by S A Shaffer
“Oh, and David,” Blythe almost shouted over the whistle of the wind. “Welcome to the Third District family!”
At the pull of another lever, the wall snapped shut and David heard the sound of the Cloud Cutter’s burner engage and then dissipate into the distance.
He stared for a few more moments before scooting his chair away from the false wall. If it opened while he leaned against it, he’d have plenty of time to scream before he hit the ground.
The Third District family … he mused. It had been a while since somebody had called him family. He stood and walked around his desk to pick up the papers when he had a thought.
“It’s not so much that I need you; it’s that I don’t want you not there.” Blythe’s wordplay gave David an idea. He didn’t need to prove that their district was a better option than the Sixth District; he just needed to prove that there was a good reason to have the facility at the Third and a good reason not to have the facility at the Sixth. Those two reasons did not have to be connected. That meant providing jobs to the people of the Third District would qualify as a “strong Assembly interest” in the Third District. It didn’t matter that the Sixth District had the same interest.
So now he just needed a reason why the Sixth District project situation was a burden to the local populous. David slumped back in his chair. He was right back where he had started. Letting out a deep sigh—he’d been doing that a lot recently—he stood to his feet. It was 5:00, his brain was dead, and he still had a long way to go before he could rest it. As he walked out of the office toward the sky-liner dock, he mumbled the same question over and over in his head: Why is it a burden to the local population?
◆◆◆
David had a window seat on the sky-liner trip back to the Capital City. He watched as the ship dipped beneath the cloud cover and into Úoi Season’s light rain. Once the sky-liner had landed, David walked through the grimy streets toward the train. As he walked, he marked the difference in people on the lanes as compared with those on the Capital Orbital. Down here his suit stood out as high class compared to the drab brown vests and leather overcoats everyone else wore. Many of the passersby had bionic appendages like David’s fake arm. They whirled and hissed with movement as the owners bustled about. Here and there, a prosthetic eye bulged on the side of a pedestrian’s face. David always wondered if that kind of eye squeaked something awful inside the wearer’s head as it swiveled about. A deliveryman wheeled by, calling everyone to stand to one side, which of course they did not. The man’s legs were gone at the calf, and he’d affixed permanent rollers. David hoped he had his delivery job for a good long while, as those upgrades wouldn’t be much use in any other job. However, the most significant difference at the ground level was that nobody smiled—all glares, scowls, or vacant expressions, many with creased foreheads. A majority kept themselves to themselves, rarely looking up and never looking anyone in the eye. Many meandered aimlessly without any apparent duties. Every corner David turned, he saw users exhaling unnatural clouds of drug infused vapor—whether they were prescribed or of the so-called recreational sort, he didn’t know. These days, what difference was there?
He turned off Durbin Street and took an alley toward the train station. As he walked, he thought of Blythe and how exciting it would be to work with him in service of Alönia. His thoughts were such that he didn’t notice the rancid stench of the alley or the shadows lurking on either side. He limped along, fingering Blyth’s sterling in his pocket and considering how he would spend it.
Sweet buns filled with cream? Or perhaps some mountain lamb to go with dinner? It had been a while since he’d had that. Or maybe he should save it for this month’s rent. He barely had enough as it was.
Suddenly, something caught his foot and he sprawled forward onto his hands and knees. The cobbles felt wet and sticky, and not from the day’s rain.
David rolled over and saw what, or rather who, had tripped him. Two men in bowler hats with half-lidded eyes and scruffy faces grinned down at him.
“What’s in your pocket, lad?” the smaller of the two asked.
“Nothing—” David said, but before he could say any more, the larger man put one dirty boot on his chest and the other on his mechanical arm and pinned him to the ground.
“It don’t look like nothin.” The larger man said. He slipped a hand in David’s pocket and drew out the silver coin. Then he smiled and held the coin up between his dirty fingers.
David reached for the coin with his free hand, but the big fellow was too fast. The coin vanished, and a revolver appeared in its place.
David cautiously moved his hand away in a gesture of peace. “Well, nothing worth dying for at least.” He added.
“If that’s nothin, then we’ll be taking nothin from you.” The smaller said and the other chuckled.
“Yeah, you got anymore nothins on you?” The larger asked. He pawed through David’s clothes with his pudgy fingers.
David grunted under the larger man’s weight. “I don’t know which is worse, being robbed, or being assaulted by your terrible sense of humor.”
The large man put a little more weight on David’s chest, and his breath rushed out.
The smaller man upended his satchel and kicked the contents around on the cobbles.
“Well, well.” He said when he kicked David’s copy of House Law over. “It appears we have a student of the law on our hands.”
“We don’t like the law.” said the larger man.
“True enough,” said the smaller man. “But this is an excellent opportunity to ask a legal question, given we have ourselves a captive audience.” He wiggled his eyebrows at David and the larger man guffawed. “Is it against the law to steal… nothin?”
The larger man laughed even harder, finally removing his foot from David’s chest and stepping back. He flipped Blythe’s sterling to the smaller man who caught it and held it out between a thumb and forefinger.
“We thank you for this generous contribution to our evening’s entertainment.” He said.
David raised himself to his elbows and looked at the coin. “What contribution? I see nothing.” He said.
Both men pinched their eyebrows and looked at each other and then broke out laughing.
“He’s got a point.” The smaller one said. “Technically it cost him nothin!”
They tipped their hats to David, and chuckles echoed off the dirty cobblestones as they turned to go.
“He’s a good sort to mug.”
“Aye, why can’t they all be like him? No fuss, good coin…”
Their voices dissipated into the distance, and David climbed to his feet. He tried brushing himself off, but he only succeeded in smearing the slime into his jacket. He groaned and picked up his satchel and replaced its contents.
“Great job David!” He said as he stomped down the alley. “Why don’t you give all the vagabonds your money.”
He was still sulking as he climbed the stairs to the train station. He waited on the platform until a massive steam engine hissed into the atrium, its triple steam stacks filling the room with pungent humidity. It looked like a long, slate-colored snake as the seamless length of its body curved with the track and jerked to a stop with a hiss. The sides of the compartments opened outward, creating a ramp downward and a cover from the elements for times when the train stopped at an outdoor station. Fresh rainwater ran down the side of the caboose, sending up puffs every time drips hit the exhaust valve.
David followed the other commuters as they packed into the train, filling every available seat and then some. As the sides sealed shut, David looked out a narrow window at a few latecomers racing down the platform toward the uncaring train. It rolled forward without them. Watching from his window, he saw the atrium columns flash by faster and faster as the train gained speed. Within a few seconds they were outside the station and speeding along a sky track two dozen fathoms from the ground. All of a sudden the ground fell away and waves replaced streets. They’d left C
apital Island and were crossing the bay. A dozen other tracks stretched like strings across the bay at a few other points along the island, interlacing the small Capital Island with the larger island portion of Alönia and the Capital City Transportation Facility on its shores.
Within twenty minutes David hobbled down the train ramp and across the street to the transportation facility. He missed the first flight back to House Braxton’s only transportation facility by a few dozen passengers. But once the second had landed and he settled into a seat for a long flight, exhaustion smothered him like a wet blanket. He might have nodded off, but this particular airship captain was very different from those on the Capital City sky-liners. Several of the passengers looked a little green by the end of the trip. The idiot couldn’t even keep a consistent lift in his balloon, and this flight cost money.
As the flight drifted down for a landing at the Seventh District, he looked at the towering mountains surrounding them, tops capped with snow. A stab of pain shot through his heart as guilt washed over him adding to his already sour mood. He hated those mountains. He kept his head down as he walked through the streets and caught the Braxton train on the final leg of his journey. Once back at House Braxton, he paused to check his mail at the post office next to the transportation facility. He purposefully had all mail sent there. Most employers would feel squeamish if they knew where he actually lived. Probably think he’d rob them.
“Bills … Why are they always bills?” David mumbled to himself as he walked between the city power plant and Linden Airsail Limited toward a dingy apartment facility. A half-lit sign designated it as “Linden Lodgings.” Most of the residence referred to it as “Lousy Lodgings.”
He stepped into his apartment steam lift and caught a strong whiff of mildew. The tube was leaking again. Sure enough, after he’d selected the top floor, the lift moved sluggishly. Water dripped on his head, but he didn’t move. Why bother?
He fumbled with his keys for a moment until he managed to unlock his apartment door. His apartment was just as worn as the rest of the facility, but much cleaner. Everything that could be maintained with clean living and a little elbow grease, was. His palatial abode encompassed three rooms: a kitchen, a living room, and his mother’s room.
David dropped his keys into a jar on the counter and shuffled toward his mom’s room.
“Mom, I’m back,” he said as he pushed the door open.
Inside sat his mother on a torn, old easy chair, wrapped in blankets. She didn’t answer. He knew she never would, but he couldn’t bear to stop talking to her. Beside his mom, on a stool, sat Ms. Ella, an elderly lady from down the hall who’d agreed to look after his mother during the day in exchange for some help with her rent.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Ella,” David said. “I got mugged by a couple of—”
“That’s quite alright, dear,” Ella said as she stood, clearly missing what he had said. “She’s already had dinner and a wash. There are some leftovers in the preserver if you’re feeling hungry.” She patted David on the cheek as she walked by him. “Go on now. I’m sure you want to tell her all about your big day.”
David gave a little smile and said, “Thanks again.”
Ella left the apartment, and David turned back to his mother, looking as motionless and lifeless as ever. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Pulling up Ella’s stool, he sat down and picked up a comb from the table. He shoved all his fatigue aside, doing his best to put on an energetic tone as he brushed his mom’s thin, graying locks.
“Well, I’m back, and it was fantastic. I got to ride a sky-liner. I walked through the Capital Orbital and even sat in on an Assembly. Can you believe it—an Assembly on my first day? And Blythe—blimey, he’s fantastic. Just as kind and considerate as I thought he’d be. Paula—that’s his secretary—she’s really sweet. She set up my entire desk without me even asking.”
David sat there, brushing his mother’s hair and telling her about his entire day, every detail, from what Paula wore to the motion Speaker Walker had personally made, though he left out the part about his run in with thieves. All the while his mother said nothing—no nodding, no speaking, not even blinking, and barely even breathing. The doctors had said there was nothing they could do. She would remain like this until either her organs gave out or old age took her, eating from a tube and reliant on David and Ella to clean her. It had been like this for four cycles. Time allowed David to recognize a few subtle responses. She could still cry—though whether they were tears of joy or sorrow, he did not know. Sorrow, probably, since there wasn’t much to be joyful about in her situation. But every rare once in a while, David could swear he saw a twinkle in her eye, like when he told her his score on his PLAEE, or when he got his position with Representative Blythe. Tonight, however, their conversation ended with tears running down his mother’s cheeks. He didn’t know why, and she couldn’t tell him.
David hugged his mom. It was all he knew to do when the tears came. He hugged her until he thought she might be asleep. Then he lifted her emaciated frame from the chair, carried her to the bed, and tucked her in.
After slipping out of the room and closing the door with the deftness of a cat, David walked to the kitchen and spooned some of the leftovers onto a plate. He slid it into the steamer for a few minutes, infusing some appeal back into the lumpy Charra gruel. When the steamer chimed a moment later, David took the plate and walked to his bedroom, which also functioned as the living room, his study, and his exercise room. Some might complain, but in David’s opinion he thought it quite convenient. Everything he needed was at his fingertips. His bed—or couch, depending on the time of day—was only a step away from his bookshelf … or wardrobe—again, it depended on the time.
This apartment sat amidst the top floor of Lousy Lodgings’ seven stories. The air-conditioning had never worked, and the heat only worked in the warm seasons. At first David filed work orders with the landlord, but when several additional charges showed up on his rent bill for Apartment Modification, David got the hint. All in all, the rooms were hot and humid in Swollock and Prumuveour Seasons, and cold and drafty in Derecho and Taumore Seasons. Úoi Season alone presented a comfortable temperature. All this for the modest cost of seventy-five sterling a month. Nobody cared about the poor—at least nobody but William Jefferson Blythe IV.
“You’re a good man, Mr. Blythe,” David said as he stepped over to an enormous pinboard that covered one entire wall of the apartment. It was his method of study. A few months ago hundreds of PLAEE questions had plastered the surface. Now a picture of Blythe hung in the middle of the wall, surrounded by Blythe’s wife, every known associate, and his proposed motions—even details as simple as favorite foods.
“Your social assistance programs are helping individuals all over the district,” David said. Just the other day he’d read a testimonial from a hopeless citizen who could not live a decent life. David had tried to enter the program for his mom’s sake, but they were not yet eligible. It was underfunded, given the number of applicants. If the district manufacturers paid just a little more, there would be enough funding for all.
David spooned a bit of gruel into his mouth, then he picked up a new card and scribbled down a new name.
“Lloyd Bentsen,” David said as he wrote. “Who are you? Investor? Accountant?”
He pinned the card next to some of Blythe’s other known associates. Sometimes David felt a bit creepy by his in-depth study of Blythe, but in order to please the representative, he needed to know what Blythe wanted even before he asked. All the same, he had to be careful to feign ignorance in the face of things he already knew. David looked at the card with Paula’s name on it. He added Hides her intelligence under the Notes section. David decided against adding a card about the district population distortion, given Blythe’s stern words.
“But we have new questions to ask, don’t we?” he whispered, moving to a blank section of the board, where he pinned up Alönia Public Pharmaceuticals and Don
Hezekiah Johnson, and to another section of the board, What is a burden to the local population?
David swallowed a few more mouthfuls of gruel as he pondered the new additions and walked to the window. His apartment, despite all its shortcomings, had one wonder. It was situated on the top corner of the building, and his room had windows on two sides. This provided him, on the rare occasion that the clouds parted, an excellent view of the sunrise and sunset.
It was setting now. Golden rays sparkled as they passed through the evening rain. Oranges, pinks, and purples cascaded across the undersides of clouds. Steam from the city power plant swirled with colors, and David’s entire room glowed with light. Jeshua’s creation was truly wondrous. That thought brought a pang of guilt. It had been seasons since he’d been to Sanctuary, or had it been cycles? He’d had a hard time making himself go ever since the accident, partly because he didn’t have time with all the extra work … and partly because he didn’t want to. Jeshua was out there, somewhere, but in the past few cycles he hadn’t been looking after the Ike home, and if he had, he certainly wasn’t smiling upon it.
David sighed. In the distance dozens of private yachts and skiffs glided into the city and docked at different towers in the residential sector.
“Must be nice,” David whispered. “No burden of commute. No muggings. No worry. Just off to dinner and then back home on your own private yacht.” He shook his head. “Talking to myself … again.”
David closed his eyes and let the day’s last light play across his face. When he opened his eyes, it was dark. He turned around and flicked on the only working electric light. He had to go to bed soon if he wanted a reasonable amount of sleep before he got up for his own commute. Why was it that House Braxton only had one air transportation facility servicing all seven districts?
How are the local peoples supposed to get any sleep if they spend six hours out of every day traveling to and from … work …