A Cup of Joe

by Anita Ensal

  “Oh.” He was quiet for a few moments, during which she looked at him politely. “Why don’t you like me?” he asked her finally.

  “I don’t know you, David,” she said kindly. “I might like you very much indeed…but I don’t know you.”

  “Everyone knows me,” he protested.

  “No,” she said gently. “Everyone knows what you are, and everyone’s seen your face at least a thousand times if not more. But none of us know you.”

  “Why not?” He felt like he wanted to run out of this strange place and go back home. But the small voice in his mind wouldn’t let him move.

  “Because we aren’t allowed to know you, David. Any more than you’re allowed to know us. The Mother Board doesn’t like her Chosen Ones to know what people are really like.”

  “You shouldn’t speak about the Mother Board that way,” David protested, shocked at her open discontent.

  She shrugged. “I told you, I’m a writer. I’m allowed to have opinions, and to even write about them. The Mother Board likes to have a few voices of dissent – it makes everyone think that there are potentially other options. People like to complain – most don’t like to do anything about what they complain of. So, I write opinions, and get to do so without being eradicated.”

  “The Mother Board does not eradicate,” he told her sternly.

  She gave him a pitying smile. “Really? Then what happened to all the people who the Programmers deemed unworthy? Where did they go?”

  “They were relocated,” he told her pompously.

  “Relocated where, David?”

  He thought about this. “To somewhere else,” he said finally.

  “Uh huh. Well, that is the party line, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “Look, you seem like a decent enough guy, and I must admit that you’re honestly more attractive in person, in a far more normal way, than your pictures would suggest, but I fail to understand why you’re in here, talking to me.”

  David didn’t have an answer. He took a sip of his drink to give himself time to come up with a reason he could articulate. The liquid was harsh and bitter, almost rancid tasting, and tasted nothing like it smelled. He grimaced in distaste without meaning to.

  She smile. “Not used to coffee?”

  “I’m having a cup of joe,” he informed her haughtily.

  “Oh, honey,” she sighed, “they sure don’t let you out much do they?”

  Chapter 2

  David stayed with Emily at the coffeehouse well past his normal excursion time. He couldn’t make himself leave.

  At thirty-five she was a few years older than him, though he didn’t think she looked it, and told her so. She seemed honestly flattered by that and he was pleased he’d mentioned it, since he hadn’t said it to impress her, merely because it was the truth.

  She’d spent some time explaining that cup of joe was a nickname for coffee, why people drank it, or tea, which he also tried and disliked only a bit less than coffee. He was used to the Nutrient, a sweet, thick liquid that was his main sustenance along with fruits and vegetables. Emily explained that it gave him all the nutrition he needed and wasn’t unhealthy for him. But she’d made the food and drink that others consumed sound fascinating, and David wanted to try a steak and potatoes soon, even though the small voice in his head mentioned that he’d be better off not saying so to the Mother Board.

  She’d explained what philosophy was, and he’d wondered aloud why anyone would ask what their reason for being was when they were told this by the Master Computer. She’d just given him a sad smile and hadn’t answered.

  Emily had shown him one of the articles she had written. He didn’t think it was all that uncomplimentary, and he’d told her so. She’d laughed and said that she was considered the opposition writer. “But the Mother Board likes it this way, and who am I to argue?” she’d added, confusing him. But he hadn’t admitted it.

  The sun was beginning to set, and it dawned on David that he was very late. “Do you come here every day?” he asked her.

  “No.” She shrugged. “Just sometimes. Why?”

  “I want to see you again.” His chest was tight when he said this, and David wondered why.

  She shook her head. “Not that I have anything against spending time with a tall, dark, and very handsome man, especially one with wavy hair and big, brown eyes, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?” He felt disappointment course through his body.

  “Do you ever visit lower-levels normally?”

  “Well,” he admitted, “not really. But I’m allowed to.”

  “True. But you don’t, and I would bet that you don’t go back and see them again, if you do visit.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said in a low voice, feeling crushed for no good reason he could come up with. “But…none of them ever talked to me.”

  “Talking to you could be deadly,” she said quietly.

  “Why?” He was shocked and he knew it was showing.

  She reached over and patted his hand. “Because of what you are, David. Because the Mother Board doesn’t want you thinking…ever.” She stood up, slipping her shoulder pack over her head. “I have to go. No matter what you might read or hear, David, I’ve honestly enjoyed spending time with you.” She gave him another smile then began to walk through the coffeehouse, towards the door.

  He stood up and followed her, ignoring the old man behind the counter who was calling to him, offering him another cup of tea.

  He got outside and saw her walking towards the Old Park. He ran to catch up to her. “Why are you running away from me?” he asked her as he got closer.

  “I’m not,” she replied, not turning around and quickening her pace. “I told you, I’m late.”

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to look at him. She almost fell and he caught her, putting both of his arms around her. Her head only came to the middle of his chest and he had an almost overwhelming urge to pull her closer into his body, to wrap his arms around her. He didn’t understand why he felt like this – it had certainly never happened before. Then again, the voice in his head mentioned, he almost never touched other people – the Mother Board didn’t like him to and he’d never questioned why.

  Emily didn’t look amused, angry or happy – she looked frightened. “David,” she hissed, “you’re going to get me killed and yourself brain-wiped.” She backed out of his arms, shaking. “I am not authorized to have a private interview with you,” she said in a very loud voice. “Good day.” She turned and walked on again.

  David was stunned, but the small voice in his mind suggested that she might be afraid for a real reason. He tried to think about what to do, but all he could come up with was following her again, so he did.

  She reached the Park and walked along the lake path until she came to a group of weeping willow trees with benches under them. She sat on one that faced the lake.

  He caught up to her and stood in front of her again. She gave an exasperated sigh. “Why are you following me? I don’t want to be eradicated, in case you didn’t guess.”

  “I won’t let them eradicate you.”

  She snorted. “You have absolutely no power with them. There is nothing you can do to stop them from killing me, and every moment you stand there only gives them more reasons to do so.”

  “I’m the Chosen One!” he shouted, insulted.

  “You’re the output, the sperm donor,” she countered, with something like contempt and pity both in her voice. “You’re beautiful to look at, and your mind has the capacity for great creativity and intelligence. But they want your mind to work very little, because if it did indeed work as intended you might begin to think, and if you began to think, you’d realize that you’re a slave, a genetic sample.”

  “What? I’m not a slave!”

  She shook her head. “We’re all slaves. And we asked to be, too. Pathetic, sniveling losers, the progeny of men and women who once conquered an entire solar syste
m. But we didn’t want to get our hands dirty anymore, so we abdicated everything to a ‘greater power’ which was supposed to make all the hard decisions for us, do all the hard work for us, make our lives a daily paradise. But with that abdication came enslavement. As a race we deserve so much better. As a people we got exactly what we asked for and, therefore, exactly what we deserve.” Her voice was bitter and sad.

  “I don’t understand,” he admitted.

  She closed her eyes. “I know.” He saw a tear slip out from under her lashes and it made his heart hurt, though he couldn’t fathom why.

  But he sat down on the bench next to her and put his arm around her. “Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It will be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

  She gave a half-laugh. “Some things are just bred into us by Mother Nature and the Mother Board can’t seem to breed them out, though lord knows she tries.” She looked up at him. He saw tears glistening in her eyes, as a few more rolled down her cheeks. He gently brushed them away, feeling how wet they were, and wondering why he was doing this.

  He could tell by the look on her face that she knew he was confused – by what she’d said and his own reactions. She gave him a tremulous smile. “Men have been telling women not to cry since the dawn of time, as well as reassuring us that they would protect us and make everything better.” She shook her head. “But men no longer run the world.”

  “But I mean it,” he protested gently. “I…I’ll protect you.”

  She sighed. “You can’t protect yourself, David, let alone me. You’re the one in the most danger, if they notice that you’re starting to act like a human being instead of a genetic sample.”

  “If we’re both in danger,” he said desperately, “then tell me what to do to keep us safe.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “You would know better than I, David. You’re the one they’ll question, the moment you return back to the Tower. They’ll ask you what we spoke about, ask you why you ran after me, why you touched me…why you put your arms around me more than once. And what will you tell them, when they ask you that?”

  He thought about this. The small voice in his mind mentioned that he’d already started his alibi earlier, before he’d even entered the coffeehouse. “I’ll tell them,” he said slowly, “that I wanted to see what the lower-level people were like. That I met you, and was insulted by what you wrote about me. You left to avoid conflict and I went after you, to try to have you interview me, so that the people would know me better and so you would stop writing uncomplimentary things.”

  She nodded. “Fine, they might buy that. But, how do you explain comforting me?”

  He wondered what she meant for a moment, then comprehended that was indeed what he’d been doing. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never done something like that before.”

  She seemed to be thinking hard. “How about this? You tell them what you just thought up, and tell them that you’d seen a couple having a fight in the coffeehouse and were imitating them when I’d refused to interview you like you wanted. So this was what you saw the man do when the woman had calmed down, something like that. Meanwhile, you give me that interview, now, here. I’ll write an article tonight and upload it as soon as I can. It’s not a good plan, but it’s all we’re going to have, and you never know, it might work. And, take your arm away now – they won’t buy that story if you sit close to me the whole time.”

  He did as she asked though he didn’t want to take his arm from around her shoulders. She shifted so that she was turned sideways on the bench, facing him, one leg bent and leaning on the bench, effectively creating space and a barrier between them. She pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of her bag and started asking him questions.

  He answered them truthfully and as he did so the small voice in his mind mentioned that she wasn’t going to get a good article out of this interview therefore. He was listening to his answers and was realizing that he knew nothing about the world, hadn’t given anything much thought in decades, and was possibly the most innocuous man alive.

  They finished in the dark – she’d had to pull a clip light out of her bag in order to keep on writing. He’d asked her why she didn’t just put on a mobile link and send her writing up directly, but she’d just given him a pitying look and hadn’t answered, instead asking him about his childhood again.

  They were done, and he asked the same question he had in the coffeehouse. “Can I see you again?”

  She seemed to consider it this time. “Tell you what,” she said finally. “If I’m still alive and you’re not brain-wiped and you still want to meet up again, write a letter and leave it at that mail drop.” She nodded her head toward a rusted stand across the lake.

  “But it would be faster to send you a link,” he protested.

  She shrugged. “If you send me a link, it had better only be about something official. If you want to see me in person again, you need to write a letter.”

  “Why?” he asked, confused.

  She gave him an enigmatic smile. “If we meet up again, maybe I’ll tell you.” She stood up. “Please don’t follow me, David. We might survive this encounter, but not if you follow me now.” He nodded and she smiled at him. “I have to give the Mother Board credit…she does know how to pick based on looks.” She gave a short laugh. “And, if this is the last human contact I have, at least it was with the handsomest man I’ve ever met.” She nodded to him, turned around, and left, walking on through the Old Park.

  He watched her until the dark swallowed her up, then he got up and went back to the Tower.

  Chapter 3

  Emily had been right. David was questioned about her immediately, and repeatedly, the moment he returned to the Tower. Every Programmer he met asked him about his day, his visit to the coffeehouse, why he’d stayed there so long, and especially about the woman he’d spent time with.

  He was extremely comfortable with his story, therefore, by the time he got up to his own quarters at the top of the Tower and the Mother Board visited him.

  She always chose to personify as an attractive woman. She was far more exotic than Emily, with a perfect figure and a perfectly formed face. She had large, almond eyes and long, flowing hair, both of which changed color at her whim or his preference. She was considered the example of the feminine ideal and David knew that Emily was nowhere near being that beautiful. But the small voice in his mind said that it preferred Emily – that her beauty radiated out of her eyes, because she was intelligent and compassionate and many other things he couldn’t name. And that, above all, Emily was human, and had seemed to like him, in a different way from anyone else he had ever known since he’d been small.

  The Mother Board was extremely appealing tonight, dressed seductively and sporting thick, silky hair the color of freshly turned earth, pulled back into an elaborate pony tail, with her eyes a bright blue. She looked like a more exotic, attractive version of Emily and the voice in his head asked why the Mother Board would have felt the need to appear so.

  She asked him about Emily, of course. He gave her his stock reply and was able to sound completely bored while doing so because he was bored with saying the same story over and over again. He wasn’t nervous about it anymore, like he had been when the first low level Security Programmer had questioned him. He was hungry and tired, and he mentioned that, petulantly.

  The Mother Board seemed pleased by all of this and the small voice in his mind said he should continue to act like a whining, bored child. He’d started to listen for that voice now, since he’d first seen Emily earlier in the day, and he did what it suggested.

  The Mother Board seemed interested by the interview. She asked about the questions and his answers. He was careful to sound somewhat uninterested, but he did take the time to point out that he only wanted the interview because Emily hadn’t wanted to do it. The Mother Board seemed most pleased by that.

  He changed the subject by asking to go visit Delight, the Mother of the Next Generation. This s
eemed to seal his approval in the Mother Board’s eyes and he was sent over to her level in the Tower immediately.

  Delight was blonde and fair, with large, light blue eyes, and a trim, feminine figure. Normally David liked looking at her. But tonight, as they were talking about how a year would be over before they knew it and they would be creating the next generation, the voice in his head mentioned that she was a child, only fifteen, and that he was double her age. She reminded him tonight of the girls behind the coffee counter who had giggled at him. They had both been more interested in the boy with them than in him, he’d known it without asking, and he wondered if this was because that boy had been their age or only a bit older.

  They had a typically nice visit, but David felt cheated because they spoke of absolutely nothing new, nothing of interest other than her age and their duties to the world. Then David returned to his quarters, for the first time not thinking about how he would one day mate with Delight, but instead thinking about Emily and wondering if she thought it was a bad thing that he was going to be joining with a girl young enough to be her daughter, and knowing without asking that she did. He was surprised he’d thought about it that way, and it dawned on him that he didn’t know if Emily had a family or not.

  The lower-level workers were allowed to choose their mates and have families, under the idea that someone had to do their work and it should not be the Future Generations. No, the Future Generations were destined from conception to higher tasks. Most would become Technicians and Operators, some Programmers and Engineers, a few Teachers. None would ever become a lower-level worker.

  He heard Emily’s voice in his head, asking him just what would become of those offspring that didn’t qualify for the main positions. He wanted to say that all would, but a strange stirring in his stomach told him that the law of averages alone would prevent that. He then told himself that they would merely find other, subsidiary positions, but he reminded himself that there were no other subsidiary positions considered appropriate for his offspring. He thought about what she’d said, about the regular people who didn’t meet the Standards being eradicated, and he felt uneasy now, wondering how many of those had been the children of the last Generation’s Chosen Ones.