24.
The elevator shook.
25.
The elevator shook.
26.
The elevator shook harder than before as it ground to an eventual halt.
Here he was, floor twenty-seven. He was only feet away from home. He was ready to fall asleep right there in the elevator, anywhere, he was so tired at this point. The door opened with that old familiar, ding. He looked down the next corridor. Those dirty floor-to-ceiling windows were what he had become accustomed to. Through the grime and dirt stains came some much-welcomed moonlight. It was the only source of light in that dark corridor. Even the interior lights were shut off throughout the building. Only the select few could enjoy the spoils of electricity after dark.
Jon walked down the hall, passed the first set of living quarters and took a right down the first hall. He stumbled for a few more paces before finally arriving at living quarter number ten, on the twenty-seventh floor. He let out one more sigh, but this was a sigh of relief.
He scanned his arm on the data receiver and the rickety door came creaking open. It was dark as he was not afforded electricity like some of the residents on his same floor. He fumbled past the entryway as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.
To the immediate right was a coat closet. It was just big enough to fit a coat or two, maybe three. Past the closet was a kitchen. It came complete with a cooling unit, a heating unit and running water. In the same room, but on the other side, was his bed and bed stand where he kept any reading material he could get his hands on. The only exquisite aspect of his living quarter was the built-in helevision screen. There he would receive his morning and evening broadcasts. Helevision was a projection or a hologram of sorts. It would put the on-air personalities and their surroundings right into the comfort of his own living room. He was afforded the pleasure of getting to watch previously recorded media, such as plays, sporting events or a few other pre-recorded programs – but that was a rarity. The only thing he could watch at his leisure was the daily news broadcast. It was something he chose not to watch, even in his upmost moments of boredom.
The only room disconnected from the rest of the unit was the bathroom. It came standard with running water, a sink, a toilet and a cramped stand-in shower. It wasn’t much but Jon was glad to be in the comfort of his own privacy and not in the clutter of the Group Housing Project.
He walked up to the wall farthest from the entryway where the one and only window was located. He slowly adjusted the tint on his window. There was a little knob that allowed him to darken his window to prevent onlookers, or he could lighten it to allow himself to see out into the city.
As he brightened the tint, he saw that same familiar poster that he had become numb to. Tonight, it felt so vivid and alive. It was a giant poster that was draped over the adjacent building. It was even covering the windows of some peoples living quarters. Jon wasn’t sure which was worse, living across from it, or living behind it. It was similar to the flags that lined the streets. It had the same party red as a background. At the front of the image was an Enforcement officer, and lined up behind him were factory workers, party members and ordinary citizens. At the top, in those bold, white letters it read, “Our Sacred Bond,” and at the bottom it read, “Is Your Sacred Duty.”
Jon never really understood what it was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was to give some sort of feeling of unity or greater purpose. It only ever made Jon feel more alone and with less purpose. Instead of a message of inspiration and some perverse notion of hope, it was a constant reminder that somebody else was in control of his future. Every day he would awake to it, and every night it was there, waiting for him upon his return.
He looked down to the floor where there were no party images, and no reminder of his current situation. Then he looked to the left to his bed. He just sat and stared before giving in to his body’s plea for rest.
He disregarded that dirty brown blanket that he had learned to hate so much and rather fell on top of it. His face smashed into the thin pillow. The moonlight shined through that single living quarters window. The poster across the way could very faintly be heard flapping in the breeze. It was the last reminder of where he was before he surrendered for the remainder of the early morning. Before his brain succumbed to his body’s demand, he thought, heaven help whoever lives behind that hideous poster.
3
ENOUGH WAS NEVER ENOUGH
THE SUN BROKE THROUGH THE HALF-TURNED TINT ON THE WINDOW. The giant poster across the way was still flapping in the breeze, maybe even louder than the night before. There was the usual morning stir. Feet were stomping through the hall outside the front door as they made their way to the elevator and the lobby below. The usual morning hustle began to make itself known as that loud transit shuttle vacuumed its way down the street below. All those Grade 1 vehicles were revving their engines as they prepared to navigate the depths of the labyrinth on their way to their employment location. On top of all the noise – and the morning smell – came one welcomed sound. Birds were singing from their perches around the streets. If there was any actual hope in this city, it was with the morning song of those dirty city birds.
Jon’s eyes reluctantly opened as he lay facing the wall. It was the usual morning routine, but seemingly amplified given the prior night’s events. He was not ready to wake up. He never was. There just never seemed to ever be enough sleep in the hours of the night. His body, always tired, was always begging for just one more hour.
The only promising aspect of his day was that he got to work the third morning shift, which meant he had until eight o’clock a.m. to get sleep. He had to be to his employment location by nine. Most people were stuck in the first and second morning-shift work hours, 5am and 7am, so there was something to be grateful for.
There was little to no chance of his getting to sleep-in until the last minute. Any moment now his helevision would turn itself on and the mandatory state morning broadcast would begin. There would be that same brunette girl, smiling and so eager to start the day. She would recite the usual party rubbish with the corners of her lips going ear-to-ear. Maybe she would be kind enough to throw in some local information updates, but why bother? The citizens were not privy to most of the information anyway. If the party deemed it unnecessary for the populace to know, then the information would merely deteriorate into rumors and eventually myth. For the most part, the only information which was reported would be weather, natural disasters, large events taking place in the city, or any updated party information.
Jon rolled to his side to face the helevision. He waited in annoyance at the prospect that any moment his helevision would be triggered and turned on remotely. He didn’t know if it was sick or not, but he hoped for some type of disaster that morning. Maybe an earthquake, maybe a flood, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted anything to jar his usual daily routine and maybe introduce a little action into the world he knew. Even a transit shuttle derailing from the grid and crashing through the elevator lobby would be welcomed news, but highly unlikely to happen.
He sat himself up and rested his arms on his legs and his head in his hands. He just stared at the helevision waiting, waiting for the thing to turn on, for that hologram to shoot out into his home, waiting for that smile to grin from corner to corner, waiting for his daily bread courtesy of the state.
Strange.
The broadcast was now late. The morning broadcast was never late. No broadcast had ever been late for that matter. It was five past the hour and there was nothing on the helevision, but Jon didn’t mind. Not even in the slightest. Instead he took this opportunity to walk over to the cooling unit, remove a couple slices of bread and throw them into the heating unit. If he was not going to be subjected to the morning ritual, then at least he would get some bread into his belly.
Jon had to be careful with how he ate his food. He had to ration it and use proper portion sizes when eating. Each citizen was given one loaf of bread, two quarts of milk, two quarts of oran
ge juice, one stick of butter, two pounds of potatoes, five cans of beans, even a stick of chocolate for the week, and one small jar of honey for the month. Every once-in-a-while they would be tossed some handouts like extra bread and butter. It was seldom when they would receive rare goods such as berry juice, cheese, cookies or even meat. Those were goods that were reserved for party members and goods that the populace rarely got to enjoy. If you made friends with the right people, you could sneak a little extra food from the citizens employed by the food distribution center. They weren’t shy about smuggling people some of the less scrutinized and counted foods such as bread and butter, but meat was a true rarity. It had been some time since Jon had tasted meat and felt just how filling it could be. No matter, he was never one with a big appetite and was content with his butter, bread, milk and honey.
After a few minutes, his bread was nicely charred and the butter was perfectly melted. He removed the bread from the heating unit and placed it on a dish in front of him. He removed the milk from the refrigeration unit and poured himself a small glass.
It was now nearly ten minutes passed the hour. Jon was hesitant to leave the room and to ready himself for work. Presence was mandatory and strictly enforced, regardless of any external factors such as poor health or illness. Each helevision came with a built-in data retriever. During every broadcast, it would scan the room, looking for the appropriate citizen of the assigned living quarter. It also took audio samples of the room and detected any unwarranted noise. All citizens were to be at strict attention during the broadcast. They were to recite any and all lines that they were told to. Failure to comply resulted in a prompt visit from Enforcement. Which would often end with a warning, but every once in a while, citizens would be sent back to the Group Housing Project as a reminder to any other would-be law breaker that the party is in charge and that failure to comply did have its ramifications.
The clock struck ten past the hour and Jon stared curiously at his hologram set. In all his years as an adult, the broadcast had never been delayed. Even during violent storms or other earthly disruptions, they were always prompt and precise with every broadcast. Something was amiss.
Before Jon’s thoughts could wonder any further, the hologram made the familiar “bloop” noise as it turned on. Much to his surprise, the brunette with her giant smile was not in front of the camera, or in Jon’s living room. She had been there ever since he reached the age of an adult. There had only been two broadcasters that he could remember. As a child, there was the older lady with that grey hair perm. Then there was the brunette, as far as he could recall. The party always put women on camera. It seemed that the soft spoken, loving voice of a women instead of the sometimes deep, authoritarian nature of a man’s voice, was a better way to extend their harsh party platform
On this morning, however, on the helevision was a blonde girl. She was younger than the other two broadcasters had been. She was even younger than Jon. She looked panicked and visibly nervous as the broadcast began. She almost tripped on her words, but she was slow and careful to make sure she didn’t butcher her first time on a party broadcast.
Something odd was happening. The broadcast was late, and the broadcaster was a different person. This told Jon that something dark and more than likely sinister had happened. Either the brunette committed a grave error and is on her way back to group housing and a minimum job, or she committed an ultimate error and is on her way somewhere else. Maybe she was on her way to the adjustment facility. Maybe she was on her way to the work force participation camp. Maybe she was just too sick to stand. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew something was missing. Things were not in their normal place, and this ruling party went to great lengths to save face and keep things in their normal place.
“Good morning citizens of Pinnacle City,” the blonde began to nervously speak with an unsure smile. “I’m here today, on behalf of the Capital, to wish you a prosperous day full of progress and production.”
It was the same heartless rhetoric that had been read to them by the last two broadcasters. She went on.
“My predecessor has been promoted and I am here, eagerly and graciously to take her place.”
Not only did they never give their names, this girl was visibly lying. She was doing her best to keep her face straight, but Jon could see the plea in her face. The brunette was never promoted.
“If you would all kindly stand and take your place in front of your audio processors, we will begin with the party creed.”
Jon was slow to comply. This was the moment that felt heavier and heavier with each passing day. There was nothing easy about pledging allegiance to a faceless overlord, but he knew the rules to the game, and had no choice but to play along.
“The future is distant. The past is past. Here in the present, we will outlast,” Jon recited the bizarre oath, or creed or whatever it was meant to be, just loud enough for the audio processors to transmit the confirmation of his presence and compliance.
“Thank you all, you may take a seat as I finish your morning information update.”
Jon remained standing in front of the helevision with his arms crossed. He was very curious about this new girl and what had happened to the brunette. He was looking for any tells or giveaways in the blonde girl’s eyes.
“We have a lovely fall afternoon in store for us today. It should be clear skies throughout the day and for most of the coming week. For all you long distance commuters, prepare for a few headaches as 9th, 3rd, H and A Street are prepped to be re-routed.”
Great. Not only were they going to stir up the labyrinth, they were going to change the two through streets that lead to Jon’s living quarters. It was as if the orders came down from Greenwald himself. Just to give Jon a difficult time.
“This latest project will help alleviate some of the congestion in the stated areas.”
Lies.
“I have some inspiring news to give you today, citizens of Pinnacle City. The Premiere of the Capital himself, is going to grace us with his presence.”
Jon felt a cold chill crawl up his spine.
“He is scheduled to make an appearance in the coming weeks, or possibly days. A specific date has yet to be announced.”
This was not inspiring, but it was certainly news. Jon’s instincts were proving to be correct. There was something stirring on the other side of the helevision set. Why would the Premiere come here? In all of Jon’s life he never saw the Premiere personally come to Pinnacle City (at least it was never announced like this). There was a hint of uneasiness in the air, and he knew it. The only question was, did anybody else feel it too?
“Please be sure to be mindful of all statutes, codes and laws. Have a productive day, and be well. Thank you, citizens of Pinnacle City.”
She ended with that same unsure smile that she began with. The blonde was replaced with images of the Capital while some soothing classical music played in the background. Strangely, of all things, it wasn’t that bad.
Jon enjoyed the soothing calm that the piano offered. He finished his buttered toast and glass of milk before preparing for his day.
He came out of the bathroom in his standard employment attire; the same blue, button up shirt and khaki pants he wore the day before. They were clean enough for another day’s use. That and he had neglected to get his clothes washed, so he was left with little choice.
Today he had to leave early. His car had been confiscated, which meant he had to take public transit. Something he hadn’t had to do for a while. Something he was not looking forward to. He worked hard to afford the privilege to operate that vehicle. He worked even harder getting that convertible out of the repurposing facility. Unfortunately, it caught the attention of the wrong person. His speeding didn’t help either.
The public transit system was really a glorified bus route. It did however have its perks. It operated on a tier-2 system. Which meant it was capable of operating above the regular flow of traffic – above the grid system. Which also meant it wa
s not subject to the same traffic stops as all the tier-1 operators were. But you were still in the confines and awkward atmosphere of the public transit system.
Sure, it probably got you to where you needed to go a little faster than by teir-1 transit, but there were a lot of folks, very similar to the fellow that Jon met in the back of the Enforcement vehicle, riding the transit line.
Jon grabbed his long coat and headed out the rickety front door. He went back down the hall that even seemed dim in the bright of day. He came down the hall that led to the corridor. The sun tried to break through the floor to ceiling windows, but it seemed to struggle through all the dirt and grime that had built up. He scanned his arm across the data receiver and began his wait for the elevator to find his floor.
To start his day off right, something just had to go wrong. The soft “ding” to alert anybody waiting that the elevator car had arrived sounded. Jon turned to face the doors, but there was a small problem. Only one of the doors opened, but it only opened half way. There, Jon stood, looking at about a quarter of the room he usually enjoyed while boarding the elevator.
“Great,” he muttered. He walked up to the half-opened door and pried his way in until he had enough room to squeeze through. “Lobby please,” he stated to the on-board operating system.
Much to his surprise the usual morning greeting was replaced with a frantic static. He heard crunches and pops and began to feel very uneasy about going down a shaft on this - what was very clearly – a broken elevator car. After a moment the pops and static started to fade, and Jon could make out that old familiar message.
“Good morning, Jon Ballard of Pinnacle City. I trust you slept well and are prepared for a productive day. Please be mindful of all statutes, codes and laws – and above all, have a great day.”
The Cowboy of Pinnacle City Page 5
