by Mark Tufo
Virginia was old enough to remember life just when Corporate America was beginning to take hold. A free market system was still in place, although privately owned shops and other small businesses slowly fell to the wayside as superstores and giant corporations smothered them all, one by one. The free market system dissolved as monopolies took over. Those in power took advantage of what they could, knowing there was no stopping the monster, and soon the delineation between the monopolies and the government became close to indistinguishable.
Shortly after free trade disappeared internationally, the Big Climate Change reached critical mass. For roughly a decade, the oceans rushed in on their shores, creating all new shorelines across the globe, and hurricanes and tornadoes tore across several states at a time. While the bulk of Europe turned into swamp and marshland, most of Asia became arid and hot. Like Africa, both Americas became a mishmash of unpredictable weather patterns. The weather decimated those three continents, knocking out their communications with the rest of the world and forcing them to rebuild all of their countries from the ground-up.
In the United States, for the sake of efficiency and economy, communities were rebuilt into underground districts. Roughly the size of small cities, districts were grouped into quadroplexes that could be self-contained, should neighboring areas suffer structural or socioeconomic hardship. Which district in a quadroplex one lived in was determined by where one worked, and where one worked depended upon where one's family worked: typically, Corps begot Corps and Marts begot Marts.
Core governments still had small amounts of communication between them, but the Internet no longer existed. Even the closest of family living in different regions eventually lost touch. Further destruction ensured that communications among most districts dissolved as well, and the people slowly learned to accept their isolation.
Livestock became increasingly difficult to keep, and before long, large grazers like cattle completely disappeared. Many species of fish went extinct, and the price of pork and chicken nearly tripled. Fresh food was rare. The variety of available fruits and vegetables became limited by region, although the majority of farms now grew genetically modified crops beneath enormous Plexiglas domes.
Virginia remembered when houses sat on open lots, when people were allowed to have pets, and when a person could take a long, hot shower without receiving a hefty fine. Much had changed throughout her lifetime, and not for the better. When she was a child, life seemed to be all about getting ahead while shamelessly living beyond one's means. Most Americans consumed excessively, were spoiled by outrageous advances in technology, and left countless landfills with what should have been renewable resources. Now, life was a matter of survival. Everything was expensive. Everything had to be recycled. Waste was just an old American pipe dream.
The system was depressing, but there was not much one could do about it beyond showing up for work every day and doing one's job. What kept Virginia going was the knowledge that her children would have the opportunity, should they do well enough in school, to find themselves in ruts just a little less monotonous than hers.
By the time the lunch chimes sounded, no one in the call center was paying much attention to their calls and Robert's switchboard was flooded.
Dozens of box lunches came out, and the women in the call center moved around leisurely as they ate sandwiches and canned fruits. Virginia found peanut butter was not appetizing enough today, and she closed her lunch box and set it aside for later.
Jane moved to her desk and leaned against it, sipping cold coffee. "You okay?"
Virginia nodded, although she was feeling a little tired.
"You look kind of pale," Jane said.
Virginia smiled. "I'm fine . . . really."
Chapter 89
SHELLEY STUCK CLOSE to her small group of friends as they moved on foot from the shuttle garage to the beach. Her parents had taken her and Kurt to the beach before, but because of the expense, the weather, and the long hike out, the family had only gone a couple of times. Going to a place like the beach with her friends, where the air felt clean and there was nothing looming beyond but sand dunes and a vast, grey ocean, somehow enabled her to breathe a little easier than she usually did. The fact that she was going without her parents' knowledge made the trip both worrisome and exhilarating.
The clouds lumbered overhead, threatening. It had not rained all day, but the ground was still wet and soft from last night's deluge. Shelley realized early into the hike that the thick mud was destroying her sneakers. Everyone in the group seemed to be sharing her tough luck, and she was thankful that she had opted not to wear her dress flats. She had considered it in a brief, clouded moment of vanity, but luckily, she had come to her senses when she considered the length of the planned hike. She noticed that her friend Charlotte had not.
Charlotte had flaming red hair and a thick distribution of freckles on her pale face. Her green eyes had a recklessness to them that depicted a past about which she talked very little. She carried her short heels in one hand, moving barefoot through the cold mud. Her face showed a combination of disgust and determination as she struggled to lead the small group.
Three other teenagers, two boys and a girl, followed close behind. Shelley was not very close with any of them, although she did see them often at school. Charlotte didn't seem to like them much either, but she did like the attention they gave her. The other girl was short, with green eyes, a black bob, and painfully crooked teeth. The two boys were both tall, one of them towering over the other. Both had dark eyes and sandy blond hair.
The group moved cautiously through the sand, and still a pair of police associates riding mountain bikes from the opposing direction caught them off-guard. A loud whistle caused the group to stop where they were, and the police associates rolled to a stop beside them.
"ID cards!" one of the associates barked, and the kids scrambled to find their cards.
Shelley found her ID card and handed it to the police associate. "We're just headed to the beach."
"You know beach property is closed after sunset?" the officer asked while scanning Shelley's card in a small, hand-held computer. He glanced at the sun, which now barely hovered over the mountains.
Shelley nodded.
With his computer showing no warrants on Shelley, the police associate handed her card back to her. "Don't let me catch you out here after hours."
Shelley pocketed the ID. "You won't."
"There is a new shantytown of deviants living in the district right above us," the police associate continued. "There have been reports that they're spreading down closer to us, even roaming our beaches at night. You don't want to get mugged, do you?"
Shelley shook her head.
The officers checked the rest of the group's ID cards and then, after giving the group one last warning about the deviants and beach policies, they continued on their way.
There was a biting chill to the windy beach air, and yet everyone in the group abandoned their shoes as they approached the soft, fine sand. Shelley looked around. "I don't know if this was such a good idea," she said, noticing a new front of clouds prematurely darkening the horizon.
"We must be a little early," Charlotte said, looking unsure of what else to say. All eyes were suddenly on her. She cleared her throat, getting visibly nervous. "They'll be here."
Shelley felt herself grow increasingly nervous as the minutes passed. She had never met Charlotte's new friends, but she knew some of their reputations. They had a steady source of bootleg liquor, however, and Shelley's curiosity over the intoxicant temporarily outweighed all reason in her decision-making skills. Still, she knew she was there to break the law, and she knew the potential repercussions. She gave an impatient huff. "They're not coming. We should get out of here."
"They'll be here," Charlotte insisted.
Shelley crossed her arms. "I really think—"
She fell silent as the sound of fuel-powered motors swept in from the distance.
E
veryone watched in silence as a dust cloud from the north slowly grew to become three sand-cruisers. The loud and clumsy machines carried three young men in their late teens to early twenties swiftly across the beach. The motors were loud and smelly, putting out huge amounts of exhaust, and the propulsion systems polluted the air with the jets of sand the vehicles left in their wake. They had been outlawed after the automotive unit for Transportation-Corp was shut down, and so their use clearly defined their riders as outlaws. In patches where the sand was dry, the sand-cruisers kicked up tall clouds of dust, giving the appearance of smoke plumes from a shoreline fire.
The three young men came to a halt in front of the group and turned off their engines.
"Change of plans. We're meeting in District 89148 tonight. Hop on," one of them said. He patted the back seat of his sand-cruiser. He had multiple piercings and visible tattoos, and his hair was multiple shades of red and orange.
"Where are we going?" Shelley asked, afraid to move.
"To a party," the young man said with a chilling smile. "There'll be plenty of cigarettes and alcohol, and maybe even some food."
Charlotte sprang over to the vehicle and sat down behind the young man. The rest of the group looked among one another, not sure what to do. The girl and the taller of the boys joined Charlotte and her friends, but Shelley and the second boy remained uncertain.
"You're not going to chicken out now, are you?" Charlotte asked as the group started their engines.
"I'm cold . . . and it's getting dark," Shelley said, backing from the sand cruisers.
"Suit yourself," the young man said. Whipping up a six-foot arc of sand at Shelley, he spun the vehicle around and then took off, returning to the north. The two other drivers followed suit, and soon the three were nothing but a hum and a low haze vanishing in the distance.
Shelley and her companion stared off into the horizon until there was nothing left to see, and then they turned one another, dazed.
And what of Charlotte?
"We should start walking," Shelley said.
At her prompt, the two began their long trek back to the shuttle garage.
In what felt like a vindictive act of God, it began to rain. It came just a few drops at a time at first, but within just a few minutes, the two hiked through heavy sheets of water. The rain quickly grew cold and relentless, and visibility went to nothing.
Water began to pool all over the muddy ground, and as the two sloshed through it, their clothes grew filthy and ragged. Their bare feet became cold and raw. Still, they continued on, having no nearby shelter in which to wait out the storm. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, and lightning began to crash far off in the north.
Chapter 90
VIRGINIA MADE chicken nuggets and vegetables on Fridays. She set the table late, having expected Shelley home with her school shuttle. The girl had disappeared with her friends before, so the family did not worry about her as much as they groaned over a delayed dinner. By the time the sun set, Kurt and George both began complaining about how hungry they were, and the three sat down and ate without her. Virginia cleared the table, then sat and waited.
When eight o'clock came, she reluctantly turned out the kitchen light. She returned to her seat at the kitchen table, the glow of the wall heater turning her into a silhouette before Kurt's and George's dimly lit faces. She turned to Kurt. "Time to get ready for bed."
Kurt got up, but remained by his seat. "I don't want to go."
"Mommy's tired," she said.
"But the bathroom and the hallway are dark, and if there's a monster in my room, I wouldn't know it was there." Kurt looked over at George. "Daddy, will you sit with me while I brush my teeth?"
George got to his feet. "Sure, buddy."
The two filed out of the room, and the faint glow from the bathroom's battery-powered click-light seeped into the dark hall.
Virginia stayed close to the heater, the chill getting the best of her. It was likely twenty degrees colder outside. If Shelley didn't get home soon, she could freeze to death.
Virginia closed her eyes as the room began to spin. She took a deep breath, knowing her anxiety was getting the best of her. Shelley was a smart, resourceful young woman, and she needed the room to test her wings, as hard as it was to let her do. She felt her body go flush, and she began to shiver in a sudden cold sweat. Struggling against an onset of nausea, she got to her feet, went to her room, pulled off her shirt, and then collapsed into bed.
George and Kurt finished up in the bathroom, and then George walked Kurt to his room. He turned off the light and found his way into his bedroom. Virginia gathered the blankets over her body as another chill raced through her.
"I'm going to wait up a while longer." George said moved to give Virginia a kiss on the forehead. "You're burning up."
"I thought I felt something coming on earlier today," she said, shivering. "I heard there's a flu going around," she added, although she had heard nothing of the sort. "I'm so cold. Lie down with me for just a minute?"
George got in bed, turning his back to her. "Don't give it to me."
"My apologies in advance if I do," she said, nestling her sweaty back up against his to offset the chill.
George moved to get comfortable. The temperature under the covers was smothering, but the bedroom was so cold that George could almost see his breath. He tried to adjust the blankets to find a reasonable temperature, and Virginia tugged at them with another shiver, shifting them to favor her side. He sighed, resigning himself to the idea that, if his insomnia did not keep him awake tonight, Virginia surely would.
At least tomorrow was Saturday.
Most people who worked in the Corp Segregate, George and Virginia included, rarely worked on weekends. On Saturdays, Kurt helped himself to dry cereal and comic books, while George and Virginia slept in until around nine and Shelley stayed in bed until at least noon. The bulk of most Sundays were devoted to church functions, although George and Virginia both agreed that Faith-Corp's district sermon manager was egotistical and short-fused. Unfortunately, one could not simply stop going to church because of personal issues. Everyone went to church.
Virginia often joked that they might as well go every week to get their tithing's worth. Faith-Corp had somehow contracted them into monthly payments by direct deposit, and everyone knew better than to tangle with the church's high-paid Law-Corp managers. Faith-Corp also knew whenever George and Virginia had opted to let their family sleep in on a Sunday, bombarding them with visits by associates from the church council, stressing the importance of attendance. It was simply easier to go, even if church had become just a Corporate shell of what George and Virginia remembered it to be.
Most people in their segregate weren't old enough to remember what George and Virginia remembered, though, and among them, the majority had long ago forgotten God. There were enough enormous entities to fear and worship these days without adding Him into the mix.
Virginia rolled over with a moan as she continued to lie restlessly in bed. Sweat poured from her and heat emanated from her skin, and yet she could not will her body to stop shivering. Her back began to tense up, and she stretched and contorted in an attempt to alleviate her growing discomfort.
She struggled to reorient herself as a wave of nausea hit her. She got to her feet and hurried down the dark hall. She coughed and retched over the toilet until a thick, bitter liquid came. She sat where she was for a moment, barely able to move. When she finally did try to stand, her legs failed her before she could take a single step. She crumpled to the linoleum, her head smacking against the hard floor, and then the dark room faded into a senseless black void.
George heard the sickening thump Virginia's head made when it hit the linoleum, and he sat up. "What was that?"
"Daddy?" Kurt cried out.
George rushed into Kurt's room. "Kurt?"
Kurt hid beneath his covers. "Daddy, I heard a monster in the bathroom."
George hurried to the bathroom and activated the li
ttle light. Virginia lay unconscious on the floor. "Virginia?"
The telephone sat amidst a few other rarely used items on a shelf across in the living room. George stumbled through the darkness to find it, then brought it back into the bathroom and dialed Emergency Dispatch-Corp.
An emergency associate answered on the third ring. "This is Emergency. How may I direct your call?"
"My wife is unconscious," George cried. "I think she hit her head."
"All of our medical associates are out on other calls right now. Your estimated wait for a medic shuttle is three hours. Do you want me to put you on the list?"
"Three hours? She could be dead by then!"
"Do you or do you not want on the list?"
"Yes—but she needs help now."
"I'm sorry, sir, but three hours is the best we can do for you. If you'd like to speak to my manager, I'd be more than happy to transfer your call."
"Please do!" George yelled.
Kurt began to cry from his bedroom as light, tired music began to play into George's ear. He sat at Virginia's side, trying to wake her, ignoring Kurt's pleas for him to come back and keep him safe from his imagined monsters.
Virginia didn't move. George checked for a pulse, relieved with the reassurance that she was still alive.
The music continued through the telephone, one song running into another. A recording came on: "The next three minutes will cost ten-fifty. Press one to accept the charges. To forfeit press two, or simply hang up."
