She knew it was a lot to read into a two minute conversation. She knew she was being silly. But she also knew that look, and that didn't lie, because she had seen that look every morning before taking the pills and pretending one more day.

  She knew she couldn't go back to work. But that man had no one to talk to and he had no way out. Even though she didn't know the answers, she at least was starting to understand the questions, and some people might go through their whole lives and never get that far.

  She knew she couldn't go back to work. But she also knew that when she saw that man, she saw herself; and who could leave themselves behind when they could help, make a difference, be someone to offer hope?

  She knew she couldn't go back, but now she knew. She would.

  Chapter 24

  In the mass of people there was unrest. Little Brother knew it and they were there for those who understood it. For those who were on the edge, they sometimes helped out. Over the last three years, more citizens were leaving the city and joining the resistance or leaving altogether to live among the Waldenese. What was interesting was that more had been deciding to stay and join the effort recently. Zach thought that was an odd thing to do. But then again, that’s what he was doing.

  He picked up his two-way radio and called out, “Chai, are you there?”

  “Yes,” said Chai.

  “What's going on in there?”

  “Samuel and his men entered the building probably ten minutes ago. We don't have any way to contact them, but we can pinpoint their location on the 398th floor.”