“Soya beef Chips and Peas,” he said trying to conceal his obvious dislike.
The fat greasy man responded by slapping food onto John’s tray as untidily as possible. Finishing off with the Peas being sloshed on top of the mixture at a hundred miles an hour, in an effort to deposit as much water onto the tray as possible.
“You’re a right miserable bastard,” thought John as he grinned at the man.
The volume in the dispensary increased suddenly as the next group of hairy arsed workmen came bounding up from the lifts below. This was closely followed by the gathering hordes of energetic young boys who had legged it up to the Fifty-first floor. John realised that he had better get a move on. For a change he was hoping to get a seat in the dispensary instead of eating in his room. He quickly moved on, took fruit, ice-cream filled a large Coke and made towards the seating area.
Amazingly, he found a vacant table over in the right hand corner of the open plan room. John sat down, and it was not long before the soup was finished.
“God that was good” he thought, dragging the last crust of bread round the perimeter of the bowl.
He was almost finished the main course when he was distracted by an almighty racket which had broken out in the packed dispensary lanes. The entire crowd in several of the lanes started clapping, shouting and cheering. John stood on his chair to get a better view. The sight that met his eyes he could not believe. Suddenly, up shot Aldo from down behind the counter. His eyes protruding on stalks. With the palms of his hands pressed to ears he writhed around shouting
“Stop! Stop! Please stop!”
The crowd were going completely wild. Banging trays, whistling and laughing whilst Aldo danced the painful dance. Collapsing to the floor at last, the finale was a signal for the crowd to give the loudest roar yet. It was deafening. Stepping down from his chair John lifted the large Coke, and facing in the direction of the melee, held it aloft saying,
“Cheers you bastard. It’s less than you deserve.” He drank to the toast.
Back to the remainder of the Soya beef, John was joined by another two men.
“These taken?” said one of the men pointing to three remaining chairs at John’s table.
“No,” said John gesturing for the two to sit down.
Once seated the two had immediately became involved in a private conversation. John tried to ignore their chat. Staring at the plate, his thoughts turned to food.
“The meat part of the stew was alright,” he thought, “But for fucks sake did they have to recreate the fat as well.”
John had never tasted real beef from cows but he had seen it on TV many times. Beef was practically non-existent now, in fact, he had never met anyone else who had ever tasted it either. There were only supposed to be a few herds left on the entire planet which were not affected by B.S.E. and these were protected by armed guards. Chickstrich, was now the most popular source of meat. It had been successfully developed by genetic engineers well over two hundred years earlier. At first there had been serious clashes with animal rights activists. Different people from all walks of life had objected to the manipulation of nature for gain and profit. But later, when various food supplies had become scarce, opinions had changed quite dramatically. In the end after many failed attempts there had been blind panic to find a quick solution to the problem and so “Chickstrich” was finally developed. The end product was a plump, tasty, metre high bird capable of being reared and sustained by intensive farming methods, or by scavenging on rough ground to survive. The large eggs generated also proved to be a big success. But the biggest benefit was the fact that the birds could grow to full reproductive maturity within one month of hatching. The combination of Chicken and Ostrich proved to be the ultimate food source and the answer to the feeding problems of the human race.
“See Aldo got his tonight,” said the same man again, as he nodded his head towards the counter.
“So I noticed. Not before fucking time, fat bastard,” said John breaking into a mischievous smile.
“What happened?”
“Oh, just the usual,” said the man again. “Started slapping the kid around cos he’d dropped the ladle.
When the young lad bent down to pick it up Aldo punched him on the back of the head. Then he got it good and fucking proper. The kid’s pretty bad though. A couple of the other porters have taken him to see Stewart.”
“Where’s Aldo?” said John.
“Out cold. He’s on the deck behind the counter. Saw one of the porters’ kick him in the nuts as he walked passed.”
“Christ, there’ll be a long fucking queue for that pleasure,” said the other man who had spoken for first time.
At that remark the three men exploded into raucous laughter. John had made two new friends. The more talkative of the two was Mathew 79342 or Matt as he preferred to be called. He looked around twenty eight and stood very tall at well over two metres high. His thin face was yellowish in complexion, almost jaundiced looking. His sunken dark brown eyes presented him in somewhat of a skeletal appearance. These features were emphasised by his fine jet black hair which receded at the sides making him the ideal candidate to win the Count Dracula lookalike competition. The thing that John found most intriguing however, was his low, slow delivery and the way he sometimes missed out certain key words at the beginning of his sentences. But he had a dry sense of humour and John was sure he was a good egg.
The second man was called Luke 53129. He was of average size and build but older. John put him at around thirty five. One of his main features was an eye patch, the other eye was brown. A strong dark unshaven chin and thick dark eyebrows, but totally bald on top. A bushy pony tail decorated the back of his head giving him the appearance of a Mexican bandit, crossed with a wild buccaneer. Again John liked him, not least because he poked fun at himself. Using the double entendre as the link between his name and the fact that he had only one eye. The three men sat talking in the dispensary for the rest of that evening. John had discovered that they all had a great deal in common. They exchanged stories and experiences. They also discovered that they shared similar job functions too, with all three men working on the heating and ventilation systems on the lower decks of the City. Although they had worked in different locations for some years now, they found it difficult to believe that they had never come in contact until now.
At ten o’clock the porters had started to tidy up the last of the food and were wiping their way round the tables. The three men stood up and made their way to the front exit. Matt stopped to talk to one of the porters.
“Where’s Aldo?” he inquired, as he leant over the counter jokingly.
“Oh! He left about an hour ago,” said the man with a cheeky smile.
John grabbed an apple and banana from the bottom of one of the fruit bins and held them aloft to the senior porter.
“Yeah all right, all right,” he said, flashing his eyes towards the cameras, “don’t fucking broadcast it idiot!”
John mouthed a silent “Sorry,” and the three men left.
Back in his room John looked from his window over to the other tower block. Most of the men were lying on their beds watching videos, a few were playing cards or reading, some were even staring vacantly back at him. How he hated the lack of privacy.
“Jesus it wouldn’t cost that much for fucking blinds,” he thought.
John wondered what it would be like taking his clothes off without being watched by hundreds of other people.
“I’ll wait till the lights go off,” he thought. “Some of those pervie bastards over there might enjoy it.”
Turning away he paid special attention to Orion as he recalled the strange spectre that had greeted him earlier that morning. “I must have been dreaming,” he thought. He switched on the monitor and scrolled the list of topics available. Stopping at Nature, he selected Past and then pressed play. The programme was “Life on Earth”. John liked David Attenburgh. He had watched most of his old
programmes many times. He liked the sincerity and honesty with which he spoke.
“He had really loved and cared for all those animals,” thought John. It was now ten thirty.
John relaxed and lit a cigarette, his thoughts replaying the events of the evening that had just passed. Aldo, the young boy, Matt, Luke. Further back, his thoughts drifted to his childhood and the home where he was brought up. The distant faces that he thought he would never forget, somehow eluded him now. The carers had been good enough. He had never been beaten or molested though they had never showed much love or affection. He remembered being looked after by six men. There was someone in charge though he could not recall who. Once when he had been taken seriously ill and an older man had continually wiped his brow as he had drifted in and out of consciousness. He’d been about ten at the time. The other boys he could hardly put a name to now, let alone a face. In his entire youth he could not remember mixing with other children, other than the boys in the home. He had gained a reasonable standard education. At least the company had provided that.
What he had really hated though were the “Who Are You?” lessons.
Every day at three o’clock for two hours at a time being constantly subjected to that verbal abuse. Being told over and over again that you were insignificant, that you didn’t count in any way.
“Who are you?” Their teacher would ask them.
“A bunch of nobodies, that who!
You were abandoned by your parents. The parents who did not love you, the parents who did not care for you. You were left to die, until you were saved. Saved by the goodness and kindness of the company. You belong to nobody, nobody wants you. You own nothing, you have nothing, and you are nothing. The company will look after and protect you.”
“We own nothing, we have nothing, and we are nothing. The company will look after and protect us,” we repeated to the front of the room.
“Give thanks and praise to the company. The company who provides you with the shelter, the warmth and food you require to keep you alive.”
“We give thanks and praise to the company for everything it provides to sustain us through life.”
“You are lost! The company will show you the W.A.Y.”
“You will show us who we are, show us to help guide us.”
“You will show your gratitude to the company. You will work hard in the great city. The city which is your future. The city which is your life!”
“We will work hard to build the great city. To repay our debt the company, the company which is our life, the city which is our only future.
“Who Are You? A bunch of nobodies! You were abandoned by your parents,” and so it would go on, and on.
After that came the songs! He preferred not to remember those! And after the singing the chants!
A sudden rise in volume interrupted John’s thoughts.
Thousands of Wildebeest had come to the edge of a vast flowing river, where they now desperately tried to cross. They cascaded down the steep riverbanks into the deep muddy water. It was chaos as each struggled to survive. The younger ones being crushed and drowned by the force of the following plunging herd. John thought that the scene was not dissimilar to the one that he had experienced earlier that evening, both emerging from the city and queuing at the lifts. Realising he had missed half of the programme he switched it off and closed his eyes.
“Bing-Bong!”
It was Eight a.m. The sound of an Avon Calling bell announced the fact that it was Sunday. The voice from John’s monitor said,
“Get up now and have your startfast. Remember, Sunday is the day of rest, in the week ahead you will do your best. Have a nice day.”
In an instant John was up and out the door. He was the first onto the corridor and one of the first into the dispensary twenty five floors below, although he did have the advantage of already being dressed from the night before. Behind him some of the other early birds slowly staggered in to form queues. John took some cornflakes and added milk, put three of the different coloured hot balls into a small metal bowl and poured some orange juice and coffee. He really wanted to take more, as he was still hungry after yesterday, but he had made that mistake several times in the past, and he did not want to feel ill for the rest of the day. Making his way forward to pick up his packed lunch he noticed Aldo across in the next aisle.
“He looks decidedly quiet this morning,” thought John as he watched the subdued man dispense the rations.
At the end of the queue John swiped his identification wrist bracelet under the scanner and took the same seat as he had last night. The flakes were gone in a flash.
The three coloured balls of startfast hardly looked appetising but they were tasty enough and John knew they were full of protein, carbohydrates and contained every conceivable vitamin known to man. The size of a golf ball, each of the concentrated food parcels would expand to at least four times its volume. And when consumed with liquid, would expand to a maximum of six times its original size. Years earlier, research had shown that man not only required energy and nutrition but also required to fulfil the psychological act of eating. A function which could not be satisfied by the consumption of capsules or pills alone.
The dispensary was really starting to fill up now and the decibels increased by the second. John took the packed lunch and left. On his way back up to his room John stopped in at the surgery on the next floor. The young assistant sitting behind the desk was around eighteen years of age.
“Yes?” he said abruptly without looking up.
“A young boy was taken in here last night, I eh, just wondered how he was?” asked John.
“What’s it got to do with you?” queried the assistant looking at John for the first time.
“I just wondered how he was, I wondered if I could see him?”
“Why, is he a friend of yours?” the young man said arrogantly.
“Yes, well, I know him!” John answered, trying to sound convincing.
“What’s his name and number then?” asked the young man.
“Look, so I don’t know him that well. I was just concerned that’s all.”
“Fuck off Now!” said the assistant aggressively, “Comprende eh?”
For some seconds the two men stared long and hard at each other. How John wanted to dive across the desk and smack the cheeky little cunt. The young assistant smiled confidently. He knew that his opponent would capitulate in the end. Realising he was not going to win this battle, John clenched his teeth and answered,
“Comprende.” As he turned to leave the room the young man called,
“Hey, name and number!” Turning back, he looked him straight in the eye and said, “John.”
“John what?” asked the young man again.
“Just fucking John.” he said, as he slammed the door closed with a bang.
CHAPTER
5
“Christ, I really spent a lot of money yesterday,” thought Max, as he lay in bed staring at the graduated blue sky from the upper deck of his glass pyramid.
Thick, puffy clouds floated aimlessly passed towards their unknown destination.
“So fucking what if I am loosing it, who cares, who gives a shit,” he thought.
“God they’re so, so, beautiful!” he said out loud being once again distracted by the moving hypnotic sight.
As a child he could remember lunch times during long hot summer days, lying on the grassy lawn at the back of the home watching the thick puffy clouds floating aimlessly passed. It was like he was back there now. He could almost smell the flowers and feel the warm breeze that had washed around his body. He recalled how he used to finish his lunch then quickly run out side, find a nice spot lay down and gaze towards the hypnotic sky. How he had wished he could have floated away with the clouds. Away over the high fence that had surrounded the compound of the home. For a long moment Max held on to that lonely feeling. His eyes started to fill. He shook his head from side to side as he tried to br
eak free of that powerful recurring image. On the previous day Max had thought he would have made it home before seven p.m. but it had been almost 2 a.m. in the morning before he had eventually arrived back. He had been out shopping most of the day and had bought several pairs of boots, loads of socks and underwear, six tee-shirts, four thick woolly jumpers and two top quality thermal outer suits. There had hardly been enough room to get everything into the car. He had left the Porche in an exclusive multi storey car park during most of the day and had returned on quite a few occasions to divest himself of his latest purchases. Later, he had gone for dinner at one of the top Italian restaurants, then on to a brothel for the climax of the evening.
Gazing to the sky on that Sunday morning Max was reminded of his drive back to the city on the previous evening. He had sped home along the highway and then turned off at the “Private No Entry” signs. Once on the road, the repeated sets of “Private Military Installation” signs and “No Entry by Unauthorised Personnel” signs had greeted the returning hero. Even further along, the road had opened out into the huge transport holding area. Here, trucks laden with containers waited to deposit their loads onto the unmanned internal freight carrying system. As he had approached the security gates, the usual cameras and spot lights had announced his arrival. Passing that first checkpoint had taken Max to even more threatening signs which had reflected in the head lights of his car. Once through the second barrier Max had felt relieved. He had always felt anxious when being quizzed by the guards on the gates. They were always such cynical bastards. They had obviously known who he was but every time, they still made him go through the same ritual.
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