Teen, Inc.

by Stefan Petrucha

There were tons of books and papers all over the place, too, and little pieces of artwork scattered here and there: a hand crushing a bar code, a painting of some businessmen posing with Ku Klux Klan members, an American flag that had images of corporate logos instead of the fifty stars, and a huge list of things to boycott, from Apex Cola to Zaggut Crunch bars.

  There was even a small bust of Che Guevara. He was an Argentinean revolutionary and sort of the poster boy for the far left. He was executed by the repressive government of Bolivia, because, well, he was trying to overturn it.

  I mean, I really had to wonder where they did their shopping. Probably not Wal-Mart, huh?

  Now, you’ve got to understand, I know it’s important, but I really don’t care a lot about this stuff. Politics has never been a natural draw, not when there’s a new video game or a DVD around. Yeah, my peculiar upbringing has made me a little more aware of things, like all that glop from the 4Bs, so I sort of knew what I was looking at here. Jenny’s dad was one of those people who detested capitalism. In other words, he was what the Creep Veeps would refer to as a Communist.

  Here’s the nearest I can figure things. From what I’d read about the big-time Communists like in the old Soviet Union or Communist China, they want to create a perfect world where everybody gets what they need and does what they can, only they kill and repress a lot of people in the process. Many religious fanatics try to create perfect worlds and wind up killing and repressing a lot of people in the process, too, so I always figured they had a lot in common. Yeah, I know, corporations do that, but they don’t pretend so much that they know what’s best for all humanity the way Communists and religious fanatics do. Call them pigs or whatever, but they really do just want to make money, and if it turns out to be more profitable not to kill a lot of people, well, they won’t.

  Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying it’s better to kill a million people for a profit than it is for an idea. It’s more like I think not killing anyone could be a great and highly profitable idea.

  Anyway, when I saw all this stuff up on the walls I had a kind of knee-jerk reaction, just like I did to Jenny’s comments. It was like someone had a poster up saying my parents were the enemy.

  I didn’t say anything for a bit, I just looked around, taking it all in. Jenny was standing right next to me the whole time. She had a sort of chagrined look on her face and was waiting for my reaction.

  “Oh,” was all I could manage.

  Then this older guy came up to us wearing this ratty, rough-looking brown sweater over a T-shirt and some green army pants. He had stubble that seemed to cover all his visible skin, including his face and hands, and wore thick black glasses that matched his curly hair. His face was thin and his skin kind of hung funny on it, and he moved around quickly like a chipmunk. He rubbed his hands together as he maneuvered around boxes and papers on the floor, then, as he reached us, stuck one out to shake mine.

  “Jaiden,” he said. He smiled and nodded his head in quick little jerks. “Nice to meet you. You’re working with Jenny. I’m Eric Tate.”

  It was only then that I realized he was Jenny’s dad.

  I grabbed his hand, shook it, and said, “Hi, Eric…,” because I call most everyone at NECorp by their first name. But then I felt funny about it and quickly changed it to, “Mr. Tate.”

  Jenny looked nervously around. I could tell she was trying hard not to stare at either of us.

  “So,” I said. “Nice house.”

  He looked around like Jenny had, as though he were seeing it for the first time. “Yeah, we used to have a lot of paintings around before Jenny’s mother died. She was a little more abstract than me. I like art to say something.”

  I turned to Jenny. “I didn’t know your mother died. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and said softly, “It was a long time ago.”

  Mr. Tate rubbed his hands again. “Why don’t you kids make yourself a snack in the kitchen and get to work. I’ve got a phone call in a few minutes. I’m being interviewed by the local paper.”

  Jenny brightened. “They’re going to do an article? Finally?”

  Mr. Tate smiled. “Maybe. It’s just an interview right now.”

  “That’s great!” Jenny said. She ran over and kissed him on the cheek. You could see how proud he was and how happy Jenny was, and so I guess I got a little caught up in that and started smiling myself.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “What’s the article about?”

  He looked up at me and grinned. “How NECorp is poisoning the local water tables. I’ve finally got someone to listen.”

  “Oh,” I said, “but NECorp’s not poisoning anything. They got an award from the EPA that…”

  Jenny and her dad looked at me. He was still smiling, but she was making a face, like don’t you dare tell him who you are.

  “You know about the LiteSpring plant?” Mr. Tate asked.

  I stammered a bit, but figured he could chalk that up to him being Jenny’s dad and me being nervous. Finally I managed to say, “Yeah …I did a paper about it last year. They lowered the amount of mercury they use in their lightbulbs or something. The emissions went down 75 percent.”

  “That’s what they say, yes, but I know different. It’s fluorescent bulbs, by the way. Don’t get me wrong—overall, fluorescents are great for the environment because they use so much less energy than incandescent bulbs, but they create light by shooting electricity through argon and mercury gas. Usually the pollution is a small issue. The thing is, according to my tests, ever since this new production process began at the factory a year ago, the mercury levels in the local water have steadily risen. They know about it, and they’re trying to hide it.”

  I was about to say, You don’t know they’re trying to hide it, but I stopped myself.

  I did get that weird you’re-insulting-my-parents feeling again, but here I was, facing Jenny’s dad, and he seemed so sure of himself. He was looking at me, pleasantly, but also sizing me up.

  Jenny still had that “don’t tell” look on her face, and I didn’t want to blow it.

  So I swallowed and asked, “Uh … how do you know they’re trying to hide it?”

  He seemed surprised I’d even question the possibility. Then he took off his glasses, cleaned them with his sweater, and popped them back on, like he wanted a clearer look at me.

  Much as he’d moved around like a chipmunk earlier, now he got totally steady and serious. “NECorp has a long, consistent history of negligence. In fact over the last three months, they’ve been spending a lot of time not answering my questions.”

  “Maybe you’ve been asking the wrong people?” I offered. I could put him in touch with Nancy, after all. Or Ben, he knew everything.

  He twisted his head sideways, then looked at Jenny for a second before getting back to me. “Okay. Maybe. But ever since they started using these new proprietary mercury filters, every test I’ve done on the local water here shows increased levels of mercury. They’re poisoning the water supply. They must know it, and they’re trying to hide it. That fits my definition of evil. Doesn’t it fit yours?”

  I ignored the question.

  “So … do you do water testing, like, professionally?” I asked. I guess I must have sounded aggressive or something, because he stiffened and sounded defensive as he answered.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I’m one of the founders of JenCare, a remediation company. We clean polluted sites. Testing the water and the soil and finding a way to clean it has been my job for about twenty years.”

  “Oh,” I answered. “But…”

  By then Jenny was grabbing my shoulder and yanking me toward the stairs. “We should get started, Dad. Big bio project to work on! Big, big, big.”

  Mr. Tate nodded, but kept looking at me. “Your mother, Nancy, works for NECorp, doesn’t she?”

  “Now! Gotta go, Dad.” Jenny said again, pulling harder on me. This time, the phone rang.

  “We’ll talk again, Jaiden.”
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  “Yes, sir,” I said. For some reason, I added, “Good luck with your interview.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I intend to make as much trouble for them as I can.”

  He turned back to his study and Jenny nearly yanked me up the stairs.

  “Phew!” she said loudly, as soon as the door was closed. “Not cool, huh?”

  I shook my head. “No, not for me, not so much.” I should have followed up by saying that I still thought she was cool, but I was rattled, so instead I said, “You could’ve told me.”

  “Told you what?”

  “Well, that your dad’s a Communist.”

  I was kind of kidding, but Jenny didn’t take it that way.

  “My father is not a Communist! He’s trying to keep people from getting sick! Do you have any idea how poisonous mercury is?”

  “Uh …no…”

  She shook her head in a way that reminded me of her dad. I guess that’s natural, what with people inheriting all kinds of traits from their parents. When you’re looking at it close up like that, though, it’s sort of supernatural, too, especially if you’re seeing some angry middle-aged guy’s face in the features of the girl you’re trying to hook up with.

  I’d been hoping we’d get back to that quiet moment before the lawyers broke in, that time we almost kissed. Now, listening to her, part of me was worried we’d be swapping spit and her dad’s face would take over and he’d start screaming about how my saliva had mercury in it.

  Turned out I didn’t have to worry because after that, we didn’t talk much at all. We actually worked on the stupid bio project for the rest of the afternoon.

  We were definitely in major not-cool territory.

  10

  DOWN AND OUT SIZING

  After Jenny’s, I headed home, weirded out about what to make of Mr. Tate. He seemed to think I was just misguided, but if he found out who I was, he’d have a big cow over what I was. Not only that, but everyone at NECorp had been so proud of those new mercury filters, I couldn’t believe it was a lie, even if Bungrin had been in charge.

  But Mr. Tate’d probably point out NECorp was responsible for the faulty valve that killed my parents. Yeah, for that I hated them awhile, but after I toured the plants and the new managers explained how even with the mistake Dan Blake made it was totally unlikely that the one bad valve could slip through, I came to think of it as a fluke—like getting hit by lightning—and then NECorp got its ass kicked, right? I’m rich when I come of age.

  Which only shows that while you can’t put a price on human life, you can sure try.

  But now, the thought that NECorp might be creating more mercury pollution, and that maybe they knew about it and weren’t doing anything to stop it, was like, I don’t know, maybe finding out that your parents are murderers.

  Maybe they were evil, after all.

  Not to be selfish, but what does that say about me? I was raised by NECorp. Was their evil in my blood? Was everything I read in the 4Bs encoded in my subconscious, waiting to activate when I reached a certain age, so that I’d turn into one of them? Had that been their plan all along, to brainwash me to give the money back?

  I looked at my denim shirt cross-eyed, terrified it might morph into the smooth fabric of a business suit. I could almost feel the collar and tie materializing around my neck.

  I needed someone to talk to, so I headed for the cafeteria to find Ben. Only, no one could tell me where he was. Figuring I’d see him in the morning, I went to my room, where things got even weirder.

  There’s a pile of stuff I keep carefully disarranged: comics, homework, game hint books. They were gone, swept aside, like they were garbage. Instead, there on the fake wood of my desk, centered and straight like an invader from Mars, was a white sheet of paper. Linen bond, too, not the cheap stuff, with a full-color, raised NECorp logo. It was from upper management. The Creep Veeps. What the hell did they want?

  I clomped over, already pissed, when I glanced at my computer screen and thought I was seeing double. There, on-screen, was the same memo. They were repeating themselves before I had a chance to hear them the first time.

  The letter asked, ordered really, that I show up at a big meeting tomorrow. The CC field was a laundry list of all the Super-Creep Veeps. Bad enough, but it was the timing that really made my eyes bug out. Eleven-thirty A.M.—in the middle of my school day!

  What were they thinking?

  I speed-dialed Nancy. She didn’t even say hello.

  “It’s not a mistake. It was the only time everyone could meet.”

  “Does that give them the right to just walk in here and … and … clean my room? What about school?”

  “Jaiden, you’re the only kid on the planet who’d get upset about missing half a day. You can be late once.”

  Yeah, only I wasn’t about to announce that eleven-thirty put me past third period bio. Things may have been strained with Jenny, but I still wanted to see her.

  “Is this about Tony not taking me home from school?”

  There was a silence, one of those creepy ones that only lasts a few seconds, but seems to go on for years while the person at the other end tries to figure out what they should say. When it’s quiet too long, whatever they do say is bound to sound like a lie.

  “It’s not that,” Nancy said. “Everything isn’t just about you, Jaiden.”

  “If it’s not about me, why do I have to be there?”

  More of that silence. So thick you could cut it.

  “You’ll see tomorrow. If I were you, I’d … I’d get some rest.”

  Her voice was hollow, like a computer voice that didn’t have any inflection.

  “Nancy, what’s going on?”

  Then it got really, really weird. She hung up. And all I had left was that silence. It stuck with me for hours, while I tried to beat my high score on Walking Killer Tank and got all the way through the special edition DVD of Intergalactic Commandos.

  It was even still with me as I lay in bed, looking at the parking lot lights, counting the times the little green NECorp Security car swept the perimeter. The more I thought about it, the more my stomach tied into knots. I wasn’t even worried about Mr. Tate anymore. Dads aren’t supposed to like the guys their daughters date anyway.

  Sleep was a nonstarter. I was biding my time until morning. The cafeteria opened at six A.M., and I was dying to see Ben. He’d tell me. I could even ask him about the mercury pollution thing and I was sure he’d know about that, too. I hopped out of bed at five-thirty, took up some time with a shower, then dressed and raced through the halls.

  I made it to the cafeteria just as they were rolling up the gate. I ran up to the breakfast counter and stood there face-to-face …

  … with some guy I’d never seen before. Ever.

  He looked like an okay-enough guy. Big black moustache, hair bundled up under a net, thick arms, a little sweaty from the heat of the grill, but, a) like I said, I didn’t know who the hell he was and, b) he wasn’t Ben.

  “What can I get ya?” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask.

  “Where’s Ben?”

  His brow furrowed. I was afraid he was going to tell me he’d been working here for the last five years and had never heard of Ben. But he nodded.

  “The guy who used to work here. He’s in back.”

  By the time I said, “What do you mean, used to,” I was past the counter and heading into the kitchen.

  The place was full of steam and smelled more like cleaning fluid than food. Veggies were being chopped, meat sliced, fruit put in baskets. There must have been ten people, but no Ben.

  The door to the locker room was open, so I went in and there he was. He was pulling stuff out of a locker and stuffing it into a bag. He didn’t even see me until I said, “Ben?”

  “Jaiden,” he said, looking up.

  “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

  He laughed a little. “What’s going on is I’ve been fired. What I’m d
oing is packing.”

  Now I knew I was in the Twilight Zone. “Fired? Why?”

  “Because I opened my big stupid mouth to the wrong guy at the wrong time.”

  “About what? To who? They can’t fire you for just talking! I talk all the time.”

  He looked up. “You’re not me. I’m an employee, so yeah, they can pretty much fire me whenever they want.”

  Done packing, he stood and faced me.

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “I have a sister out west I haven’t seen in a few years. Cecilia. Says she’ll be happy to put me up until I get on my feet again. Family’s good for that.”

  “Yeah,” I said, then my voice trailed off. “Family.”

  Ben twisted his head to catch my eye. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen carefully, okay? NECorp is not your family. You got that?”

  I knew what he meant, but still … “Some of the people…”

  “No,” he said, real definite. “They may like you. They may even love you. But if they ever try to choose you over NECorp, they’ll get the boot.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  He shook his head, not like he was saying no, but like he wasn’t about to explain it to me. “And forget what I said before about you being too protected to live out in the world. I forgot that sooner or later everyone lives in the world, whether they can or not. You had the right idea when you ran away.”

  I shrugged. “Except for the part with the police.”

  “Yeah, except for the part with the police.” He headed for the door.

  “But what do I do, Ben? Run away again? I’m here for another four years.”

  “Take care of Number One. Understand? Screw them. Doesn’t matter whether you stay or go, but screw them. Just like they’d screw you.”

  I guess I understood what he was saying, but I’m damned if I could explain it. Then he walked out. And that was it. No explanation. No other advice, nothing. I didn’t even have a chance to ask him about the mercury or the meeting.

  I was alone in this stinky employee locker room, standing there like an idiot, staring at an empty locker until Mr. New Guy rapped on the wall to get my attention.