At his station, Jericho couldn’t help but smile about what had happened on the beach that morning. Though the reaction of the man who had scanned red had shaken him up, it was a commonplace occurrence in their lives. Not everyday, or even every week, but it happened often enough that when it happened it was not considered unusual. Just unfortunate. For as long as he could remember, or even as long as his father could remember, or even his father’s father, the plague had been rampant, but seemed only to infect a few. Since forever, those that scanned positive with the plague had been immediately taken to Quarantine. He remembered with old sorrow, that his own mother had been taken there so long ago that he did not think of it everyday anymore. It was for the best. It was the rule. Isolate the plague and keep it from being able to spread was what they were taught when they were young. One day he hoped as they all did, that they would find a cure, and that was why everyone worked so hard at the factory. They worked long twelve hour days, every day, as each did their assigned tasks in finding the cure for the plague. Jericho had been at his current station for years now, and though he was not quite sure how his specific assignment would lead to any future cure, he executed his duties flawlessly, tirelessly, and endlessly. Someday they would find the cure, but until then, this was the way it had to be, he knew it. It was his assignment, and he obeyed.
His task required him to look through a tabletop mounted viewfinder and inspect high speed streams of highly magnified particles as they trailed across the lens from left to right. With a black background, most of the streaming particles were colored a dull green, or muted red, and occasionally a burnt yellow. But once in a while, a particle would glow a bright blue, similar to the mesmerizing blue glow from the plague scanners. It was these particles that his task required him to locate. Once located, he simply had to tag it, and it would be retrieved at the next station. To tag it, he only had to press a button. One of the many buttons mounted in the tabletop, which correlated to the location, direction and speed of the target particle. But it was this hand-eye coordination that made his task unique, as it required more than a constant watch of the stream, or quick reaction to having located the target particle, or even the ability to hit the correct button within the allowed time frame. It required an intuition of a sort. It required the ability to anticipate where the particle would be a microsecond later than when the button would actually be pushed.
When he had first received this assignment, it was understood that it was as a test. Everyone knew that only a few were capable of the intuitive aspect of this task. Many were assigned, and many were quickly reassigned. Few were as capable as Jericho, and few could stay at it as long as he had. Apparently for some who could master the technique required, the long hours of intense concentration began to erode their sanity. Though he had not seen it first hand, he had heard the story of an earlier operator at his station that after years of successful work had one day come unwound. Having missed a target particle once and a while was to be expected, even for a skilled operator, but this particular day the female operator had missed over five particles prior to the mid-day meal. The Guardian that always stood silently behind the line of operators was said to have moved closer and closer towards the operator that was having trouble, and had remained nearby when she had returned from the mid-day meal. Almost immediately incorrect particles were being tagged, and target particles missed, and the Guardian had approached the operator with a warning.
“Failure is not allowed.” The emotionless mechanical voice had said. Already nervous, as she sweated profusely, her hands had begun to shake. Then again, she missed a target particle. She had turned quickly to steal a glance at the close but immobile Guardian, and missed yet another target particle. In one quick motion, it was said that the Guardian drew and touched her with its control stick, caught her before she hit the ground, and slung her over its shoulder and exited the room. Moments later it had returned and escorted the new operator to the station. That operator had been Jericho.
After having heard that tale some time after he had mastered his task, he was quite nervous of the Guardian that stood behind his station. It never moved or spoke, but it always watched as it just stood there, as if it patiently waited for him to make a mistake. And truly, the first few shifts after having heard the story, he actually did miss a particle or two, and when it happened, he could feel his heart beat speed up, his respiration increase, and sweat begin to bead on his brow. But he would refocus on his task and that, in and of itself would relax him, and he would fall back into that intuitive predictive rhythm that made him so good at what he did.
The mid-day meal would be soon, and he couldn’t wait to see Gabrielle again. To see her smile, hear her laugh, and just to smell her scent. He knew that he was in love, and he relished every moment of it. Even as he watched the non-target particles stream through the lens, he could think only of Gabrielle. When the mid-day meal tone finally sounded, Jericho was beside himself with delight. He rushed from his station and soon approached the meal room, and he ran past many of his coworkers to get in line. Since his station was located near the rear of the factory, again, as usual, he had to wait. Then he saw her, near the front of the line, at least fifty people away.
“Gabrielle! Back here!” He yelled. She turned and waived.
“Jericho! What took you so long?” She asked.
“Same thing, as always!” He replied. He wished that she would come back to him, but he knew that it was strictly forbidden. Once in a line, you had to stay put. That was the rule.
“I’ll save a place for you inside!” She yelled, and he nodded his reply. She turned back towards the front of the line as it moved forward.
“So that’s your boyfriend!” Donovan said to Gabrielle, as he intentionally bumped into her while moving forward in line.
“Maybe. It’s none of your business, Donovan.” She replied as she tried to ignore him.
“Bad choice, Gabrielle. He’s nothing but trouble.” He said as her began to twirl her hair around his finger. The Guardian at the entrance to the meal room stood motionless, and appeared not to notice that he had touched her while in line.
“Stop it!” She exclaimed as she pulled her hair away from him. “I suppose you mean that he’s nothing like you?” She asked.
“Exactly!” Donovan replied, as his chest swelled with pride and he once again began to twirl her hair around his finger.
“Good, because I think you’re stupid!” Gabrielle said with a sharp smile on her face, as she snatched her hair back from him again. Donovan was physically taken back by her comment. He reached up and took a handful of her hair in his hand and yanked down.
“Ow!” Gabrielle screamed, and whirled around to face him. Her hand shot out and slapped him across the face before she even realized what had happened. Donovan reacted and pushed her hard with both hands. As she fell to the ground, she tried to balance herself, but fell onto the hard floor. When she landed, she was stunned, and then began to cry. Donovan laughed as if it was the funniest thing that he had ever seen. He was still laughing as Jericho slammed into him from behind. Together, a tangle of arms and legs, they pitched forward and knocked several other people out of line. Jericho had Donovan by the hair and began to repeatedly slam Donovan’s face onto the floor.
He never even felt the touch of the Guardian’s control stick, until it brought on a sizzling seizure of pain throughout his entire body. He fell to the ground as he writhed in pain, and even as his eyes began to roll up into his head, he could see the Guardian as it stood over him, and held the control stick. As his vision faded he did not realize that his bladder had let go, as his body still jerked uncontrollably from that slightest touch of the control stick. He did not hear Gabrielle’s screams, nor did he hear the raspy gargled moans from Donavan as he too was incapacitated by another Guardian. He did not hear the screams of the others in line as they tried desperately to not be included in the altercation, or to be picked out
by the Guardians for control. He did not know the convulsions had stopped. He did not feel the cold hard floor beneath him, as he lay in a puddle of his own urine. He did not hear, nor feel, nor dream. He did not even know that he no longer breathed.
Chapter 3
BackTrek Page 37
