Houston, 2030

by Mike McKay

  “…Positive decision. In accordance to your medical history, provided to us by the office of the Surgeon General, the injuries, you have sustained, include, colon… Then, there are numbers… One. Amputation of right upper extremity through the shoulder joint, with satisfactory healing. Two. Amputation of left upper extremity at the level of upper third segment of humerus, with satisfactory healing. Three. Radical extraction of the right eye, with satisfactory healing… Why do they need to list all these? As if you forgot what is gone?”

  “Such are the rules, honey. It's a legal document, after all,” William said. “Please read on. Does it say it is taxable or not?”

  “About the tax – nothing yet,” she continued: “Four. Penetrating fragment wound of the left eye, with partial avulsion of the eyeball and cornea. Satisfactory healed, with remaining residual vision not exceeding three per cent… here in brackets: three per cent as a number… Funny… Five. Sixteen… in brackets: sixteen… superficial fragment wounds of lower face, neck and chest, satisfactory healed… You never told me there were so many, pumpkin, but I have counted myself, while you were asleep…”

  “As stipulated in the Orders on Policy for Military Disability Compensation, paragraphs two to seven, and eleven, sixteen, seventeen and twenty-seven… What is this crap, anyway?”

  “Oh, just some lawyers' crap. Paragraph seven is about missing one arm. They give thirty percent disability for it. Twenty-five, if it's not a dominant arm. Eleven is about missing the other arm in addition to the dominant one. Remember, I told you? On the Dumpster, the people without both arms were called ‘Seven-Eleven.’ Like that shop at the corner, which is now a bakery…” William explained.

  “Right! I asked you what the hell ‘Seven-Eleven’ means. That nurse… In Galveston. Called you so.”

  “Right, honey. The other paragraphs must be about the eyes, the wounds and all the other stuff. Besides the military lawyers, nobody understands this shite, even the doctors. Never mind. Read on…”

  “…The compound of your injuries constitutes permanent and irreversible disability of seventy-nine per cent… Brackets, with number… Why they write percent like this? Per cent! Funny. But wait a sec! Why only seventy-nine? Take Paul, our neighbor across the road. He came back from Egypt completely blind, right? He was boasting they gave him fifty-five percent!”

  “So what? Being blind is not a piece of candy, I can tell you this much.”

  “And your buddy at the end of the street? Darrel or Damian, what's his name? The one who took you to do the Loop, when I had flu? He is without both hands… Just hands, not all arms, – forty-five percent! Fifty-five plus forty-five is one hundred. I don't get it! They should give you one hundred percent, pumpkin!”

  “That is not how it works, honey,” William said. “For severe injuries, they count not what is gone, but what remains. It's called ‘residual functions.’ They explained this on the Dumpster. I have two legs, ten percent each. Hundred minus twenty is eighty. Obviously, they deducted one percent for the residual vision in the left eye. All point-zero-zero-zero-four megapixel of it, ha-ha… Fair enough…”

  “Fair, not fair… Who is the hundred percent then?” Clarice interjected.

  “Huh… Let say, a total brain damage. Like a vegetable. Feed on one side and remove shit from the other. Make sure you do both from the correct end…”

  “What if somebody is a ‘Quad,’ with no arms and no legs? Yeah! Just head and torso. Like our Jack-the-Rapper at the market?”

  “Jack? He must be, I guess, a ninety-five percent. Or even ninety. He is not blind, right? Two eyes, two ears. Can talk and even sing. Doing rap like a machine gun, as a matter of fact. That would be a residual of about ten percent. If he was totally blind, and totally death, and could not talk, it could make a full hundred. But in such case – he would not be Jack-the-Rapper anymore. Imagine if I lost both legs. In addition to everything else… You would drive me around in a wheelchair. And I would wet myself, like a baby.”

  “No, pumpkin. With the legs, we were positively lucky. I like you much better this way and not in the wheelchair. But: seventy-nine percent – it's definitely not fair.”

  “Never mind, rules are rules. I am happy with the seventy-nine. Have not expected much better deal. Please, read on. I am dying to know how much they calculated in total…”

  “OK, pumpkin… We respect and appreciate your sacrifice while defending our Democracy and the American Way of Life, and deeply regret the pain and inconvenience you are presently suffering… Right! Pain and inconvenience… Rest assured that no effort will be spared to re-integrate the military veterans into the society. Please allow us to use this occasion to outline the opportunities that exist for your further rehabilitation process… Rehabilitation process. Here are the numbers again… One. The Presidential program Limbs for Life provides veterans with free access to modern prosthetic devices and lifetime prosthetic assistance in the Government clinics…”

  “Skip this. On the Dumpster, they assured me I will not need any prosthesis. I am not any good for this program…”

  “There is a half-page story here… Blah-blah-blah… Ah, it does say at the end: regretfully, due to the nature of your injuries, the participation in the above program is not presently applicable for your case… Regretfully… OK got it. Moving on. Two. The State of Texas program New Hope Homes provides eligible disabled veterans with assisted living in the open type institutions… What does the ‘open type’ mean?”

  Mike explained before William opened his mouth. “It means, Rissy, you may leave at any time. It has been scientifically proven that the armless and legless dudes represent little danger to the society. But if you are totally bananas, they would lock you up in a completely different institution. The closed type. With guards and barbed wire.”

  “OK, got it. …Institutions… Blah-blah-blah again, for good half of a page. Peaceful surroundings… Recreation facilities… Medical practitioner on-site… Dedicated schooling facilities for children… Looks like a bloody advertizing. Did they say anything useful? Ah, here: you may apply for the life-time placement either alone, or with the members of your immediate family. The tenants are assigned to shared accommodations, considering approximately twenty square feet per person… The communal kitchen, laundry and bathroom facilities… Very shared accommodations, no doubts… Who would need such a crap?”

  “For the complete idiots only. If you are stupid enough to bring your ass in, they can stick you into some old factory building,” Mike interjected again from the corner. He was watching the evening re-run on TV. “In the middle of nowhere. The peaceful surroundings, my ass! Our neighbor at the 'Fill told us a story about one such ‘Home’ in Waco, Texas. Roughly, four hundred people. Bunk beds in an old railway depot. Three hundred and something cripples – like our Billy, or worse, ten or so women – wives, sisters, and such. And about six dozen desperate kids. For those, they indeed make a ‘school,’ – sit them at the yard, and one of the cripples mumbles them some lessons. One or two hours a day. No books. After the ‘school,’ they send kids around the city: looking for any food scraps and stealing…”

  “But you have to agree, if a vet has no family, this is not the crappiest option,” Mark pointed out.

  “Never mind,” William interrupted. “We are not after one of these shit-holes, anyway. Ris, darling, please keep reading.”

  Clarice continued: “OK, here at the end it says: we are pleased to advise that because your disability exceeds the minimum requirement of seventy five per cent, you and the members of your family are eligible for an immediate placement in the New Hope Homes program, and may apply in person to any of the facilities of your choice. Kindly note that in case you are accepted to such facility, the amount of your disability compensation outlined hereby will be reduced by 70% to offset the costs of the facility operation. Yeah, they said earlier: free accommodation. Crappy-crap…”

  “Anyway,” Clarice shook her head as if trying to remove the very not
ion about the ‘open type institutions,’ and kept on reading: “…Three. It is envisaged that the handicapped veterans will benefit the most by living within their native communities. Being supported by the family members and the neighborhoods, even the veterans with most severe injuries can live happy and fulfilling lives and become useful members of the society. It is understood that you have elected to reside with your family in Sheldon Reservoir area, Houston, Texas. You may consider applying with any non-government and/or religious charity organizations, as well as any veteran self-support groups available in your area. Kindly note that different charity organizations may stipulate different requirements for the participation in their support programs, and the disability level, accessed with relation to the compensation payment hereby, does not guarantee your eligibility for any particular program in question. You should apply directly to the non-government and/or religious charity organizations for further inquiries… Huh! What a reading.”

  “We are already through one page and a half, and they did not tell us anything new,” Mike pointed out from his corner, “first, they told us Billy has no arms and no eyes. As if we can't see ourselves. Then, they told us Billy may get himself an artificial leg, but unfortunately he doesn't need one. Why would he need a third leg, having two good ones, anyway? Then, they advised us we may send Billy to live in some shit-hole institution, with Ris or alone, which we will not do. Then, they told us: Billy would be much better off if he lives here with us. Wonderful! As if we didn't suspect he's better off here. Finally, they told Billy to go to the local Salvation Way and get himself the freaking donation bucket. Which he did – half a year ago. I wonder why these ass-holes in the Pentagon waste all the time and all the money writing this crappy-crap!”

  “I do not think they have wasted too much time and money on this letter, Mike,” Mark disagreed, “looks like a computer-generated document to me. Boilerplates. I think they have some kind of software: you type in the vet's name, address and other details, and it spits out the entire thing, inclusive of the addressed envelope.”

  “Let's get through it, please, please, please,” William begged, “I am dying to know how much we get, finally.”

  “OK, pumpkin…” Clarice continued. She was getting a bit bored. Her initial excitement was evaporating quickly: “The following information outlines the terms and conditions of the lump-sum compensation payment, which will be provided to you by the US Federal Government, along with your rights for any further claims. Please read it carefully. The lump-sum payment constitutes the whole, total, and final compensation for the above listed injuries, as well as any other medical or physical conditions, which may arise or be sustained as the consequence of these injuries. However, in case of a medical condition, which may arise due to your past service with the US Army Corps of Engineers, and not related in any way to any of the injuries listed above, an additional compensation claim may be made, providing satisfactory medical evidence exists to the latter… What a crap! They sad: read carefully. I don't understand a word…”

  “Oh, it's simple enough, honey. For example, we had chem warfare training in the boot camp. Pepper spray, nothing special. Let say, ten years from now, they discover this particular spray gives you a brain cancer. So if I develop a brain tumor, I still can come back and claim some additional money. The faulty spray has nothing to do with the booby-trap I've triggered, right?”

  “OK.”

  “Just the opposite, if, let say, I trip on the stairs, because I am bloody blind, and crack my head, because I have no arms to stop the fall. Then, I cannot claim more, because my broken skull is related to me blowing myself on that particular booby-trap back in '29. And we don't get anything else. Therefore, honey, don't hold your breath. You won't be able to claim the remaining twenty one percent of me. If I become a vegetable, you will have to look after me for no extra cash.”

  Clarice threw her leg over and sat on William's laps. She kissed him affectionately in the forehead while pressing her pregnant tummy over his chest. “I live with you, no matter what, pumpkin. Although, please do not start breaking your skull left and right! Talking of which, your flip-flops are slippery like hell, especially if they are wet. If it rains, don't put them on. Remember, how you crashed last Fall?”

  “You, honey, keep telling me the same things over and over again. Every time I trip, you tell me to forget the 'flops and go without. And every time I step barefoot in some crap, you tell me not to leave home without 'flops anymore. Now I am so confused. I may even get multiple personalities through this, what are you going to do if this happens? Not a word about the damn 'flops! Read on!”

  “OK, pumpkin,” agreed Clarice, reluctantly lifting herself from William's laps. Mark was sure that right now she was quickly getting multiple personalities herself. One personality wanted to throw the stupid letter to wait for another day and proceed with their usual hugging and kissing session. The other personality was curious and desperately wanted to know what the letter ended with. “…Medical evidence exists to the latter… OK, here starts the interesting part. Listen, pumpkin… Your lump-sum compensation entitlement is calculated based on the peacetime off-duty daily allowance, corresponding to your rank and qualification at the moment of your honorable discharge from the armed forces. In your case, such allowance equates to one hundred and forty-five dollars, zero-zero cents… It's like this in the text: cents. Who cares about the cents? Ricky the other day was doing his math, asks me: Rissy, it says here: two dollars and fifty cents. What are these cents for? But hundred and forty-five is a bit low, pumpkin. Even less than we collect for the Salvation Way. I remember, you told me you were getting six or seven hundred a day in Venezuela.”

  “Right. That's in the war zone and on-duty, honey. In the boot camp, we were getting two-ninety a day. Hundred and forty-five is exactly a half of this. Off-duty peacetime, as they said,” William explained.

  “As you say, pumpkin… The payable daily allowance is prorated to the proportion of your disability level at the moment of the present assessment, or seventy-nine per cent of the full amount entitled, resulting in equivalent daily wage of one hundred and fourteen dollars, fifty-five cents… Again, number in brackets… Hundred and fourteen backs a day? This is damn less than we make with a donation bucket, even on the wrong day…”

  “This is the trick they play while calculating the lump-sum compensations, kids,” Mark said. “The drafted private does not get that much in terms of the peacetime off-duty pay. On duty, the pay doubles, and then, there are further coefficients for the war zones. While the soldier is at war, the salary is actually pretty good. Besides, almost everything is for free: the food, recreation, uniforms, and so on. One would spend the money only on beer and girls. You can have a good life and save a bundle… But as soon as the draftee goes on disability, they whack the pay back down to the peacetime off-duty, and to add an insult to the injury, so to speak, multiply it by the disability percent. Another trick they play, is to assume that this low-wage income would be everything a healthy man could get in his life-time. As if there are no better paid jobs than to be a conscript private.”

  Clarice nodded: “Yeah, it says exactly this… The total lifetime income loss is calculated as the product of the equivalent daily wage by the estimated earning period. The latter is assumed to be the number of days between the date of the honorable discharge from the armed forces and the person's sixtieth birthday, rounded to the nearest hundred, with the minimum of 200 days. In your case, the estimated earning period is established at 15,300 days, resulting in the total estimated life-time income loss of one million seven hundred and fifty two thousand, six hundred and fifteen dollars, zero-zero C… And the same number – in brackets… Mark, how much do you get per year?”

  “Now? About seven hundred and sixty thousand, but it's pre-tax. Slightly less than six hundred, after tax, Clarice,” Mark responded. He expected William's compensation to be not too generous, but was unpleasantly surprised with the figure far less than th
ree million he estimated all way long.

  “OK, this would be about the same Dad makes in the FBI in three years,” Mike said from his corner. “Still, not too bad. It would take me at least five or six years to make the same bundle at the 'Fill.”

  William sat quietly, biting his lips. Surely, he also expected something far more significant.

  “Cheer-up, pumpkin,” Clarice said, “look at the better side of it. The glass is half-full! One point seven five mil! Not a fortune, but better than nothing…”

  “OK, honey, the glass is half full, and I am looking at the better side. Looking. With all my point-zero-zero-zero-four megapixels. Read on.”