City 55

by William Pinecroft

  Dan had the life, delivering mysterious packages to random people at unknown times. A daily routine would kill him. Thank the heavens, the Tiki gods or whatever else, that structure hadn’t gotten its stale hands around him yet.

  Charlie hesitated by his bike as he was preparing to head home, oblivious of his friend’s departure. Charlie had just caught a glimpse of her. Her and her magic, her brilliance. Every time he saw her, it was the same. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t not look at her. He had to know what she was doing, who she was, why she struck him so.

  But who was he kidding? Like he would venture up to her. That gorgeous, lovely, sweet angel, sitting there under the tree, reading. Reading, what? He strained to see. It looked like a science book. There were pictures of atoms, chemicals, and math on the front. All jumbled up inside. He could see a picture of something on the cover of the book. What was it? A beer? Charlie, for the life of him, couldn’t put it together. A textbook with beer on it seemed like a subject he could get behind. And she was hot! Dammit, Charlie. He tried to focus. But he couldn’t.

  This unnamed angel lounged beneath the tree, engrossed in her textbook, apparently absorbed with every word on every page because it took her forever to turn the page. Either she wasn’t the quickest study or she was cramming for something. A test maybe? Could she be a college student? Well that would explain a lot, thought Charlie as he reflected on the new low he’d reached. I’ve become infatuated with a college girl, more than a decade my junior. Nah, she couldn’t be. But why was she studying? She sat, playing with a pencil in one hand, book in the other, and every now and then, biting her lower lip in thought.

  Her dirty blonde hair plopped down out of the baseball cap pulled low over her brow. Of course, it was a San Francisco Giants hat. She must be a sports fan. Charlie saw his chance. He could impress her with his trivia knowledge. Nope. He knew nothing about baseball. Her hair fell from the hat upon her shoulders, framing the portrait of her face that was captivating Charlie.

  Her shirt hung upon her shoulders, draped over the rise and fall of her chest. It was a piece of white linen that seemed to scarcely cover her, hinting at what was beneath. It wasn’t just the way she looked, even though to Charlie she appeared flawless. It was the way she carried herself. Charlie had seen her many times before and was always struck by a quality that was hard for him to isolate. Along with those amazing looks, she always appeared to be pursuing something, devoted to bettering herself. That, with the helpful addition of a body that curved in all the right places and eyes that captivated Charlie each time she was near, sparked in Charlie feelings he seldom felt. He saw in her utter beauty, a hope that the future could include something truly magnificent.

  She had to know she was driving Charlie and any man for that matter, senseless. Unfortunately for Charlie, she had no idea he existed. The story of his life. At least that vision and those legs would remain with him. They would inspire him. That love he felt, and it was love, was a beacon of hope. Whether it was true and lasting love, who knew? It didn’t matter because it was love nonetheless. At least he was lucky enough to experience that feeling, a feeling that would keep him plodding on.

  Charlie finally grabbed his bicycle, unlatched the ten-pound lock that cost more than his bike, and off he went back home. It was dinner time, and he was preparing a new recipe pulled from last night’s cooking show. Charlie’s plan was to lose himself in the kitchen.

  ****

  After agreeing to Charlie’s pleas to play chess, the next night Dan was given the privilege to choose the activities for Charlie and their other friend, Jerry. He burst into the bar; bouncing his head to the beat he was humming, snapping his fingers, and smiling the entire time.

  “Three beers,” ordered Jerry. “Pints, all IPA man. Thanks.” Jerry dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the bar for the bartender and waited for the drinks. The bartender took his time pouring the beers, pausing now and then to let the beer settle before continuing on.

  Dan slid on over through the crowded little bar and gave Charlie and Jerry a high five. “Want to grab a table?” Jerry asked.

  “Nah man, let’s hang at the bar, where the action is. Besides, if we need another beer, it’s all here,” responded Dan.

  The guys had started frequenting this place based on a tip from one of Dan’s friends. The bar hadn’t been open for too long, but with the way things went, the Business Adequacy Agency would be closing it down any day due to one flaw or another with the business application paperwork. The owners had a dry sense of humor despite it all and realized the peril of their business model in today’s world. In jest, or maybe as a way to show everyone they didn’t give a fuck, the bar was aptly christened, The Inadequate Rest Stop.

  “What a day. You guys gotta hear this,” said Jerry.

  Charlie didn’t want to but nodded anyway. Jerry needed someone to vent to. Charlie had been Jerry’s sounding board for years. His childhood dreams of working to improve the world somehow morphed into his current job. That, in itself, wasn’t surprising. If every child grew up to be what they had dreamed of, there wouldn’t be any janitors. Even so, Jerry’s current position had gradually developed into what it was now, a product of the times and the company he worked for. Jerry carried with him the guilt that he was wasting his life on something he wasn’t passionate about because it was easy.

  Dan didn’t share Charlie’s deep seeded sentiment. “No thanks,” he responded.

  Jerry continued regardless. “Today, I had to conduct employee feedback sessions. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do during those things. I’ve been doing this job for ten years. It’s the same job every day, for the past ten years. The assistants assist and the investigators investigate. That’s what we do. We collect, compile, review, analyze, and assess whether this or that is lawful. Daily. Nothing else. Either people complete their task or they don’t. There’s no imagination. There’s no free thinking or creativity anymore. All we do is look at streams and streams of cases that The Corporation decided, for one reason or another, to bring up. The forty-eight other floors all do the same thing too. So I tell people to keep analyzing. Inspirational huh?”

  Jerry worked as a high ranking attorney for The Corporation, rather than an environmental lawyer protecting the world or something similar. He often talked of his goals to fight for something worthwhile, while he and Charlie were in college. What was Jerry going to do now though? Quit? He had a wife and two kids, and his job was respectable in this society. He was in charge of interpreting laws, and The Corporation expected him to interpret based on their agenda. Certain people had to enjoy that type of power even if it was an empty power. In this case, he was the puppet of The Corporation. Nothing more. But that’s how things worked. This was what The Corporation and the government valued. Their bonehead ideas mandated that the original intent of this or that law adjust to facilitate their current whims. The Corporation paid Jerry handsomely for his work.

  Between Jerry’s ranting and his own musings, Charlie reflected on how his own life had been since college. He leaned back in his chair, pretending to remain engaged with Jerry. He scanned down the length of the bar, ending up fixated once again. There she was. The San Francisco Giants girl.

  “What’s wrong?” said Dan, looking at Charlie.

  Charlie sat on his stool stunned. Deja vu.

  Dan looked at Charlie. “What?”

  There was the girl. “The girl,” said Charlie.

  Dan shrugged.

  “You know, the girl,” yelled Charlie to Dan. There she was, sitting at the bar a few stools down, absorbed in debate with the bartender. She pointed at the chalkboard, which listed the latest brews available. She appeared to be thrilled with a few of the options, and she had diverted the bartender’s full attention from the other customers. Charlie watched as she continued her back and forth conversation, pointing up at the board every now and then. The bartender gave the impression that she was the most important person there.
Charlie figured he didn’t mind. Serving pretty girls would be Charlie’s reason for becoming a bartender in the first place. He’d be happy to explain till the sun came up. If Jerry, Dan, or Charlie had come over and asked the same question, Charlie guessed the bartender would be pouring drinks to others in no time.

  “That girl?” Jerry pointed.

  “Come on man. Stop, stop, stop,” whispered Charlie. He was looking away down at his beer now, praying to the gods at the bottom of his glass that she wouldn’t see his obnoxious friend make a fuss over her presence. With a few beers down and devoted to wedlock for twelve years, Charlie watched as Jerry swaggered on over.

  “You’re in for a treat Charlie,” said Dan.

  “No, please.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Charlie kept his eye on his buddy, the despicable lawyer in a black suit, talking to his sweet mystery woman. She seemed to be taking it well, smiling and enduring the conversation, even as his body required more and more of the sturdy chair she was sitting on to steady himself. He continued, bringing her attention to Charlie, sitting a few stools down. Her eyes flashed so suddenly, it left Charlie to wonder if those beautiful eyes had ever even moved. But they had, and she was smiling at him. She was visibly amused, while still nodding at Jerry’s onslaught of slurred catch phrases. Then she mouthed the word, “hi” with the subtle movement of her mouth. Charlie lifted out of his chair in elation, floating above to look down upon this scene.

  It was impossible for this to actually be happening. Charlie never thought such a woman would pay him any attention. She was an aberration that visited every now and then. She was Charlie’s version of witnessing a shooting star. She came and left with a blur, never staying long enough for him to appreciate the beauty before him. He could only dream of the person she was. That smile and that hello had made her real and solidified her within Charlie’s life.

  ****

  Charlie picked up a newspaper on his way out, later that night. He flipped it open as he walked back to his place. He couldn’t stop thinking about that girl with that smile. Nothing could ruin Charlie’s night now. Not even the regulation posted on the inside cover, highlighting one of the million government regulations issued in the best interests of its citizens.

  Ministerial regulation no. 20 (coded 467893746) issued by the Intelligent Thought Bank.

  1. For the purposes of patent approval and regulatory oversight, all requests must be made through the Thought Bank Patent Request Web, located under the administrative section of the new and proven creative processes section of the governmental control forum:

  (1) Only patent requests deemed worthy of the paperwork required to approve them will then be forwarded to the appropriate committee.

  (2) Patents must have logical reasoning to exist and must not be too extreme or outrageous. If the potential invention or idea is completely unorthodox, the patent requester will be required to make an appearance in front of the courts.

  (3) A particular patent requested for authorization must have precedent for its existence.

  2. Depending on the type of patent requested unusually long delays in approval may be experienced.

  (1) Each request will be accompanied with a unique tracking number.

  (2) Should a requester desire the status of a patent request, the requester must fill out a Patent Status Request, located under the administrative section of the government control network. The request will be accompanied with a unique tracking number.

  (3) Potential delays could occur.

  3. Should the acceptability or appropriateness of a patent be in question, the requester will be required to visit the local government courts office on the Monday following the notification of such inappropriateness.

  (1) This notification will be accompanied with a unique tracking number.

  4. Any questions, please call our automated hot line, with your unique tracking number or tracking numbers. Your question will be answered in due time.

  (1) The phone call will be accompanied with a unique tracking number, prior to hanging up.

  Given this 31st day of August, (2039)

  Take effect on 15th of September, (2039)

  CHAPTER 2

  THE DIGITAL SUN

  Workers bustled about back and forth, checking diagnostics, checking input, checking output, collecting output, rechecking input, compiling output, and then sending it all to the data analysts in building 10.1 on corner 11 of City 55 for more checking, rechecking, and compiling.

  Sam Fieldstone had been the recipient of all that information, ready and willing to ensure the checking, rechecking, and compiling were all completed, in accordance with his company’s specifications. He monitored all information in and out of his offices, supervising the multitude of analysts beneath him, should questions arise.

  Four corporate buildings, housed on a twenty-acre plot of land in the center of City 55, represented the transformation of values within civilization. The buildings were an immense sight, dominating the skyline for as far as the eye could see. During the fog laden Pacific coastal mornings, the buildings appeared truly daunting. They grew out of nothing, vast structures floating on the surface of the world, utilitarian machines for the city’s citizens to marvel. Each an ultramodern design, incorporating the latest technology, built to instill awe in those who approached. The surrounding environs, footnotes in the shadows, were inconsequential in comparison.

  The two main buildings, 10.1 and 10.2, were actually one, which from a god’s eye view, made a V across the ground. The tip of the V rested upon the edge of San Francisco bay, while the top of the V pointed toward downtown San Francisco, christened City 55 in accordance with the world’s latest regulations. All forty-eight levels had floor to ceiling windows, with outcroppings between the levels that separated them. The center of the V housed the atrium, home to monstrous steel pipe artwork devised exclusively for these corporate buildings. The intent wasn’t to display something beautiful, but rather to project the image that the building represented all parts of society. It was a feeble attempt, as the sculptures seemed out of place in this sparse, digital building.

  Sam marched up to the conference room where he had another group of executives to inspire. He forced himself to maintain his conviction. As he passed through the hallways of the corporate building, he read advertisements displayed throughout. The Wave of the Future, they read. Sam stopped before one hung at the intersection of four avenues within the building. It was strategically placed there for its effect on the members of this company. Sam was sure he could recite it from memory. Now we have a central server, where all forms of input are analyzed, completely revolutionizing the way our society operates. Safety will be at an all time high. Efficiency will be unmatched. Your government, in tight partnership with The Corporation, will be able to produce the products and services our world needs through the close observation and documentation of our society.

  They never mentioned surveillance. They never cited collection. The advertisements were always written in earnest, each word chosen to invoke a specifically chosen reaction.

  Sam burst through the door of the conference room and strode up to the front podium. He looked out upon the portly faces, each staring up at him from their carefully placed seats. Sam began, as if pitching a new sales model to a group of dealers.

  “Our government has completely revolutionized the way our world operates. Through the combination of all minds on earth, we have been able to develop a single method, for a lack of a better word, which is able to place the best interests of society over that of the individual. Our population, children, children’s children, and the world moreover, will be a better place because of the processes we have put in place today,” Sam said.

  Sam’s speech was met with applause from the audience. He gave a quick wave and thanked everyone for their patience and attention.

  Sam walked back to his office on the thirty-fourth floor of building 10.1 of City 55. It seemed as if they liked it. Sam di
dn’t care. Every one of those fat bastards was smiling and nodding at each other, as if the approval of one another meant anything. At least Sam’s job was secure, and he didn’t have to worry about begging on the street or worse yet, being eradicated from the population. What he wanted to do in his own perfect world was punch those idiots in the face.

  “What’s next?” Sam asked his assistant.

  “Sir, you have the Standardization Committee from the Compliance Group on Data Processing scheduled at 1500 hours. They are currently waiting in the conference room to discuss the legal issues regarding the copying and translation of certain data to additional backup media. They would like to consult with you and see if there is precedent restricting such actions. And then, if there is a precedent, how you,” she coughed before continuing, “will ensure the precedent is deemed unconstitutional under the new statute last month.”

  Sam didn’t have the first clue about what was and was not constitutional, except for the fact that if they wanted a certain something deemed unconstitutional, then it would eventually be classified unconstitutional. “I manage data analysts. I can suggest why certain procedures are in place but cannot rule on constitutionality.”

  “Of course sir,” replied his assistant. “They’re waiting on you,” she repeated as respectfully as possible.

  Sam walked into the conference room to find the seated committee, each anticipating his arrival, digital recorders ready for dictation, and checklists open to be checked.

  “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” Sam said as he entered the lavish room. The room looked as if it could control a small city. A central iron table sat before a computerized wall. Digital screens covered the walls surrounding them. Screens displayed streams of data, along with real-time analysis, captured from surveillance points strewn about the city. Others presented the raw video input from these countless sources. Executives would occasionally adjourn to the room to observe the city in it’s unrefined state, truly leaders of the people.