Red Walker

by Scott Allen

  Blake’s mouth twisted sardonically. “If I did know how, don’t you think I’d be gone myself? Sorry.”

  Dana was disappointed that Blake didn’t know more about viewscreens, but he liked him just the same. He seemed confident, almost cocky. “Care to share supper?” asked Dana.

  “Sure, my food box is downstairs in the closet. You can tell me about your work.”

  Back up in the room, with two bars and a plastic water tumbler each, they ate and talked. Dana wanted to make his work sound interesting, although he knew it wasn’t. He had no information as interesting as Blake’s.

  “You mean you get to walk all over this town? You get to go in women’s homes?” asked Blake. “I knew you appliance repair types were trusted more than most guys. How did you rate that?”

  “I’m not sure. Since I was a kid, I’ve always taken the Rules very seriously, I guess. Anyway, I don’t really go very far. The furthest away from this building I’ve been since I got here is maybe three and a half kilometers,” said Dana. “And, it’s necessary for the work. There isn’t much to see, anyway. Most of the town looks like it was built a long time ago, and a lot of the buildings and streets are kind of crumbling. The only newer constructions are the houses on the outskirts, and the statues of women like Andrea Dworkin or Valerie Solanas in the town center. Probably every town has one or two of those.”

  “What about shops, stores, warehouses, restaurants, and all that?” asked Blake.

  “This area does have a couple of food distribution centers, and there’s a little café about every 8 blocks. But, of course, I’ve never been in any of them,” he said. “I just walk on past, and I can’t see what’s inside,” Dana replied.

  “Factories? Hotels?”

  Dana thought, “I’ve seen buildings with names on them looked like something might be made there, but the name didn’t say what was made. Like your workplace. I wasn’t sure what went on there, because there’s no name on it and no windows, like a lot of buildings. As far as hotels, yes, there is one that I know of near the town center, but of course I never went in.”

  “Well, that sounds a little like my part of Dallas, although I was out in the burbs. Mostly houses, but then I only got to walk the kilometer from my dorm to my work building. Had to walk the route they told me to. Never saw anything else,” said Blake.

  There was a faint sound of three quick explosions some distance away.

  Blake said, “Big explosions a long way off, or smaller ones closer. Do they have a military base here?”

  “Yeah, at least one small one about three kilometers to the east that does training. I was there not long ago. All I saw was quarters for one platoon, but there could be more I didn’t see.” Dana was proud that he knew what a platoon was.

  “Those explosions sounded like they came from the east. I’m guessing it was just training. If it keeps up, though, we’d better find shelter,” Blake looked worried.

  There were no more explosions that night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A few days later, their morning routes took them in the same direction for half a kilometer, so they walked together. There had been more and more flights of military aircraft or missiles roaring overhead, usually one or two at a time. Sometimes they broke the sound barrier and windows shook. They had heard no more explosions.

  As they entered an empty stretch of sidewalk and street, Blake raised his head and looked all around them, and then tapped Dana on the shoulder. He had his forefinger over his mike, and was pointing to it with forefinger of his other hand. Dana covered his mike.

  “If you want to hear things like I do, put this down deep in your ear,” whispered Blake. He handed Dana a tiny pink thing. It looked like four tiny balls in a tetrahedron, covered in plastic.

  Dana whispered back, “Which ear?”

  Blake whispered, “Whichever. No one will be able to see it.” So, Dana shoved it deep in his right ear with his free hand. Then they both noticed a vehicle turning the corner up ahead, and dropped their hands and looked intent on avoiding sidewalk obstacles. The vehicle had an older woman in a pastel blue uniform in it. She slowed down to avoid some crumpled pavement, looked at them briefly, and then drove on.

  They both put their fingers back over their mikes. “What is that?” whispered Dana.

  “A woman who is hard of hearing keeps that in her ear so she can hear the viewscreen. It picks up signals from any screen nearby and amplifies them. There was a pack of two of them rolled up in a screen that came in for repair down in Dallas. Drop.”

  They both dropped their hands from their necks as another vehicle came round a corner ahead. When it had disappeared, they resumed. “So,” whispered Blake, “You just have to pass a wall slowly enough, and if there’s a viewscreen on inside, you can usually pick up a minute or so of transmissions. Try it out. To turn it on, slap your hand flat against your ear. Turn off the same way. Two quick slaps to lower the volume. And keep quiet about what you hear. Gotta turn here,” and he turned at the corner. Neither of them gave a signal as they parted.

  Dana was left stunned, but still walking towards his first address of the day. In the next block, he quickly slapped his hand against his ear. Nothing happened. He slapped again, but this time cupped his hand a little so that the increase in air pressure almost hurt. Then he heard some static. He continued walking. Nothing but static. Probably, the hearing aid didn’t work.

  Then, he heard it, as he came abreast of what looked like an apartment building. A woman’s voice, rather faint, “Of course I love you. Haven’t I proven that? I give you most of my pay to spend. I bring you flowers. I give you orgasms all the time. What the hell is wrong?”

  Another woman was sobbing, “You don’t know anything about love. You don’t talk to me…” Then the sound faded out.

  Dana kept the hearing aid on when he was outside. He heard music, dramas, what sounded like children’s programs, and other entertainment. Once, he heard a woman talking and other women laughing, but he couldn’t understand what was funny. No news.

  He slapped his ear before he entered the dorm in the evening. He grabbed a couple of nutrition bars and some water and walked upstairs. Blake was sitting on his bed, with a bar in his hand. When Dana sat down facing him, Blake put his bar up in front of his neck camera, so Dana did likewise.

  Blake pointed to his ear with his forefinger and raised his eyebrows. Dana nodded and smiled. Then both took a bite out of their bars and sat back. Dana had a thought. He turned his head so his right ear faced the wall, pretended he had to scratch his ear, and then gave it a little slap. Blake gave a slow nod of his head and did the same. They sat there, eating, and listening to what the Matron was watching on her office viewscreen. It was news.

  “…have been halted at a line from Santa Barbara in California, and extending though southern New Mexico and Austin to just south of Tyler, Texas. The rebels have not gone further east than the Texas and Louisiana border. A Pentagon spokeswoman said they are confident that the rebels and their Mexican allies will be pushed back to the Mexican border next week. We take you now to the front, near Tucson, for a report from LaDina Mendez.”

  Another voice, with the sound of explosions in the distance. “I am standing on a low hill just north of Tucson, and as you can see, there is heavy fighting in the city. There is an aircraft battle going on over my head, and missiles are falling on the city. Vicious mechanical animals, armed with guns, spewing fire from their mouths, are springing out from behind buildings to try to kill our troops. Our brave girls are pushing back the enemy in house-to-house fighting, being very careful not to harm women and children. Needless to say, the enemy has no such scruples. Back to you, Ester.”

  “Be careful there, LaDina. In other news, the White House has proposed rationing fruits and vegetables due to the temporary disruption to supplies from California and Texas. Congress is considering the move now. The president could issue an executive order for rationing, but she feels that would be non-collaborative,
and has asked for the advice and consent of Congress. We are talking now with Speaker Nolly, of the House of Representatives.”

  Another woman’s voice. “We appreciate the President consulting with us in the spirit of collaboration. We have turned the matter over to the joint House and Senate committee on committees, and we expect to hear its recommendations to form a committee to consider rationing in a few days.”

  The announcer again. “Ms. Speaker, when do you expect a decision on whether to initiate rationing?”

  The Speaker’s voice again. “We have no intention of rushing a matter of this importance, as I am sure you would agree. We will inform the press as soon as a consensus is reached.”

  Then there was local weather, a long discussion of a forecast that basically amounted to partly cloudy and warm, which they could have obtained from their own wrist screens. Then sports, mentioning names they had never heard winning contests in gymnastics, modern dance, and swimming, and college teams winning in softball. Dana had never heard of these universities and didn’t know what those sports were.

  Then there was a few seconds of some important-sounding music, followed by a woman’s voice, “A special report. The joint committee on the conduct of the war is deliberating, and in the spirit of collaboration, has allowed us to record the deliberations. We take you now to the Blakely hearing room in the Capitol, where General Kallen, head of the joint chiefs, is testifying.”

  Another woman’s voice. “General, please don’t think I mean to be rude, I really don’t. But, you keep telling us the rebels and their Mexican allies are going to be pushed back, and every day they take more of our territory. Can you explain why you are having so much trouble?”

  Another voice. “We are fighting a bunch of ruthless men. They are as bad as men get, American or Mexican. They don’t play fair. Their men are no match for our soldiers, one-for-one, but they have more soldiers than us. They have more aircraft that work, and they have more artillery, missiles, and mechanical killer dogs – ones that work, anyway. Their missiles have artificial intelligence that can pick out targets in flight. They have satellites and drones watching everything we do, and we can’t watch them, because they destroy our camera drones. We don’t even have spy satellites that work anymore, and they do! I don’t think we can expect victory if they won’t play fair.”

  “But, General, you have nearly the entire Army and Air Force on the front, with almost no reserves. We have drafted most of the younger Male Control personnel and most of the heavy work teams. How many more soldiers do you need?”

  “We need double what we have of everything – soldiers, aircraft, vehicles, missiles, drones, artillery. We need triple the number of mechanics to keep the machinery running. We were simply not prepared for this war. We trusted the Mexicans. After all, their president is a woman. Half of their legislature is women. It’s not fair.”

  Another voice spoke up. “I move that we negotiate with the Mexicans to return California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas to them, which were taken from them in wars of aggression begun in 1835 and 1845. In return, we would expect a cessation of all hostilities.”

  Another voice. “Isn’t that a bit premature?”

  “Does the honorable lady from New York want to wait until they reach Albany?”

  “As the senior senator from California, I object to this! We don’t want to live in a patriarchy. We have just gotten things the way we want them!”

  “Then move east! Women and children are dying!”

  “We like it where we are!”

  Another voice. “We could draft our own men, couldn’t we?” But, that was drowned in a chorus of noes, no ways, and nevers.

  The hearing dissolved into a dozen voices all speaking emphatically at once. Dana turned his head toward Blake, who was making a face and rolling his eyes. They listened to the chaotic arguments for several minutes until they heard the sound of a gavel pounding.

  “Ladies, ladies! This is unseemly. Remember that we need consensus here. We are going to have to talk this out calmly with mutual respect. We are going to go into private session, and I hope no one will object. I will ask the press and visitors to vacate the room, please. General, your part in these hearings is concluded with our thanks.”

  There was lot of murmuring and moving of chairs. The reporter’s voice returned. “We are now exiting the hearing room, and that concludes our special report. We will have more information as it becomes available.”

  Dana and Blake looked at each other with ironic expressions. “You were right.” Said Dana.

  The Matron’s viewscreen then started playing a tear-soaked drama, and the two men faced away from each other and slapped their ears.

  Dana asked, “How’s work going?”

  Blake replied, “There’s lots of it. I think they are going to raise our work hours. Some of my repairs are just to improve the picture or the sound. I guess everyone is really into getting the news these days. Also, those viewscreens are really expensive, much cheaper to repair with my low-cost labor than to get a new one. How about you?”

  “Actually, my workload is going down,” responded Dana. “I don’t know why. I usually get more air conditioning work in the late spring, and everything else drops. But, I haven’t had as much AC work this year. And, I’ve been noticing that some houses and buildings don’t have their AC units running, even on a hot day. That’s never happened before. Have people been going on longer vacations, I wonder?”

  Blake caught his sarcastic tone and tilted his head with a little smile in silent acknowledgement. “I’m going to wash my clothes,” he said.

  Dana said, “It sounds like the laundry space is empty, and my clothes are really sweaty. I’ll join you.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning, Dana got a work assignment, AC maintenance, at an address he recognized as Marjorie’s. That was it for the day.

  When he arrived at the door, Marjorie said, “Hello, Dana. Come in, and don’t tell me that you don’t want a glass of ice water after a long walk on a hot day like this. Sit down in the kitchen.”

  Her kitchen had all of the most recent foreign-made appliances, some for which Dana had no manuals yet. He drank the ice water appreciatively. It was cool and comfortable in the house.

  “You can raise your head and look at me, Dana. I never believed that toxic male gaze nonsense, anyway. Plus, I’m long past my prime. I’m 82.”

  Dana saw a smiling woman that was, indeed, well past her prime, but with a kind face. “I’d best get to work on your air conditioner, ma’am,” said Dana. “I’ll have to turn it off to work on it, so it will get a little warmer in here.”

  “That’s fine, Dana, but when you are done, let’s sit down with each other for a minute.”

  The AC unit needed the usual cleaning, refrigerant top-up, and gasket replacements, all of which he had brought with him. He returned to the house, hot and sweaty.

  “Sit down, Dana,” said Marjorie. “I think I just might make you a nice lunch.”

  “Uh, thank you very much, but I don’t think I’m allowed to do that,” said Dana.

  Marjorie took two pieces of thick black tape from a drawer, walked behind Dana, and put the tape over his microphone and camera. The she sat down and looked Dana directly in the eyes. “Dana, number one, you are just about the same age as my younger son when I saw him last, about 30 years ago. I want to do something nice for a man that needs it, for once. Second, don’t worry about the damned Rules in my house. I have enough clout in this town that if Male Control thinks I gave you lunch, they will keep their mouths shut about it. I just have to make one video call on my wrist here, and I can get just about anybody fired. And third, there’s things you need to know about what is happening these days. I choose you to tell about it because you look like my son did, and you have that honest, naïve air about you that he always had. I can’t help him, but I can help you. “So, lunch?” Dana nodded.

  In a few minutes the kitchen was filled with the sme
ll of a frying steak. Marjorie quickly made a green salad and placed it in front of him with a glass of cold milk, then went back to the steak. He made short work of the salad. It was his first one ever, as far as he could remember. He liked it. He had not had milk for at least 9 years, and he relished the taste and texture as it went down. Then, the steak, with some sautéed carrots on the side. He was ravenous, and quickly gobbled down the steak and carrots, trying to remember to use the utensils as he had been taught as a boy. He had never had a steak, either, and the taste was marvelous. His mother had served him mostly cereal and sandwiches, occasionally a hamburger, and apples. Then, Marjorie brought a bowl of fruit. Strawberries, watermelon, cantaloupe, all juicy and sweet. Then, a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. It was more wonderful than he could have ever imagined. He was sated, even a little bloated.

  “Feeling right with the world, are we?” asked Marjorie with a smile. Dana nodded. “Well, then, let’s talk out in the living room.” That was the room with the big windows where he had replaced the chandelier bulbs.

  They sat down opposite each other on big soft leather chairs. Dana had never known luxury like this.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Dana. I don’t know if you know much about the war with Mexico? Dana played dumb and shook his head. “Well, it’s going very badly. To be frank, men make much better soldiers than women. They are steamrolling our army, even though their army is much smaller than ours, regardless of what our generals say. But, the Mexicans have been taking advantage of new technology for the past 50 years, and we haven’t. We have had this silly notion that we can be friendly to everyone and they will leave us alone to build our foolish little Utopia. Meanwhile, the Mexicans are being decisive and ruthless, and our generals just don’t know how to cope. They are almost to the border with Oklahoma, and they may not stop there.”