Jim 88

by J G Clements

  Then Helen did something really cool. Letting go of my arm, she latched onto the newsman, helping to guide him, all the time while speaking to me. “As you can see, we have the fence you suggested so no one will inadvertently wander onto the field. But as you have insisted, we try not to keep anyone waiting outside for more than thirty minutes. When there are too many applicants, we let them know that things are backed-up and they should either come back tomorrow or be prepared for a lengthy wait.”

  Catching what she was doing, I played along. The newsman’s name was Stephen and I bet he wasn’t twenty five years old. “Stephen, tell me: Are applicants being fairly treated? Are their rights being respected?” I often think of Reporters as Dobermens: Cute when they are young, not so much when they grow up.

  As expected, he had only glowing things to report about what was happening. He and Helen did some back and forth about several of the protests outside the gate. There were the usual number of the ‘end is near’ crowd and the ‘wipe out the godless communists’, now amended to include aliens, and a couple of ‘space ships are a right’ folks. Pick your particular evil plot and we could find them for you. Though it made for good film at eleven, he agreed that everyone had been more than patient and fair with them. He must have thought it was his turn to ask a question, or maybe realizing he was playing defense, but he asked me something salient.

  “Recruiter…why are you here personally? Everyone thought you were off planet? And to be honest, a lot of folks are a little confused about what your relationship is to the Crekie. For starters, do you work for them?”

  That was a softball for me. “I am a free man of Earth. I don’t work for anyone. My mission is to explain what opportunities wait in space for anyone on Earth who would seize them.” I knew I was sounding too flowery, but he was buying it.

  “Then do the Crekie work for you?” Immediately in my head, ‘Yes..tell me…do we work for you?’ She was trying to be playful, and I was trying to be serious.

  “The Crekie will do whatever I ask of them. They are trying to save the Earth as much as I am. Having them build this spaceport is proof of that.” I waved my arm, encompassing the spaceport as a validation of my statement and continued. “No one on Earth paid for this. The Crekie and the other races that have survived the Swarm built this for the people of Earth.” Then, realizing the camera was rolling. “The other sentient races of the galaxy agree that though we are all not the same, we are all equal. We are all entitled to survive, and to apply our abilities,” I hesitated, needing some words, “for our own pursuit of happiness.”

  It had the effect I wanted it to have: It took the wind out of Stephen, and even his cameraman and producer were at a loss for words. I seized the opportunity to take this conversation to where I wanted it. “Now, let’s go speak to some applicants to see what their concerns are about going into space.”

  If I played my cards right, the newsman was going to have footage of me interviewing at least one Earthman and finding out why he wants to go into space. With a quick ‘smooth talker’ tease in my head, Helen had guided us toward one of the small interview sheds. There were probably more than a hundred of them, and I was trying to figure out if Helen had chosen this particular shed for me or if it had been random. It looked random. But Helen and the Crekie don’t do random.

  Not having a clue about what the normal procedure was, I had to ask her to fill me in, so I could fill in the newsman. There is an old saying that if you want to give piano lessons, you only need to stay one lesson ahead of the student. Or whatever.

  “Each applicant gets a one-on-one interview with a guide, and they try to come to an agreement about what type of work he or she would like to do, a quick lesson on how business is conducted and what sort of benefits he or she can expect to receive. Most of them just don’t grasp how big space is, and how much opportunity exists for anyone willing to work.” I paused for effect. “And though we can train almost anyone, we still need people of good will, and of good character.” I stopped walking, forcing everyone to halt suddenly and look at me. “Anyone we identify as a true risk to others, we will not accept.” Letting that sink in, and waiting for the cameraman to get a good zoom on me during that statement, I then continued. Helen continued to give me the facts, and allowed me to embellish them the way I wanted.

  So, it was easy for me to ad-lib. “The procedure is very simple. One-on-one in an interview room, the sound is not recorded but there is a video camera. This is for the safety of everyone involved. At the end of the interview, the applicant must remain while the counselor leaves the room. If he or she is accepted, someone will come and take him and get him situated.”

  “And for applicants you reject?”

  “Fortunately, they aren’t that many. But usually two guards come to escort him back. They give him a slip of paper that lets him reapply one more time.” I glanced again at the cameraman. “Everyone gets two chances with two different counselors before they are permanently rejected.”

  Stephen asked some more questions, some of which were actually interesting and helped me further my case for why applying to leave Earth is a fair process. Before I could say anymore, Helen knocked on the door of a particular interview shed. “Recruiter, this applicant has been rejected before, and this is his last chance. We were hoping you’d be the counselor today? “Hanging me out to dry, Helen?’

  “No. We are truly interested in your insight in general, and in this case in particular. We think he’d be useful, but he may have difficulty fitting in.”

  I did my best raising-one-eyebrow look, and looked at the camera crew. “I’m sorry. But you may not come in here, alright? Helen…is there anything more we want to show these fellows today, or would they be happier getting their stories off to their boss?” That was the magic statement: They would have followed us all day, but being reminded that they had a scoop for the evening news cinched the deal. They had the first one-on-one interview with the Recruiter.

  Helen could have summoned a guard over, but instead, still latched onto the reporter’s arm, she said she’d take them back to the gate herself. And with a last ‘good luck’ in my head, she was gone. I opened the door, and with a great deal of curiosity and a touch of trepidation, I entered.

  I am not psychic, and not sure such a sense exists. But what emanated from the sole occupant of this room seemed to unsettle me. For no reason I could put my finger on, he seemed menacing. I almost reached out to Helen for support, then realized that I would never show her any sign of weaknesses. So instead, I steeled myself. My sense of him shifted. Not menacing. More like competent, or merely just an aura that that made his presence hard to ignore.

  Nodding to him, I walked around the desk to sit across from him. He didn’t offer to shake my hand and I didn’t offer to shake his. Sitting, I crossed my legs, then let my hands rest in my lap, giving the appearance of being relaxed. He seemed to wait for me to speak first…I knew he would…so I tried to gauge just how long I could be silent without ditching any chance of a cordial interview.

  “I was told your first interview didn’t go well?” I waited to see if he’d add anything…he didn’t…leaving me to carry on alone. “So, do you want to talk about why not, or do you just want to start all over?”

  He was not handsome. Not disfigured, but almost too beefy and muscular for a guy his age. I think he’d been in his share of fights, or could certainly handle himself if he was. I knew there were records right here in the folder on the desk, but I wasn’t interested in what they said. He wasn’t a murderer…or at least not a convicted murderer…otherwise he wouldn’t be here. There were a number of crimes that meant no difference to the Crekie, and to me either come to think of it, but murder and a few others would get you disqualified.

  He looked at me, then squinted a bit, “Hey…you’re that Recruiter guy. Can you get me a job? I just want off of Earth.”

  “Well, this is the right place to be if you want that. But can you give me some clue into why you
want off?”

  “I…”, he stammered. “It’s just too complicated.”

  I immediately thought he meant the reason was too complicated, then I saw what he was saying. “You mean life on Earth is too complicated?”

  “Yeah.” He clammed up, somehow convinced he had said enough. Maybe a man of few words. Or maybe just a man of few thoughts.

  “You mean it’s too hard to fit in?” He made eye contact with me. Maybe I was getting through something here. “Tell me…do you have trouble holding a job?”

  “Its not my fault. I’m always just minding my own business and then the boss or someone picks on me and then the trouble starts.” He paused for breath. “In the army, it was easy. The sergeant told us what to do and we did it. It wasn’t six different guys with six different things to do.”

  “Did you like the army?”

  “Best days of my life. I was a damn fool for ever leaving.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “Hand to hand combat trainer. You know, unarmed stuff. I was also an armorer.

  “But now when things get complicated, it ends in a fight, and the next day you get fired?”

  He laughed…sort of a snort, actually. “I usually win the fight, then lose my job. Right on the spot.”

  “Did you ever kill anyone?” I tried to keep it nonchalant but it did cross my mind that I was alone here.

  “Naw. Most dopes fight so stupid that its child’s play to stop them. You only have to decide if you want to break a bone or not.

  “What kind of work do you do now, or come to think of it, what kind of work do you like?”

  He gave me a blank look for a second. I thought his train of thought was still boarding, then I realized he was trying to summarize his work experience. “Whatever kind of work I can find. I did some security stuff…you know, body guards for celebrities? I was a pretty good limo driver, too. Far as I can tell, they don’t like my mug hanging around with them. They usually ask for someone smoother looking. I was a trucker for a couple years. I liked that a lot. Then some clown tried to hijack the load, and I wouldn’t let him. Saved the load but then the company fired me for, and I quote, ‘an unsafe act’. Never got another company job after that. Tried to buy my own rig but the tax stuff was so complicated I was afraid I’d end up in jail.

  I was beginning to see how his previous answer of things being too complicated began to make sense. I had a couple more questions. “If you had the chance to work inside, or outside all year, which would you take?”

  Not a moments hesitation. “Outside.”

  “Can you work alone? Or do you like to work in a gang?”

  “Alone. Most other guys can’t pull their own weight. I’d sooner not have to carry them.”

  I started on an ad-hoc aptitude test. Construction vs mining, farming vs livestock, that sort of thing. Slowly, a picture of him was emerging. Yeah, I’d never put him in charge of where to aim a beam weapon but there were a lot of folks I wouldn’t give that authority to. Then again, he might be exactly the right guy to man a beam weapon. “Tell me. How much do you drink?”

  “Normally, I’m a two-beer guy. Never been a big drinker. Interferes with my hobbies.”

  “What are you hobbies?”

  “Well, I like to work out twice a day unless I’m doing physical labor then I work out once a day. I hunt and fish. Mostly archery for hunting. Guns make it too easy.” I had only tried hunting once in my life, and had decided I’d need a machine gun to actually hit anything. But he thought guns were too easy. Huh. But he was warming up. “Say, is there a place where I could ice fish? It’s always too damn warm around here. You no sooner get your shed up and they want you to take it down. As if they know when the thaw is going to be.” He wound down a bit. “I’m also pretty handy with motorcycles, trucks and heavy machinery.”

  “Tell me. What would you see as your ideal employment condition? Corporate, Small Company, working for an individual, what would you like? ”

  “I’d like to work for someone. Not a company. An individual. Someplace where I have a straight-forward job to do. No conflicting instructions. Maybe get back into security. I think I’m pretty suited for that and I actually enjoyed it.”

  “What makes that fun? It sounds sort of…boring… to me?”

  He snorted. “No, it isn’t. But if you are good at security, it’ll look that way to everyone else.” Turning to look me more in the eyes, I was about to get a lecture. “Its pointless if you come across so worried or paranoid. Whoever you’re trying to guard will sense it, so they get nervous. Then, their friends get nervous. If you’re good at your job, you look relaxed and you make everyone around you relaxed, too, right? Otherwise, you’re one loud noise from a stampede.”

  I had never thought about that. But the more he talked, the more relaxed he seemed, and I was beginning to like him. If he had been trouble as some time in his life, I bet he was over it now. “Ok one last question. Can you give me your word that you would never be the first guy to hit someone? No matter how much some loud-mouth deserved it?”

  Instead of just blurting out an answer, he seemed to consider it for a moment. “Yeah. I know I used to be a hot-head. By the time you get to be my age, a lot of stuff doesn’t bother you as much as it did when you were a kid.”

  “Ever worn a spacesuit before?”

  His eyes widened. “Damn. I guess I’d have to if I lived in space, huh?”

  “Not really. There are worlds where they grow food, and they are pretty safe. But if you want to work on spacecraft or on an asteroid, you’ll need to learn.”

  I honestly wasn’t sure if I had a good read on the guy. He seemed smart, at least street-smart. But somehow I’d gotten the impression there was more to him than he let on. Maybe I would trust him with a beam weapon. But I decided it didn’t really matter to me. I was going to give him the Ok and let him be someone else’s problem. Personally, I felt that I had enough of my own. I stood up but motioned for him to stay seated. Walking around the desk, I shook his hand, then told him to stay put and a guide would come get him. I opened the door and just as I was about to leave, I turned to him one last time. “Good luck.”

  I hadn’t gotten five steps from the door when Helen waylaid me. “What did you think of him?”

  “I’m giving him the Ok. He’d fit in fine on heavy maintenance or fixing farm equipment. Or, if you need a single-ship pilot to haul stuff…he’d be the guy. Come to think of it, he’d be a very good farm hand for the right man. Someone who understood him and could keep things simple for him. The sort of guy you tell him what to do, then let him do it.”

  Helen just smiled, doing that thing she does when she wants me to figure out more. Normally, I’d try but today I was feeling tired. I had gotten a lot done and covered a lot of ground. Helen sensed this and decided to tell me what she wanted me to realize for myself.

  “Recruiter…we want him to be your bodyguard.”

  Despite the fact that folks standing outside the fence could see us, I did a double take and halted. Helen must have predicted my reaction since she stopped as fast as I did, smiling up at me. “What do I need a body guard for?”

  “We predict there will be several attempts on your life over the next year or so.” She let that sink in. “Not everyone thinks that this whole going into space thing is a good idea. And your race has several types of mental deficiencies that make folks needlessly violent.” She stood close to me, maintaining eye contact. “In space, we aren’t as worried though we think eventually someone will try it on a ship. But on Earth, we think it’s only a matter of time. And besides…he needs a job, at least for a little while.”

  I wasn’t convinced yet, so I tried to deflect the conversation. “Helen, I thought I could be your body guard. Emphasize body.” I didn’t say it in mindlink, I wanted to see her reaction to me saying it out loud.

  “You’re sweet, and you don’t realize it, but actually I’m guarding you right now. Do you know if a bullet was fired at yo
u right now it wouldn’t penetrate your clothing? Didn’t know that, right?”

  “Really? How?”

  “It’s complicated. Has to do with intersecting kinetic fields. But if you want, I can find someone with a gun and we can prove it?” She batted her eyes…trying to act all naïve. Very funny.

  “You are serious? About this bodyguard thing, aren’t you?”

  “I promise it won’t slow you down. And he might be a help to you. He would be happy being a sort of butler. You know…he wouldn’t do the laundry himself but he’ll make sure it gets dropped off and picked up. And he really is very good at self-defense. Jack would love to have him on the Oddjob when you are on board.”

  “Why does Jack want a self-defense or hand-to-hand combat instructor? We aren’t ever going to fight the Swarm with bare hands?”

  “Have you ever gone to the gym and ridden a bicycle or tread-mill.” I nodded to admit I had. “And it was boring, right?” It was. “Well, Jack knows that a lot of the crew would work out more if they had something fun to do. And believe it or not, hand to hand combat training is a great workout.”

  I still didn’t see the need for a bodyguard, but once upon a time I didn’t see the need for an annual physical. And a long time before that, I didn’t see the need for history classes. So, I did what I do best when cornered by Helen. I relented.“Ok, how do we start?”

  “He still in the room waiting for someone. Now’s your chance.”

  It was a few steps back to the shed and I let myself in. “Hey…how would you like to work directly for me? Sort of body-guard, driver, and butler?”

  He took no time at all. Springing out of his chair, he was a different man. “But I only take orders from you, right?”

  “Right. If there is anyone you’ll need to work with, I’ll personally take care of it, ok?” And just like that, I had an extra person to worry about. Helen, and him. And of course, the entire planet.