The Life You Choose and That Chose You

by Figment Publishing

  For a tick I think the ol’ g-ma bout to start up on a right ol’ rant just like them good ol’ days. When I was your age. If we be down, we laid in the sun. We needed some oomph? Sugar loaf. None of this blue pill in the morning. Purple pill for lunch. Honestly. What you think? You think everyone ever lived was crazy? No. No. I tells you what it is. You just be lazy that's all. I tell you who's crazy. It's all you sitting here taking your crazy pills all day. But the g-ma just takes another bite of chicken.

  Tonight ol’ G-ma not here for the ma. Tonight, G-ma here for me.

  ‘Harmony,’ says I smiling, cause I know all them Emotamin colours. Feeling blue, suck on a new you. Feeling mellow? Drop a yellow…

  ‘What's that, lovey? Did you say something?’

  ‘Harmony,’ repeats I. G-ma still stares at the ma. ‘Sorry lovey, can't hear.’

  ‘Forget it,’ says I. Well sort of says, sort of mumbles. If she don't hear me the first time, ain't no reason she gonna hear me a second, and it don't give how smart or nice what you be saying is, anything said three times sounds a fool.

  I says, ‘Can I be excused, Pa?’ to him whose eyes are closed.

  ‘Mmmmmm…’

  So now I be in me room scanning some piece-of-shit article in the latest issue of Censored, ‘Middle Class: the new Working Class’. Til that there door swings open, and the blue light flicks on and my screen be dissolving.

  It be the g-ma. And she wants to talk. I knows this because the first things she says be, ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Oh no, G-ma, we be good,’ says I.

  ‘Serge,’ says she, ‘we are not good.’ And I sees by looking at her that we be not good at all. ‘Now. Tomorrow morning. Your mother…

  ‘Yes, G-ma.’

  ‘Please don't call me that. Look. If we're going to get you into this school—’

  ‘Ain't no-one getting me into no school, G-ma.’

  ‘Please don't call me that.’

  ‘Sorry. Grandma. But still. Ain't no-one getting me into no school.’

  ‘Well not with that attitude you won't, not with that attitude at all.’ And the g-ma sits down. It too be a long haul, this one. ‘You just remember…Other kids like you. Other naturals. Some of them aren't so lucky. The B-classes, and the C-classes. Sometimes I wonder that you forget what it means to be an A-class, young man. These days? No-one even thinks about it. You get tested. You get the shot. But back then. People were a lot more political. No-one knew what was right or wrong. Your parents…’ She be whistling and shaking that soft ol’ head of hers. ‘You have no idea how scared they were. I mean you wouldn't think it now, no you wouldn't think it now. Your pa, the way he sits around, natural's natural, real is real, imperfections are perfections, it's all well and good for him now. But then. Then! I tell you. He and your ma didn't get a good wink's sleep for three solid days before they went in to get you tested. And your poor ma, she was six months gone. She and your pa, why, they were so relieved when the test came back as A-class, no likely behavioural problems, chemical normalcy. I tell you now, my boy, it's all well and good to champion the high road when the low road wasn't ever on the map. Some other kids, whose parents did take that high road, the B-graders, the C-graders, they couldn't get a chance like you've got here. No how. No way. You just remember that.’

  I contemplates all that the g-ma be saying. She can be a real ol’ sneaky one, the g-ma. ‘But, what if Pa be right? What be the point in being a natural? In having a personality? You go to that school, they gonna make you act like you ain't.’

  ‘You've never had no problems. Never needed no pills…’

  ‘What if I don't wanna go to no sappy newbie school. I ain't a newbie.’

  ‘Oh, Serge. Honestly. These things you say. Your pa's a fool to be putting such ideas in your head. A downright fool he is. Now you tell me, how do you plan on getting a job without first going to school? What do you plan on doing with your life? You want to sit around all day like your ma? If I've told you once, I've told you twice, the best thing I ever did in my life was work. Oh yes…’ G-ma can be funny like that. She never worked proper a day in her life. But she sure do like to bang on about it. Who knows what be the best thing she ever done. Ma be always telling me I the best thing she ever done. But I don't think the g-ma be saying that about the ma anytick soon.

  ‘You will try won't you?’

  I feels soft for her I do. And I got the itch. So, ‘Yes, G-ma,’ I says. ‘For you. I will try…But you'll see. Won't do no good.’ Who knows? Maybe come tomorrow I will be trying.

  ‘Good. Now one thing we're gonna do,’ the g-ma tells me before she leaves me room for that night, ‘is get you some new clothes. My oh my. What sort of good school would take you in that outfit?’

  Now, I not be a fan of going to the mall with the g-ma. Neither be a fan of the clothes G-ma buys me. But I'm a good sport. So I says, ‘Okay.’

  Course ol’ G-ma wants to walk to the mall but that be no good. Can't be running into me gang with the g-ma. Can't tell her that. Not nice to be ashamed of your g-ma. Finally we agree to train in. This means we must walks for twenty ticks the wrong way, but this way is full of saps hanging out with their own sappy g-mas, none of my gang'd be caught noshing round here no way.

  Along the way me and the ol g-ma make very polite conversation.

  ‘Why oh why did I let your mother marry that man. Shoulda known. Shoulda known.’

  ‘Shoulda known what G-ma?’

  ‘Please don't call me that, darling. You know how I hate it. Oh, you poor thing. It's not your fault, not your fault. Oh. What if this school won't take you? What then? What then?’

  ‘Whose fault is it then, G-ma?’

  ‘Grandma, darling, Grandma. Oh, that man. That man. What are we gonna do about that man? And your poor mother. Sick in bed all day. Honestly.’

  ‘Sorry, Grandma. But don't worry. Ma's not sick. She be perfectly happy in that bed all day. She'll be surviving in that bed long after you're departed. We'll look after her.’

  ‘Oh. After I'm departed. After I'm departed. What will happen to you all after I'm departed. What kind of life is it? To sit around popping pills all day?’

  And like this we makes our way down the 136 A to Line C Stop 86, where we have to wait thirteen minutes for the train to come, takes us to the Crundun Mall. I counts every one of them minutes, by the second.

  ‘C'mon, G-ma,’ I says when we arrive. ‘Better get in the front carriage with the guard. Don't want no trouble from no young ones.’ I is being real gentlemanly here and the g-ma be all happy face about it. The guard looks at me real rough like, but when G-ma explains we be off to the mall to get poor me, ‘Not his fault he's a natural', some new clothes, the guard smiles and lets us in. Still he watches me real hard up the whole way there. When the train pulls in, some kerfuffle breaks loose up back and the last I sees of him the guard be chasing me mate Billy Bob up the stairs to the mall. Sure am glad we hadn't sat up back. Wouldn't want Billy Bob to see me with the ol g-ma. He can be a real bully, that Billy Bob.

  I tries to get the g-ma to take me to the RTD for me new rags but she be having none of that. Marches me straight up to NEW and has me all kitted out in one of them sappy tracksuits that be all the fashion. They be true awful these tracks but I'm being a good sport, so I lets G-ma have her fun. I even call her Grandma at the credit-counter. Give her a big smacka on the cheek and says, ‘Thanks, Grandma, you're the best.’ G-ma be so pleased she turns red like she's been socked instead of smackered.

  Then we leave and I tells G-ma I be gonna go to the ol’ library hall for a while. I'll meet Ma and Pa at the school later. This is when things go bad. For a hairy minute I thinks she be coming with me. But finally she lets up and I be on my way to that library on my lonesome. Well not straight to the library. First I goes to the bin where G-ma threw out me old clothes. Then I quick puts them back on before anyone sees me in the sappy tracks G-ma got me dressed in. Then I takes the tracks back to the credit-counter at NEW a
nd returns it. The lady looks at me right awful but gives me the credits. So now I be on my way to the library to hunt down ol’ Billy Bob. Rich with 34 credits in my pocket.

  I go through them front doors, into the foyer with the bright lights, white walls, hard floors. Sign in with the ol’ lady, who gives me another right rotten glare, mutters the usual ‘Goddamn naturals', and I makes me way past the big book room to the stairs down back. Them dirty stairs that take you to the garbage dump area. Opposite the dump there's a green door and it's to this door that I proceed. It be a real right heavy metal door, like a door to a vault in them ol’ bank-robbing flicks. If you didn't know to throw your weight at it you wouldn't ever know it opened, it be that heavy.

  Inside the whole troop be here. Cut their cotton socks up. Billy Bob, Xan, Brooke and Jackson. The here is called the Butcher and all the staff dress like, that's right, butchers. There be only three staff on tonight. All lined up looking at me like a couple of right baby killers. Between me and them nothing but smog, happy chairs, an’ some ol’ bookcases. Even the odd book here and there. Plus all them voices talking shit bout this and that. This here the only place I ever sees smoke inside and it balances out all them other places I sees no smoke by being extra smoky. Could cure a pig in this butchery. The reason there be so much smoke is in the fact of all the bacci and whatnot everyone puffing away on. The sweet smell of fuck you come get me.

  In the now I have crossed the zigzag course of ol’ crummy happy chairs that be meant to look like they can't afford no better. But for real they just likes it. Me and Billy Bob don't reckon it ever be cleaned once proper like. And they do that on purpose too. Maybe if someone loses control of his lower regions. Maybe then they clean it. But lots of people bring shit and leave it. There be hundreds of felt hats stuck to the ceiling, each lit up by a little light inside. It always be very dark, but cause most of them lights be popped it'd be dark anyway, with just lots of little lights hidden behind little felt hats.

  I produce the acquired credits from my pocket and announce my arrival. ‘It's time to get high, my pretties!’ The result being I am greeted with much brou-ha-ha from the ol’ troop and before I even sit proper like Billy Bob scoops them credits out of me palm and makes for the bar.

  The ol’ butchers behind the bar are giving me better looks now. Very approving like.

  ‘So, what you done to get that?’ starts up Jackson.

  I smile and shrugs me shoulders all secret like. ‘Anything new?’

  Jackson smiles and shrugs, not secret like, bored like.

  ‘Let's do this shit.’ Billy Bob be back from the bar in a flash and places three yellow tabs and one pinky on the table in front of us.

  ‘Why one be pink?’ says I.

  ‘Bottom of the barrel my friend. Bottom of the barrel. All the same homemade shit but.’

  I shrug. Ain't me gonna be having no pink one. I'm straight for the yellow. Brooke goes pink.

  ‘And now we wait!’ Billy Bob settles back looking mighty happy with himself and then looks at me, all happy with me too. We wait precisely eighteen minutes and then the old rumblings start in the below. I am to the shitter quick smart, where the last two meals come out like a waterfall. The pills are good. Three maybe five minutes later I am out. All the boys are lined up, hopping about, pushing their faces here and there like baby-doh. I be taking my sweet time getting out of their way.

  ‘Fark.’ Billy Bob is all up in the shitter now and be all gagging, making a right scene. ‘What nuclear dinner you been feeding on?’ The chicken. I feel sorry for Xan who'll be last up. I return to my seat and settle in for it. It comes hard and fast. Like the ol’ brain be expanding. Not in some sappy metaphorical understanding-the-universe way but literally expanding. I lean forward and steady myself against the table. But then it feels like the brain got literal left behind. Like it still be hovering right where me skull was a minute ago, waiting til I comes back. I tell you now I don't like this hovering feeling one bit. I go back for that fucking escaping brain quick smart. Everything starts to disintegrate: me nails fall out of me fingers, me hair gets longer and longer, me neck's the goddamn longest neck in the world, as long as me goddamn hair. It's all a bit achey-achey. And I gots to use me fingernails to check me face still be there and me face to check me fingernails still be there.

  The boys are back. I don't know when the boys got back but poor Jackson looks like he be having a right ol’ time of it. The next thing I notice is being on the floor. That sweet smelling damp vinegary carpet and me be getting real religious. I am being all like, ‘It's okay little floor, it's okay.’

  Some ticks later one of the butchers saunters over in their casuallike way. I can see better now. He hands us each a doob and everyone lights up all grateful like. I pocket mine and smoke on Xan's. Getting up and out before my turn to spark up comes round.

  I walks back through the heavy door, up them dirty stairs, and down the street west ways. The school be a good twenty ticks away. Just enough time to clear the ol’ head out and get there fresh up. I look down at me clothes and am glad the g-ma will not be there with me. But it be hard to think about anything for long. It be very wafty wandering through them streets all dazed up like.

  I gets to the school and finds the reception place. It be a beautiful ol’ building it be. One of them fake brick and sandstone numbers. Course when I goes to run me fingers over them, they be melting in a waver, and I be left standing here with me arm outstretched touching up plain ol’ data blocks like a nuffhead. Inside be all high tech. Electric writing walls. Data banks. Everywhere saps lined up two by two in their sappy tracksuits. I stop. Sappy suits or not I could watch them playing with electric writing walls for hours. Me head still breathing a bit in and out from the ol’ butchers. Me back feels real tight. And all the little lights be dancing. I hates to think what this place'd cost the ol’ folks. The ol’ folks aren't here yet. So I takes me seat and waits. I am early. Ten minutes. Five minutes. Now I be on time. And now the folks be late. Five minutes. Ten.

  ‘Why don't we get started then?’ says the ol’ fella opening a door. It be a real door this one. ‘They can join us when they get here.’

  I comes in and takes a seat. It be a real right ol’ couch this one. Red brown leather with buttons pressed in making up some fancy man ol’ diamond pattern. Big swirly arms to boot. I feels very sinky in this big ol’ couch. I wish the ma and the pa be here.

  ‘So then. You're a natural?’ He be no messing about this ol’ fella.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ says I, being all gentleman like.

  ‘A-class I presume.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Hmmmm. Well. The thing is, son—’

  ‘It's okay, sir,’ I interrupt. ‘It was all me folks’ idea anyway. I'm not sure I even—’

  But it be his turn to interrupt, ‘Oh no, gracious no. That's not what I meant at all, boy. The thing is, we don't have any. Naturals, I mean. And well. I guess. What I'm trying to say is…We'd really like some. I'd really like some.’

  I be contemplating him and that carpet there moving real prettylike under his big ol’ heavy desk, ‘This ain't no equal opportunity number is it, sir?’

  ‘Oh no, son. No…it's just…I guess it's a personal thing of mine.’

  I be getting the impression this man be a bit of a queer ol’ fella. Not many folk trust a natural kid. A kid without the shot. I sure do wish the ma and the pa be here for back up might anything go funny. I thinks of the g-ma at home. I sees her sitting in Pa's happy chair. Twisting her lips. I have no idea where the ma and the pa be right now. I sees them waiting somewhere. The ol’ electric car be broken. Or lost. Walking through a maze of electric walls. Running through them. Trying to find the office. Arms waving. But there always be more electric walls in front of them. Nothing real.

  ‘The thing is, sir. It's like I said. I ain't really interested in coming to no sappy school for newbies. It be my parents’ idea. Not mine.’

  He is looking at me very one-eye
d like. ‘You will try,’ the g-ma is saying to me. But it is said now. And now I would like very much to leave. My skin be feeling all itch itch-like. And that back of mine be starting the ache. Plus the doob be twitching in me pocket. This be the thing about feeling things. I mean really feeling. There always be the numbness after. The drain.

  And on and on and on it goes. But, ‘It's like I said, sir. I ain't real interested anyway.’

  ‘Well, if you're sure then.’ He gets to his feet. But he give me one of them ol’ fella looks like he don't really think I be sure. Or maybe just thinking I be high.

  I am shaking his hand at the door. This man be real ol’ school like. Shaking hands and what not. ‘You know, son.’ I am not his son. ‘You seem like a bright boy. There really aren't many of your kind left. Our kind I should say. These days, everyone's getting the shot. You…’ It be the longest handshake I have ever shook. ‘You make sure you…’ He stops. And the handshake be over now.

  Now the nodding begins. ‘I will, sir.’ I turn to walk down the hall of electric walls. I feel I be the only solid thing in it. As if the very data block floors might dissolve under me any tick now. The fella follows me. And it be real awkward I tells you. Here I am focusing very hard, working out which walls be real walls and which walls be writing walls. And the electric lights they be moving. Plus any moment that floor gonna be dissolving. And all the time, this ol’ fella by my side, he be watching me.

  ‘You got kids, sir?’ I ask. It feels awkward saying nothing.

  ‘Yes, son.’

  ‘They go here, sir?’

  He nods.

  We have reached the street now. ‘Well, sir.’ I offer my arm and we shake hands again.

  ‘Son…’