“Uriah, I have to go to a meeting.” That was the last shred of politeness David would show Uriah. David was practically a confidant of the CEO himself and did not need to listen to the banter of an idiot. David did not bother to mask his disdain with sarcasm and said with an impolite overtone, “After such a glowing review from you, Nnect is really glad PPRE was a success. If I ever meet the guy that added your favorite clause to the PPRE, I’ll make sure to ask him to move next door to you so he can trade with me and hear all about your exploits. I need to go. Enjoy spending.” David turned to leave but was not done. Bitterly, he added as he left, “And go to Orns with you. PPRE was meant for human-doings with a chance at teeing up. Not sloppy employees who take from others.”
“Back off the steam, mate.” Uriah did not understand the sudden anger in David’s voice.
“No, you learn to keep your mouth shut.” David said as he shoved Uriah aside. Uriah looked hurt. David continued moving toward the MCM, leaving Uriah in the road.
Uriah’s face filled with contempt. “You hate me because I’m a Spender and I know how to enjoy life. I live life in the moment, tool. Forgive me if I don’t save and save and save so I can spend when I’m old and useless.” The crowd cleared a circle around Uriah.
A concerned citizen with a red HR hat put a hand on Uriah’s shoulder, saying, “Do I need to intervene here?”
Uriah spat at the HR representative, gestured illicitly at David, and screamed, “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”
“I am better than you, Uriah. Look here!” David showed him the A on his arm, the manager designation. Uriah comprehended what the A meant: David was now a higher-class employee.
The red-sleeved HR person bowed in respect to David and turned to push Uriah back.
Uriah said spitefully, “You’ve always looked down on me. Well, go walk around the MCM, and don’t you dare touch anything in case you’re tempted to spend.”
David shrugged and flourished a finger to say goodbye to Uriah, signaling the end of the conversation. He motioned at his watch and mouthed, “I’m late. Go retire yourself.”
“This is why you’ll be alone forever with no friends. You’re a corporate suck-up. You’re a self-righteous, stuck-up wannabe manager. I might have my problems, but at least people love me. No one will ever love you, arrogant Nnectonian. You’re an emotionless blue devil. If demons from a hellish dimension were real, you, sir, would be one.”
“That makes no sense, fool.”
“Tool!”
David left. Be the bigger man, he reminded himself. He chose to not let the incident hinder his otherwise wonderful day by dwelling on it. He stalked onward, letting the passing people wash over the path between them, erasing the foolish neighbor who was standing alone in the middle of the street. He leaped up the stairs into the atrium of the spending emporium.
The MCM seemed more glamorous than usual, and the multimedia marketing screens flashed with all sorts of must-have products. Featured on several large, imposing billboards was the PPRE, proudly advertised in Nnect blue. A conceited smile burst forth on his face. The news video streams and nosy news storytellers at every café station raved about PPRE. He could hear the media buzz. The MCM fairly hummed with talk of the Nnect service.
“I got her!” A proud thirty-five-year-old man came out to a roar of approval from his fellow citizens. He was sloppily drunk on booze and hysterical with happiness. A green glow emanated from his arm. “I get to see her next week for an hour.” A Thrive slogan on his torn shirt read human well-being division. He slapped his brand, stating, “I might even wear blue on occasion, to thank Nnect. They finally did something worth my freedoms and time.”
And it went on and on as David watched each of the Nnect relationship centers fill up with long queues of people eagerly waiting to get their relationships logged. Men and women—mainly men—filled the lines. Several couples, holding hands illegally, waited, too, freedoms in their hands. Mutual relationship investments, David assumed.
One such couple emerged from the Nnect chat room saloon distraught. “Damn the system and the stock,” screamed a brutish young man with a mop of brown hair. He hefted up a projector and launched it into the nearby crowd. “Which one of you bastards purchased my tee-up before me? I swear on all that is good and beautiful, I will end you and take it back.” A siren went off from down the massive commercial hallway, coming from the nearest QC substation.
The young woman had long red hair that matched her red-branded arm. Her cute rose dress was rumpled. She tried to hold the bullish man back, but he flung her off, her slim form not able to restrain him. Rage bubbled hotly in his eyes.
Several brave but foolish men stepped out of line to slow the angry individual down. “Hold yourself under control, Thrivan. If you lose your cool like this, you will be degraded and mayhap worse. Go burn some energy, or buy someone yourself. Be a team player.”
“Damn your peace. In this case, the market ain’t know best. I swear, I’ll find out who bought my partner’s time. Some creep.” He reached up and smashed the nearest Nnect PPRE sign, and crystals shattered and spread out with a somber hush along the marble floor.
Shhhwww. A QC officer arrived on the scene. His hovering single-man patrol vehicle stopped and waited as the man dismounted. Like a horse from Medieval Storyworld, the vehicle bucked and backed off when the officer waved it away. A binding rope in the officer’s hands lashed out and lassoed around the stocky protester’s neck. The officer tugged on the binding rope and whipped out stun cuffs in the same motion. A well-trained kick and tug put the angry fellow on the ground. The cuffs were on his arms and his windpipe squeezed tight in a few seconds. The fellow twitched on the ground. The arms of the law had him firmly restrained.
“Please let him go!” the young woman pleaded. “Charlie has a condition of anger. He is already taking the appropriate steps; he is visiting a Mindmonk.” Her tears streaked down her pretty face. She waved a desperate fist at the officer.
“I will damage your face product if you interfere with the law. This man is coming in for questioning,” the officer barked with a confident cadence. The polished buckles on his uniform shone. She did not listen. She reached a hand out, trying to tug off the windpipe rope that was stifling her partner.
Bam and thud. The officer’s fist launched with a twist. The knuckles of justice slammed into her jaw. A crunch, and the woman toppled onto her bound, writhing partner, a motionless human sack.
Disturbed and a bit disconcerted by the incident, David fled down the hallway just as a Thrive medic unit showed up for the woman and a containment QC unit showed up for the bound man, who still struggled helplessly against his captor.
Arriving at Cookless but still shaken up from the experience, David found himself unprepared to answer the restaurant hostess as he shuffled into the spectacular atmosphere of the “cook your own” bar.
“Person, please state your appointment time, and give me your code to validate,” said the woman from behind a silvery column adjacent to the restaurant’s imposing sign.
“Um, I, I, umm.” David coughed. “I am. I mean I do. I mean I have, ummm…” Not used to fancy, expensive restaurants, he stumbled over his words.
From behind him, a smooth feminine voice chimed in. “This young career upstart has a date with me. Reservation should be under David-23 from Nnect. Passcode is CEO23. Cocky, if you ask me.” The composed voice continued, “We would like lemon water brought to our table and honey-butter bread served warm prior to the main course selection. Thank doing.”
A warm arm wrapped under his left arm. David cringed—no one but medical professionals ever touched his brand arm. It was a personal interaction he was not used to. David looked up to see Gayle, serene and beautiful. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes simmered with mockery. She sarcastically pointed at the flower pamphlet she put in David’s right hand. The pamphlet’s purchase button was blinking, waiting for a buyer to continue the purchase, the blue, green, and
white roses full and in their prime. “You did not need to get me flowers, my date.” Her voice filled the room with its sweet, beautiful sound. His finger hit the purchase button to order the flowers to their table. David groaned regretfully at the cost; it was highway robbery for something so fragile and momentary.
And the two entered into the most extravagant dinning affair they had ever been to. Sensual female Tertain waiters and ripped Tertain bodybuilders served the food and drink. Successful people sat around the room in secluded, cushioned booths with color-matching tables. Each individual booth’s color scheme adapted to the mood of the couple sitting there. The musical atmosphere also adapted as the conversation changed. Scenes of wild animals filled the walls. A large, open stainless-steel grill snaked its way through the center of the room. The aroma of roasting meat and steaming vegetables filled the air. The savory scents made the waiting occupants keenly anticipate the arrival of their food.
“I hardly ever refuel for the sake of enjoying my energy, but this is amazing. I could get used to eating for the sake of eating,” David said to his companion as he tasted the warm buttered bread. He was hoping to break the unspoken awkwardness.
Gayle wore a stunning green formal dress that shimmered around her curves and lit up her beautiful features. She was indeed an image of radiance. Several well-known Productzens and even free people checked her out lustfully and enviously, objectifying her, as the couple followed the hostess to their place. The silk dress was probably from a promotional gifting; it looked very expensive. Her long hair was woven into a golden braid that rested on her bare left shoulder. Her appearance made David proud of his choice; the look of desire from the others filled him with a possessive and boastful spirit as he puffed his own egotistical chest out a bit farther and sat a little more confidently. He was on top of his world right now. Her tantalizing brand was proudly displayed, as it always was, and matched one of the strands of green that wove its way through her dress. David stared at the very real brand, trying to imagine it being a fake. He thought, It can’t be fake.
As the two seated themselves, David’s honeymoon mind-set ended, and reality came smashing back like the fatal hammer of destiny. A war began in the booth. The war of the sexes—yes, the war for love. It was very one-sided. David was the only one trying, and he was losing by a large margin.
Casual, meaningless small talk occupied the first course. A glass of wine came out, and the second succulent course arrived at the couple’s table. Just as David was biting into his duck appetizer, Gayle popped the question, “Can you fathom why I am angry beyond belief at you?”
The bit of thyme and salty duck David was swallowing leaped back up his throat, and he just barely caught it with his hand before it rocketed out into the dining space. “You’re angry with me?” How could she be so selfish and blind? “I saved you. I offered you a second chance at compliance and ultimately happiness.”
Gayle glared at David, and it made him feel small indeed. His arrogant pose melted away. I will never find a partner like this again, he thought. I am ruining this dinner. David’s folly boiled up inside him with shame, and a clinging defensive mentality replaced the gracious, proud display of self-righteousness. His emotions ping-ponged back and forth between lust, anger, shame, and fear of loss.
“Yes, you are a foolish, selfish man.” She toasted him with the sweet white wine, twirling it in her hand, the sweetness mocking the bitterness of the situation. To any but the two of them, this was a casual and engaging dinner conversation. But David could feel the emotion behind her words and see anger light up her eyes. She was a woman at war with injustice. He remembered vividly her emotion from the clock tower.
Reverting to a state of defensive explanation, David managed to stammer, “I—I’m helping you, Abigayle. I am a man of my word, and I said that if you did not agree with me, then I’d help. You need to know what’s good for you.” His shameful tentativeness hardened and began to grow into righteous determination: he was a patriot for a just cause. The tone of his voice shifted audibly. He reached forward and grasped her hand. “Do you know what happiness is? Do you understand the gravity of the game we play? Don’t you see that compliance is the only path to happiness?”
“Oh yes, I do.” She would not be cajoled. She would not submit under the oppressive desires of a selfish society. Soft as honey but hard as titanium, she whispered, “I grant that you are merely a perfect prodigy of a system that has a hook into the deepest level of your being. It’s just a shame that I mistook the indicators—indicators that others like me use to recognize someone who might join us. Signs—yes, signs. The signs that suggest you have a new awareness of the deeper need in your being, something that recognizes our system as a false, shallow, cheap dream. Even though that brand feeds you lies all day long, still my group believes that being truly human means something more than what meets the eye.” She waved all around them.
He needed to change the subject from her menacing tirade before she had a clock tower–like outburst that would get them locked away. He tried a new tactic, a concession. “My brand hasn’t been working properly. I hear it less and less each day. I think the new brand I got last week has something wrong with it. It’s duller. There is no longevity or edge to its passion.”
“Do not change the subject.” And he clamped his mouth shut. “I thought there was something in your demeanor that was crying out for a positive change. I approached you by mistake. I regret writing you that note.” She paused as the third dish, a succulent roast beast steaming with flavor, was delivered. David promptly plopped the dish into a simmering pot of rosemary and garlic sauce—some of the dishes were delivered from the central bar fully cooked, and the diners flavored them to their liking by dipping the meat into vats. Each guest was given a laser fork, which buzzed softly.
“Bon appétit,” the waitress said and left.
Gayle continued, “I was overly anxious to connect with others who felt some deep need crying out inside of them for something authentically human. I feel that there are not enough of us. I desire to control my will and to not allow a stupid system to decide what will make me fulfilled. I don’t want my habits to be formed into chains of iron from which there is no release.” She paused to take a bite of the roast beast. David sipped on the red wine, which smeared his lip. She said, “Something inside of me, far deeper than this human brand, is searching for my purpose.”
David cut her off between sips of wine, “That’s the single most selfish thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.” Before she could spit her meal into his face, he held up arms in protest and said, “Fine, we’ll tease your little scheme—your crazy, treacherous scheme—out to its selfish limits.” He toasted her, making them appear normal before continuing. “You want to live completely for yourself. Why, humanity would fall apart, and the future world would be a dim, gray, useless place.”
Not quite able to formulate her argument, she tried again. “Not for myself. For truth. For something bigger than a career. I just meant to say that there is some longing in me for something greater, something that cries out within me. I did not mean a disconnected, personalistic lifestyle. Happiness is found in the truth of ourselves.”
She shifted her hand, pushing his hand into the roast dish. Liquid and tender meat squished onto his hand. “You’d make an excellent roast, because you look and smell like our dinner. Would you not say, darling?” Her voice was derisive. She smiled sadly at her fitting use of symbolism.
“That is where you are wrong, my dear,” David said. “Happiness is found only in an activity that produces pleasure or is useful. Don’t fall into the trap of forgetting how ability translated to action powerfully transforms the world around us. Our choices shape our identity.” He wiped some of the meat sauce onto her hand that held the wineglass. “And dating you does give me pleasure. At least one of us will find happiness through this craziness. PPRE saw to that.”
“Happiness is something so much deeper than mere fleeting pleasure.” She
tipped her wine hand and flicked her fingers; juice stuck to David’s brow and dripped down his nose into his mouth. His lips puckered as he tasted the delectable combination of flavors.
“So, do you plan on resisting our dating agreement, or will you make the most of it?” David questioned in curiosity. “I believe you were speaking at some point about making the most of situations.” He congratulated himself on his patience during the tense conversation. He took a deep breath and felt a small adrenaline rush from the brand. He stared at her, up and down. He felt a sexual stimulation. “We are each other’s, for one hour a week. So we might as well not complain about it. I think eventually we could support each other in our mutual goal of freedom. CEO Saul himself has offered me a chance to gain many, many freedoms.”
That triggered it. “CEO Saul is a fool and a thief.” Gayle stood up defiantly. Her motion sent the roast beast flying onto David. He felt the warm gravy, yellow butter, and red grease dripping through his clothing. “Every CEO is a fool, especially that damn Saul and Sarah at Thrive. CEO Sarah is an egotistical fraud and a child killer.”
Gasps of shock and disbelief filled the now-quiet restaurant. The long, festive draperies and hanging animals seemed to switch from soothing to wild as the room became a hostile place. David heard the beeping of a help signal being sent from the hostess desk. QC would be here any moment. “Gayle, sit down now. Please sit. Don’t say that in here, ever. You will be reprocessed. I might lose my brand.” He looked around nervously. A couple three booths over kept glancing urgently at their mobile devices and talked in a low, rushed chatter. He didn’t like that.
She leaned forward over the table and said in a voice that only he could hear, “They steal humanity, all of these CEOs. They can’t own us. Reaching your goal of freedom, in the manner that they offer it to you, will never satisfy you. You are just a test rat for some corporate initiative. Wake up, David. Wake up.”
A Tale Of Doings Page 19