I felt stupid, like one of those guys in Basic who carped about every little thing. I said, "Well, I'm just getting tired of having a machine tell me when I'm right and when I'm wrong. I can figure that out on my own."
The voice said, "I see." And then it didn't say anything.
I tried to wait until the voice said something else, but the quiet made me very nervous. I said, "I don't mean to be rude or anything. I am very conscientious about my job. It's just that I feel like a moron or something, always having the watch tell me what I'm doing." I knew that I wasn't expressing myself very well, but I couldn't remember any of my Power Words just then. "It bugs me, you know?"
The voice said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that that's not my business. I'm in maintenance. If you have a concern about HR policy, you'll need to take it up with them."
I thought about my HR Sergeant in Basic, and tried to imagine telling him that I didn't want my watch to talk to me anymore, and nearly jumped out of my skin. "That's OK," I said. "My lunch is almost over. I'll try them after my shift."
The voice said, "Thank you for calling Maintenance! Have a nice day!" Then my watch told me it was time to get in the truck and start driving again.
Vasquez kept looking at me all day like I was some kind of crazy.
#
Hi Mom!
Tell Buddy he doesn't have to keep on calling me to say thanks. I'm just glad that he and Carla are all right. Tell him to enjoy his promotion!
When I got to the office this morning, I found Rhindquist wearing his old-fashioned pusher's uniform. I hadn't seen it since the day we met. I was surprised by how normal he looked in it: he could have been any pusher.
"Well, aren't you dressed for success?" I asked him ironically.
He spun around and said, "I've got something new. For three of the days that you're here, I'll be on a truck with Vasquez. You fill in for me, take any calls, handle any business. Order up some movies. We'll meet up on the fourth day here and I'll answer any questions you have. If something urgent comes up, give me a call."
I felt a little out of my depth, but I wanted to demonstrate my take-charge attitude to Rhindquist, so I smiled and said, "Can-do, boss! Knock 'em dead!"
Tony came in and snorted a snide laugh at Rhindquist. Rhindquist raised an eyebrow at me, and I took the hint. "What are you smirking at, mister?" I barked, like my old Sarge. "You find something amusing about the official uniform of a representative of this organization?"
He cast his eyes down and mumbled "No."
I was enjoying myself. I said, "I can't hear you, mister!"
Tony looked at me, his eyes focused in space beside my head. "No, sir!" he said.
"Get downstairs and see what the pinheads on the third floor are shredding. Sort it, box it, and have it on my desk by lunch, hear me?"
"Yes, sir!" Tony shouted and hustled out of my office.
Rhindquist shook his head and looked admiringly at me. "Sonny-boy, you're going to do just fine," he said.
"You know it!" I said.
Rhindquist gave me a big thumbs-up and left me alone.
So there I was, alone, in my office, in charge. Sort of.
I played with my TV for a while. The TV at the office gave me all kinds of access that I didn't have at home. I clicked on something, and there were the personnel files! I felt like a snoop, but it was too fun to stop. I opened my file, and Vasquez's, and a whole bunch more. Boy, the Company sure knows a lot about us! My file went all the way back to the Infirmary where I was born, and then I clicked on your name, and there was everything about you!
Mom, I didn't know you had your tubes tied!
I followed our family tree up and down, and I came to Buddy. His file was spotless, all the way up to the spying thing. I clicked on the name of the Security Manager who'd "caught" him, and do you know what? He was engaged to Carla last year! Carla is his ex-girlfriend!
Well, it was pretty easy to see what was going on, let me tell you. Buddy got married to Carla, and her ex-boyfriend had them locked up. I tell you, I was so angry, I felt like I would bust. But I'm smarter than that. All it took was a few minutes' typing and wham, I'd gotten Buddy and Carla out of jail, given them promotions, and had the Security Manager busted down to a janitor. I bet that confused him!
So it really wasn't much. It scares me to have that much power, Mom, but it feels good, too. I made sure that all my friends back home were set up all right, too.
You just wait till your Christmas bonus, Mom!
Tony came up at lunchtime, with three big boxes of papers. He'd sorted out the memos, personal documents and the inter-departmental communications. They were pretty interesting reading! Especially the personal documents: shopping lists, letters home, love-notes and gossip. It was like being the queen ant, sitting in the middle of the hill, seeing what all the drones were up to. I sent Tony out to get some more.
It was getting onto movie time when the phone on my desk rang. I answered it, "Jasper Whitehead, Special Vice-President."
The person on the phone shouted at me, "Get me McBride, now!"
I felt sick. I said, "I'm sorry, he's not available right now. I'm filling in for him. Can I be of service?"
The person laughed at me. "Well, maybe you can at that, son! Rhindquist has been promising to do something for me for months now, I guess he's just been too busy. Do you have his access codes?"
I said I did, and turned on my TV.
"Good boy," he said. "Now, I want to find docket 09.3457. You know how to open a docket?"
I told him I did and found the docket. It was called "Microsoft," and it had a long Action-Item List attached to it. I didn't really get most of the Action Items, but they were all checked off except one.
"OK -- there's an unchecked item at the bottom of that list. It's called, 'Deploy Strategic Negotiation Tool.' You see it?"
I said I did.
"Check it off," he said.
I did. The TV asked me if I was sure. I said I was. The TV asked me again. I said I was, again. I told the man I was done.
"Good kid. Thanks! Tell McBride I like his new hire."
He laughed again and hung up before I could say "You're welcome."
My phone rang again. It was a reporter from PR 43, and she wanted to know all about my dynamic leadership in handling the Microsoft Crisis. I didn't really understand the question, but they taught me what to say to the press in Basic. I said, "The File-O-Gator Organization is a diverse multinational sovereign power that is a World-Class Leader in its fields of Operations, a status it has achieved through the diligence and responsibility of its Human Resources, which are the Heart of every Organization."
The reporter sounded impressed. I thanked her and hung up and turned on the TV and flipped around. There was a reporter lady on the screen, showing satellite maps of Microsoft, like a weather map. Except that instead of lightning bolts or a smiling sun, there were tanks and soldiers and flames. The TV said that bold directives from Special Vice-President Jasper Whitehead had brought an end to the Microsoft conflict. It said that a classified number of File-O-Gator troops had occupied the conflict-zone, deploying strategic neurotoxins and nonlethal influenza vectors, resulting in an estimated 85% compliance-and-conversion rate among the Microsoftians.
Tony came in with more boxes and looked at me. He said, "God, what's eating you?"
I told him. I didn't know what else to do. I thought that maybe I could get Rhindquist on the phone, but he'd left me in charge.
Tony smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "Well, there you go. You've made your first executive decision."
I said, "I didn't make any decision!"
He just laughed and pointed to the TV, which was showing pictures of a city just like File-O-Gator, the buildings all collapsed and burning. He said, "Sure looks like an executive decision to me." The picture panned over an apartment building that was split down the middle, the apartments naked and exposed, the people who lived there dead and sprawled or alive and hanging ove
r the edge, vomiting.
Oh, those poor people!
I didn't know what I was doing!
I spent all last night throwing up, and I'm not sure if I'm going to go to the office today.
#
Hi Mom!
Well, I didn't go to work yesterday. Instead, I got out of bed, sat on the sofa in my shorts, and turned on the movies. My watch got loud and angry, so I stuck it underneath my pillow. Then, messages started appearing on my TV. I ignored them. I ate some cereal around 11, and I threw it up right away, so I stopped trying.
Someone knocked on my door after lunch, but I was watching a good part in Wall Street, so I didn't answer it.
I fell asleep after Wall Street, and woke up after 18h, because someone was really giving my door a pounding.
I opened the door, not caring that I was wearing my shorts. It was Rhindquist. He looked sad, and beaten. You know what he did? He gave me a hug! Boy, that was weird.
He came in and sat on the sofa. I sat next to him. He didn't say anything, just picked up the remote and put on a funny movie, Blazing Saddles. When that was over, he put on The Princess Bride. I never laughed so much!
We watched movies all night. They were all funny. They took my mind off things. We both fell asleep, sitting on the sofa, but when I woke up, I was in bed, and Rhindquist had put the blanket over me. He was asleep on the sofa. His phone was on the TV, and its batteries were on the floor.
I was really hungry, so I ate three bowls of cereal and some toast and an apple, and I must've woken Rhindquist up, because he came into the kitchen.
"Little man, you had a busy day, huh?" he said.
I said, "I can't do it."
He got a GatorCola out of my fridge and drank it. It was pretty strange to have the CEO of the whole Company drinking a Goke in my kitchen for breakfast. It really made him seem like you and me, not like a powerful guy from the stories.
He burped.
He said, "I understand."
I said, "Why did you do this to me?"
He said, "You've been in my shoes now. Wouldn't you do anything to get out of them?"
I said, "But why me?"
He sighed. He said, "This sounds worse than I mean it. I thought you were ignorant enough to enjoy it."
I said, "Thanks a lot." Is there anyone out there who doesn't think I'm a retard?
He said, "I don't mean it in a bad way, really. I thought you were naive enough to just do the job, take the perks, and sleep well at night. I was wrong. You're too smart."
It didn't make me feel any better. I went back and sat on the sofa and put on a movie, Horsefeathers.
Rhindquist watched the movie with me, and when it was over, he said, "You don't have to do the job."
I said, "So what now? You pick some other poor retard and give him the old screw-job?"
He said, "I guess so."
I said, "In that case, I'll do it."
His mouth dropped. He sat down and put on a movie, Pink Flamingos. What a sick movie!
When it was over, he said, "In that case, I'll do it."
And then I had the best idea I've ever had. It was so good, I couldn't say anything for five whole minutes. Mom, you sure didn't raise any idiots!
#
Hi Mom!
Well, today was just fine. Me and Rhindquist got to the garage in the nick of time and it's a good thing that he turned our watches down because they give me a headache!
Vasquez was waiting for us when we got there and he had on his mad face for the other guys but when me and Rhindquist got on the truck, he smiled and winked at us.
I drove and Rhindquist hung onto the back and he shouted at me to go faster and I just ignored him! He kept on shouting saying, You pinhead my grandma drives faster than you do and she's been dead for years! And that made me laugh so hard I nearly rolled the truck and Rhindquist nearly fell off and he was pretty quiet after that!
We got to Finance 38 and I started lifting the boxes and Rhindquist as usual took too long to push them. The security guard and me both laughed at the big pile of boxes outside the truck, and he offered me a smoke, but I said no thanks.
I went inside and told Rhindquist to Get it in gear! And he just tossed me the paper he was reading. It said MEMO TO ALL EMPLOYEES REGARDING NEW SECURITY MEASURES. And underneath, it said, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY ALL AC OUTLETS ARE TO BE COVERED WHEN NOT IN USE.
We laughed and laughed and laughed, and then my watch blipped back on even though Rhindquist had turned it off! It said, "Laugh it up, retards!" in Tony's voice.
Rhindquist put his arm around my shoulders and said Jap my prodigy, when you are right, you are right. He's the perfect man for the job.
--
Afterword:
This is the first story I ever sold to Patrick Nielsen Hayden, who also bought "The Things that Make Me Weak and Strange Get Engineered Away" and all of my novels. I wrote it in one big gulp while shut in at a hotel room in Montreal on a business trip. It was snowing outside, and I could see the shredding vans moving through the streets below, and I typed and typed until my hands hurt.
EUGIE FOSTER
Eugie Foster (December 30, 1971 in Urbana, Illinois) is a Nebula Award winning Asian American short story writer, columnist, and editor. Her stories have been published in a number of magazines and book anthologies, including Fantasy Magazine, Realms of Fantasy, Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show, and Interzone. Her collection of short stories, Returning My Sister's Face and Other Far Eastern Tales of Whimsy and Malice, was published in 2009.
Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast, by Eugie Foster
Nebula for Best Novelette 2009
Each morning is a decision. Should I put on the brown mask or the blue? Should I be a tradesman or an assassin today?
Whatever the queen demands, of course, I am. But so often she ignores me, and I am left to figure out for myself who to be.
Dozens upon dozens of faces to choose from.
1. Marigold is for murder.
The yellow mask draws me, the one made from the pelt of a mute animal with neither fangs nor claws—better for the workers to collect its skin. It can only glare at its keepers through the wires of its cage, and when the knives cut and the harvesters rip away its skin, no one is troubled by its screams.
I tie the tawny ribbons under my chin. The mask is so light, almost weightless. But when I inhale, a charnel stench redolent of outhouses, opened intestines, and dried blood floods my nose.
* * *
My wife’s mask is so pretty, pink flower lips and magenta eyelashes that flutter like feathers when she talks. But her body is pasty and soft, the flesh of her thighs mottled with black veins and puckered fat.
Still, I want her.
“Darling, I’m sorry,” I say. “They didn’t have the kind you wanted. I bought what they had. There’s Citrus Nectar, Iolite Bronze, and Creamy Illusion.”
“Might as well bring me pus in a jar,” she snaps. “Did you look on all the shelves?”
“N-no. But the shop girl said they were out.”
“The slut was probably hoarding it for herself. You know they all skim the stuff. Open the pots and scoop out a spoonful here, a dollop there. They use it themselves or stick it in tawdry urns to sell at those independent markets.”
“The shop girl looked honest enough.” Her mask was carved onyx with a brush of gold at temples and chin. She was slim, her flesh taut where my wife’s sags, her skin flawless and golden. And she moved with a delicate grace, totally unlike the lumbering woman before me.
“Looked honest?” My wife’s eyes roll in the sockets of her mask. “Like you could tell Queen’s Honey from shit.”
“My love, I know you’re disappointed, but won’t you try one of these other ones? For me?” I pull a jar of Iolite Bronze from the sack and unscrew the lid.
Although hostility bristles from her—her scent, her stance, the glare of fury from the eyeholes of her mask—I dip a finger i
nto the solution. It’s true it doesn’t have the same consistency, and the perfume is more musk than honey, but the tingle is the same.
With my Iolite Bronzed finger, I reach for the cleft between her doughy thighs.
“Don’t touch me with that filth,” she snarls, backing away.
If only she weren’t so stubborn. I grease all the fingers of my hand with Iolite Bronze. The musk scent has roused me faster than Queen’s Honey.
“Get away!”
I grab for her sex, clutching at her with my slick fingers. I am so intent that I do not see the blade, glowing in her fist. As my fingertips slip into her, she plunges the weapon into my chest, and I go down.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, the scent of Iolite Bronze turning rank, I watch the blade rise and fall as she stabs me again and again.
Her mask is so pretty.
2. Blue is for maidens.
The next morning, I linger over my selection, touching one beautiful face, then another. There is a vacant spot where the yellow mask used to be, but I have many more.
Finally, I choose one the color of sapphires. The brow is sewn from satin smooth as water. I twine the velveteen ribbons in my hair, and the tassels shush around my ears like whispered secrets.
* * *
“I don’t think I’ll ever marry,” I say. “Why should I?”
The girl beside me giggles, slender fingers over her mouth opening. Her mask is hewn from green wood hardened by three days of fire. Once carved and finished, the wood takes on a glass-like clarity, the tracery of sepia veins like a thick filigree of lace.
“Mark my words,” she says. “All the flirting you do will catch up to you one day. A man will steal your heart, and you’ll come running to me to help with the wedding.”
I laugh. “Not likely. The guys we know only think about Queen’s Honey and getting me alone. I’d just as soon marry a Mask Maker as any of those meat heads.”
“Eww, that’s twisted.” My girlfriend squeals and points. “Look! It’s the new shipment. Didn’t I tell you the delivery trucks come round this street first?”
Anthology of Speculative Fiction, Volume Two Page 396