by Kozinn, Nat
Before the Plagues, Oasis Burger was called McDonalds. When Cabot's Plagues spread and the world food supplies dwindled, most of the McDonalds had to close. In 1987, McDonalds merged with Ultracorps, which re-launched the restaurant chain as Oasis Burger. The company spread quickly and is now the largest restaurant chain in America. It employs over a million people. Starting Monday, I will be one of them.
I consider stopping in the store and having a bite. I’ve used up most of the calories from lunch six hours ago, but they said there was a train waiting for me. I head towards the long stairwell that leads to Section 26's Slug station. I take deep breaths as I walk. The air smells different out here than it smells inside the building. There are more pollutants: carbon dioxide, methane, and hundreds of other things I can't identify. It's a little overwhelming, so I focus on my breathing and ignore my sense of smell.
When I get to the station, the small train car is indeed waiting. No one else is in the train, not even at the controls. I sit down inside on an uncomfortable seat and wait. It has been a long time since I’ve ridden the Slug. I always liked it as a kid, even with the smell. They call it the Slug because the fuel the train burns looks like a bunch of worms, or slugs. It's actually a by-product of a bacterium grown by a Different. The bacteria eat sewage, garbage, anything organic really, and leave behind the carbon-rich "Slugs." It is a better fuel source than oil or coal ever was. It burns longer and cleaner, but then there is the smell. The big problem is that the Different who produces the bacteria only grows so much.
I wait eleven minutes, but I make it seem like it's just a few seconds. Time flies when you're having fun. Or when you force your brain to recreate the experience of it.
I stop making time go by when a man in his early thirties walks onto the train. He’s wearing an ugly blue uniform. He must be the conductor, but his appearance doesn't inspire much confidence as a driver. He needs a shave and his uniform is a mess. He has a light behind his eyes though. He’s taking in everything he sees.
"You Gavin Stillman?" he knows the answer is yes, but he needs something to say.
"I am."
"Your chariot awaits, my friend. You've got the whole place to yourself. This train's heading straight to the Barracks."
He goes into the control booth and shortly thereafter, we head off towards Ultracorps employee housing, or the Barracks, as everyone calls it. It’s on the south side of the Los Angeles Metro Area. The woman in charge of housing arrangements laughed at me when I asked if I had to live in employee housing.
"Of course not," she said. "You are authorized to live wherever you choose. Of course, every landlord in the country requires Differents to buy insurance. As long as your father is some sort of prince or the CEO of Ultracorps, I'm sure you'll be able to afford the premiums and rent in addition to your monthly COL Obligations payments and your mandatory think.Net account. If your daddy isn't rich as the Pope, you'll be living in the Barracks."
My dad was a fisherman and now he's dead, so I headed for Ultracorps housing. Maybe I can afford to live outside the Barracks if I save up for forty years, considering my salary and Cost of Living Obligations.
As for the mandatory think.Net account, it doesn’t have to be mandatory. I couldn't imagine not having an account. It let me talk to my father for the last time on my fourteenth birthday. He saved for weeks to buy some think.Net time, just so we could talk. I can't remember much of what he said, but I remember how happy it made me.
Think.Net is made up of a series of over a thousand Telepaths who form a network that blankets the entire country. Using the network is easy, you just think about going on it. Then you think about contacting anyone you'd like to speak to, anyone who has authorized you to call or "knows" you. You can even call the other Metro Areas, except Houston of course. Long-range calls cost a small fortune though. There's just a handful of Telepaths powerful enough to reach that far.
But think.Net does so much more than let people talk. There are the Librarians, super intelligent Differents who are essentially living encyclopedias. The think.Net Telepaths can tap into the Librarians’ memories and share what they know with us. The Librarians form even more perfect memories than I do. Between them all, they can recall almost every book or scientific paper that's ever been written. They also provide think.Net shows for entertainment and even some Pre-Plague television shows and movies, anything that any Librarian has ever seen.
More than that, almost every store in Los Angeles does business on think.Net. They usually charge an extra fee if you pay with cash. I remember because my dad had to pay it all the time. I think the money is the main reason the government requires Differents to maintain a think.Net account. You can learn pretty much everything there is to know about a person by looking at how they spend their money.
It seems like overkill to me. It's not like it’s easy for me to hide. I look down at the tattoo they put on my right hand after my meeting with the Adjustment Counselor. It’s illegal to conceal it.
The tattoo is a big black D that takes up most of my hand. Inside the D, in tiny letters, it says, Gavin Stillman: Anthropomorphic Control: GAMMA.
Gamma is written in larger letters than the rest. It means they consider me no more dangerous than your average human, not a ringing endorsement of my abilities. Better than Zeta, though. They put it there so if the cops ever stop me, they have some idea of what they’re dealing with.
I could remove the tattoo if I wanted to. The ink is stuck in my second layer of skin, and the cells there don’t need to reproduce very often so the ink is stable. But I could have my body respond to the ink like it’s a toxic invader, pushing it out of my skin like a pimple. The problem would be that I have no way to get the tattoo back on. It’ll be useful if I ever have to flee the country, otherwise it’s just a one-way ticket to Great Basin Prison. I should think about something else.
It will be a long ride to employee housing. The Section 26 compound is ten miles west of the Metro Center, which itself is another seven miles from employee housing. In those seventeen miles we'll pass by almost twenty million people. I remember hearing that people used to complain about Los Angeles being too crowded back before the Plagues. That was when there were only three million people.
When the Plagues devastated the nation, the government struggled to provide relief. Transportation was the most difficult obstacle. Cabot's bacteria ate up the world's fuel supply, making it almost impossible to transport what little food the government could manage to get its hands on. Since it was too hard to bring the food to the people, the government decided to bring the people to the food. The entire U.S. population was ordered to relocate to the Metro Areas. Those who refused to move were left in what are called the Non-Assisted Areas. While technically still the United States, the Non-Assisted Areas are outside of the government’s control.
The Plagues killed around half of the United States population from 1980 to 1985. Still, that left about one hundred fifteen million people, divided into nine Metro Areas. Add in population growth and there are one hundred seventy million people divided into seven Metro Areas. There are about twenty million people in Los Angeles. Twenty-five million if you count people who live outside the official Metro Area border.
There must not have been anyone else getting out of Section 26 anytime soon if they're wasting the Slug on just me. The single train car is designed to hold sixty. I settle into the uncomfortable seat and make time breeze by. After what feels like two seconds later to me, but was fifteen minutes in the real world, the Conductor interrupts my space out. He’s opened the door to the control booth and stands half in, half out so he can talk and keep an eye on the track. Guess he’s bored enough to chat with the cargo.
“So what kind of work did they give you?" he says.
I hone in on his name badge and focus my eyes. His name is Ben.
“I got an offer to work for Ultracorps. I’ll be working in the research department assisting in the collection of data to further nutritional dev
elopment,” it sounds better than telling him I’ll be a lab rat for a fast food joint.
“An offer, hah!" Ben snorts. “Offer implies you had a choice. The good news is that Section 26 is letting their mitts off you, that counts for something. Even if they have you working as a lab rat—I mean nutritional developer—at least you get to sleep in a bed you own.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
"I'm just messing with you. It's not so bad. Wait till you see the Barracks. It's a palace. There's Hoovers in every apartment. They got a pool on the grounds and each building has their own Cooler. You will love them come August. I've got four people living in my one bedroom condo and our Hoover tube is on the first floor. I hurt my back carrying the garbage down last week."
"But, like you said, I'm a lab rat."
I hadn’t realized employee housing was so posh, but maybe he's still just messing with me. I focus in on his carotid artery and watch it pulse. His heart rate is elevated. Maybe he's lying, or maybe he eats too many fried foods.
"Lab rat, that doesn't sound so bad. You think my job is so glamorous? After I drop you off, I'm supposed to head out to the depot and pick up a Slug tanker. I will have worked a sixteen hour shift by the time I get home. I'll work five more of those this week, and I'm lucky. There are a dozen other guys who would kill to get my shifts. Believe me, lots of those guys would kill to be a lab rat too."
"What about COL Obligations? You don't have some huge debt placed on your head just for existing. I didn't ask to be put in Section 26. I was just born a Different."
"That's true kid, that's a crummy situation there and there ain't no two ways about it. I hate to break it to you though, but all of us are in a crummy situation. I got rent, credit card payments, preschool, think.Net accounts, and three hungry mouths counting on my paycheck. Some might call those Cost of Living Obligations too."
"I know I don’t have it so bad. I know it could be much worse. I just always hoped I'd get to be somebody special, someone who made a big difference, someone who mattered in the world."
"You and me both, kid, you and me both," Ben says dismissively.
Then he acts as though he sees something that requires his attention and heads back into the control booth. I think he’s heard enough of my whining.
I make time fly through the outskirts of the Metro Area until we get close to the LA Metro Center. Once the Metro Center comes into view, I make time move as slowly as I can.
I’ve always loved the Metro Center, and seeing it for the first time with my new eyes only makes it more beautiful. The Shimmering Tower still stands shining brilliantly over the whole Center and right next to it are the Hanging Gardens, the most amazing thing I've ever seen. So much green in one place doesn't seem possible. It’s like a miniature heaven floating in the clouds. I can't believe how the whole thing just hangs there. Even if I focus my vision as far as I can, I still can't make out the ForteSilk strands that hold the Gardens up.
ForteSilk, another moneymaker for Ultracorps, which of course, employs the Different who makes strands a thousand times stronger than steel. A strand as thin as a thread can hold up an entire building. A couple dozen of those and a bunch of Maceo Steel spires, and you can hold up a whole floating island.
As we continue through the LA Metro Area, away from the Metro Center, the neighborhoods get progressively uglier and uglier. Maceo Steel and ForteSilk give way to buildings made of B-Crete and others patched up after they were left barely standing from the Plagues.
Thankfully, the housing complex looks nothing like the surrounding neighborhood. It’s made up of several different buildings, all built by Maceo himself. I try to focus on the beauty of the crystalline structures Maceo produced and not the fact that the material is unbreakable, and therefore makes the perfect prison walls.
Ben heads out from the control booth.
"This is you. Good luck."
"Thanks, you too," I say and step off the train.
I take in the Slug station I will be seeing twice a day for my foreseeable future. I turn back to look at the train, and through the window in the control booth, I see that Ben is speaking. Out of curiosity I amplify my hearing, and I can just barely make out what he's saying.
"I was thinking, kid, there is a difference between you and me. Yeah, we both got a pile of crap to deal with. But, if I decide to say the hell with it and run off, it'd just be my wife looking for me. You run off, you're breaking the law. We both have our responsibilities, but I'm the only one who is free," Ben says as if I was standing right next to him.
As he finishes his speech, he puts the train in motion. How did he know I could hear him? A normal person wouldn't have been able to make out a word. I run as fast as I can towards the doors, but he's already closed them. The Slug pulls away down the tracks.
#
The inside of the administration building is just as incredible as the rest of the grounds. It's all lit by skylight, and the sun sparkles off still pools of water dotting the lobby, which is shaped like a hexagon with a single reception desk in the center. I feel like I've stepped into the future.
I approach the desk and glance at the receptionist’s right hand. No D. I guess some regular humans work here. She doesn't notice me approaching. Her eyes are open, but they aren't focused. She’s in the think.Net stare, lost in a world inside her head. Her lips are moving, she must be talking to someone. I clear my throat.
"Hello, my name is Gavin Stillman. I'm supposed to check in here."
Her eyes focus in on me for just a second, and she puts on a smile. Then she goes back to the think.Net stare.
"Hello Gavin, my name is Theresa. Let me be the first to welcome you to Ultracorps employee housing. We are happy to have you stay with us, and we trust your stay will be a happy one," she says without looking at me.
"Thanks."
"I've been instructed to confirm that you are capable of turning off your hearing. Can you, in fact, withstand incredibly loud noises that would damage a normal person's ears?"
"I can. Although, I can't turn off my hearing exactly. I am capable of controlling the fluid level in my Tympanic Cavity, allowing my eardrums to adapt..."
"That's a yes?" she interrupts.
"Yes."
"Then it's your lucky day. You get the Penthouse, Tower 3. Your roommate’s name is Nicholas Werden. Here's your key."
"Why all the questions about my hearing?"
"I'll let that be a surprise. Have a wonderful day."
#
Tower 3 is yet another miracle. It's over forty stories high. Each floor is elliptical and they alternate, quadrupling the number of balconies. It's amazing what can be built with unbreakable materials. Thank you very much, Maceo. There are gardens on every balcony. Things are definitely looking up.
I head inside and find the elevator, but I don't hear any movement when I hit the button. I spot a sign: "ELEVATOR HOURS: 6-9AM, 6-11PM." It's two in the afternoon. The Strong-Man Different who runs the elevator must have a day job. Strong-Men eat a lot, which means they need to earn a lot too.
The whole area sounds just about empty. I guess everyone around here is at work all day, something I have to look forward to soon. I see the sign for the stairs and walk down the hallway. There's a man mopping the floor.
"Hello," I say with a friendly smile.
The man looks up at me, and I see soulless eyes and a familiar face. He's a Walter. They used to terrify me when I was a kid. Clone of a clone of a clone of Walter Reynolds, who is another fellow Ultracorps employee. The clones can't speak and they'll do whatever they are told. They make a perfect source of free labor. They're the janitors for the entire LA Metro Area. I heard that Ultracorps wants to expand them to the other Metro Areas. I wonder if there is a limit to how many copies Walter can make.
I open the doors to the staircase and make my way up forty flights of stairs. I have my lungs absorb as much oxygen as they are capable of and speed up my heart rate so I don't get winded. I turn up my sweat product
ion to get rid of some excess body heat.
I find my apartment on the forty-first floor. It was easy to find because it’s the top of the building and the only apartment on the level. I hear sounds of life inside the apartment. Someone is listening to the radio.
"The search continues for noted Ultracorps opponent Alderman David Gabbert. Alderman Gabbert has been missing since last Thursday. Anyone with information regarding the disappearance is encouraged to contact Metro Police. This follows the disappearance of other noted Ultracorps opponent Lauren Conrad six months ago. Ms. Conrad was the leader of Idle Hands, a pro-human labor lobby which supports Alderman Gabbert…"
Is my roommate home? I would think he'd be at work during the day like everyone else. I insert the key and open the door while knocking. I figure that's the polite thing to do, even if it is my house too now.
"Hello, Nicholas?"
I enter and take a scan of the apartment. The living room is large with nice furniture. There's a dining room set and a comfortable-looking red couch. The couch is covered in dirty clothes. Seven socks, four shirts, and six pairs of underwear.
I hear a shower turn off, then the radio. My God, we have our own bathroom in the apartment. This place is getting nicer and nicer. The door to one of the bedrooms opens and Nicholas, I assume, walks out in a robe. He's tall with dirty blond hair. He looks like he is twenty-three or twenty-four. He has a small gut forming, and his body is going to keep storing fat there as he gets older. It is not going to be attractive.
"Uh, hello?" Nicholas stammers. I don't think anyone told him to expect me. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Gavin Stillman, your new roommate," I drop my bag and walk over to shake his hand.
He seems stunned by the news for a moment, and then he puts his hand out and shakes. He drops his towel. I ignore my optic nerve signals.
"My roommate? I don't believe it. They've been threatening to give me a roommate for four years. I just never thought they'd do it. Well, it's nice to meet you Gavin, I'm Nick Werden. Wait, can you hear me?" he asks while pulling up and securing his towel. He doesn't seem happy to have a roommate, but who would be?
