Hadrian's Rage (6 page)

Wolf spits between his teeth into the water. “Nope,” Wolf grumbles. “The fucker fired me.”

“What?” Matt is truly dismayed. Everyone knows Wolf to be a hard case, but he always does his job with no slacking. “Why would Malco fire you?”

“Because he's a fucking dick; that's why.”

Matthew crosses over to Wolf and puts a hand on the older man's shoulder. “I know you're pissed, man, but come on; what happened?”

“It's simple; he called me a dirty strai, threatened to expose me, and when I told him he couldn't get me exiled anymore, he decided the next best thing was to fire me.”

“But,” Matthew stammers, “he can't do that, can he?”

“Oh, yeah,” Wolf grimaces, “he can and he did. There ain't no law protecting us, you know. Just because the government passed a law saying it won't exile us or try to force-feed strai rats henbane anymore doesn't mean we can't still be legally fired just for being straight!”

“Yeah, but,” Matthew feels almost stupid saying this, “you did the re-ed thing, too, didn't you?”

“Fuck, yeah, I did that shit. Fat lot a good it did, too, except scare the emotional shit out of me for life.” Scowling now, Wolf adds, “You, too; don't fucking pretend otherwise,
Matty
, me lad. Me little paddle me backside leprechaun.”

Matthew had confided in Wolf shortly after taking on this job. He told the older man about Gideon Weller's treatment and that horrible day he had suffered a second paddling, by Gideon Weller's hand, and his having passed out mid-beating. Although he never saw it, he was told how the paddle dripped blood when the vicious beating was over. “Don't—” Nearing tears, Matthew barely manages to hold them back. “I meant, well, he can't claim you're still straight, not after graduating re-ed and all.”

“He says I confessed—fuck,” Wolf mutters. “I almost practically did.” Seeing deep concern in Matthew's eyes, having mentored the youth when he first came to the docks to work, Wolf softens some and explains. “There was a boat of refugees, a small group of gay men. Fuck!” Near exasperation, Wolf utters “fuck” with a guttural grunt. “Ten of them—there were only ten of them. They had escaped persecution, I don't even know from what fucking country. They said if forced to go back, they'd be stoned. In their country, being gay is punishable by death. I guess, in those countries, they bury the poor fuckers up to their chests and then pelt them with rocks until rescued by death.”
11

Matthew shudders. “I'd rather drink henbane.”

“Yeah, that sounds more merciful, doesn't it?”

The acerbic slurring slaps Matthew as if he were to blame. “Gee, Wolf, come on.”

“I'm sorry, kid; this whole thing's got me messed-up in the head, a real mind fuck. I have no fucking idea what I'm gonna do now. It's hard enough getting hired as a re-ed, but to be a fired re-ed, fired for being straight—I might as well drink the fucking henbane anyway.”

“Tell me what you said—everything, exactly like it happened.”

Matthew's earnest plea makes Wolf feel compelled to comply. “I felt something for these men, you know, living a similar sort of persecution. I figured, ‘Why the fuck not? They're gay, there's only ten of 'em, and shit, it's not like the country's busting at the seams with people like the rest of the planet,' so I took their petition to Malco. I thought he might listen, talk to bigwigs, maybe do something to help them.” Sighing now, Wolf continues, “I sure as hell never expected what happened. Next thing I know, he's spitting in my face all kinds of rhetoric about population control, diseases of the outside world, and they're not really gay but a bunch of fucking strai liars trying to play on our sympathies to get inside our borders.” Then, shaking his head in dismay, Wolf cuts his story short. “I don't know what the fuck was said after that except a bunch of yelling and him calling me every fucking het'ro slur he could muster, and he threatened to expose me. He even blinked open his voc call display so I could watch him place the call. That's when I told him to go right ahead, that they don't exile heterosexuals anymore.” Sighing deeply, Wolf concludes, “He took that as a confession and fired me on the spot for being straight.”

“Well,” Matthew responds confidently, “I'm gonna help you get your job back.”

“How?” Matthew's assertion is so strong Wolf is almost inclined to believe him. Cynicism, however, quickly quells any stirrings of hope.

“You remember that kid, Todd Middleton?”

“Yeah, the b-ball star.”

“And a confessed strai. I was in re-ed with him. I met his father and his papa at his funeral.”

“Middleton's?”

“No, fuck, I mean Hunter's—that Hunter kid that killed him.”

“Hunter?” The name comes out in a whisper. Understanding begins to dawn. “You met the big guy, Geoffrey Hunter?” Wolf allows some feeling of hope to prevail. “You think…you think he might help…might help me?”

“Well, I'm gonna fucking try and ask him,” Matthew asserts with conviction.

Too easily swayed by bitterness, Wolf spits out, “They won't even let you talk to him.”

“I'll tell 'em I knew Todd Middleton; that'll get his attention. I'm sure of it.”

“Well, fuck, why not? You try, why not? Try for me, kid. It probably won't work, but I appreciate you trying.”

“It'll work,” Matthew reassuringly promises. “It'll work.”

A horn sounds off, signaling the arrival of the return ferry. Wolf offers the youth an appreciative nod, clasps Matthew's shoulder, and then playfully shoves his young friend towards the boat. They ascend the ramp together, both men almost smiling.

As many of you are aware, there is an ongoing debate regarding the treatment of the reeducation class in the workplace. Those who graduate from reeducation often find themselves working in less desirable positions, the least of which is the lowly one of the detritus fisherman. These men and women toil endlessly to clean Hudson Bay by retrieving reusable wastes and disposing of toxins pulled from the heavily polluted waters. Stats indicate that at least 65 percent of all detritus fishermen are re-ed. This, of course, is due to Hadrian’s previous education policy that denied re-eds uni entrance. At the request of the Dean of Augustus Uni, the policy was revised after President Stiles signed the bill making heterosexuality legal. This once fine institution has suffered greatly due to the stigma of the nuclear attack against that city on that fateful day of 6-13—Ironically—the uni’s decision to be inclusive of heterosexuals has hindered the uni’s growth, which is now associated with nuclear radiation and—and—rampant—heterosexual orgies.

Excuse this divergence as the focus of tonight’s
Salve!
is workplace discrimination. While many argue that no such discrimination exists, members of the re-ed class, feeling emboldened by President Stiles’s recent change in laws regarding heterosexuality, have come forth to register complaints. Pazima Zulu, Quadrant Four’s Ombudsman spokeswoman, has reported a significant increase in complaints from re-eds employed as detritus fishermen. Quadrants Four and One, as you know, are the home to the majority of our re-ed class as, besides Antinous City, the majority of detritus fishery factories are housed nearest to the Hudson Bay waters. Zulu believes our re-ed citizens, especially detritus fishermen, need greater protection under the law. One recommendation she makes is that management, especially of the detritus fisheries industry, undergo sensitivity
training to better help employers understand the individuals who work in one of our most dangerous industries. “Not only do these workers suffer from numerous medical issues due to the exposure to chemical pollutants, they also have to incur discrimination on a daily basis. Even after having been reeducated, many of them still suffer the stigma of being considered straight.” Her reasoning is sound a—I’m sorry?—Yes—I said, yes!

Humph. I’ve been asked to remind our viewers that all of Hadrian’s citizens are employed—but no one wants to be forced to work alongside heterosexuals—which is—understandable. Employers simply ask that you use common sense and not reveal any unseemly attractions to persons of the opposite sex. Individuals are urged to repress offensive sexual inclinations. If you do not act upon repugnant desires, you will have no issues to deal with at work.

Va—

I’m sorry—it is also important to remember—What?—Heterosexuals are—are—dangerous members of society—if you think—no—if you believe—a coworker might be—strai—report him—to your employer immediately.

Vale!

Geoffrey’s late return home from work follows a very similar routine. He quietly calls on the living room’s lights and wall screen. As Roger is already in bed, likely having been asleep for over an hour, Geoffrey never wants to wake him. Waking Roger might result in a conversation. Roger always insists they talk at dinnertime, but Geoffrey never feels like talking. He comes home for supper every night, though, because a teary-eyed Roger would constantly voc him to please come home. Still, Geoffrey is always able to find a reason to return to work.
I’m a fucking horrible dad!
Geoffrey mutters to himself, another regular aspect of his late night routine.

The first thing Geoffrey does when he enters the living room is to toss his suit jacket towards the couch, miss it as usual, and ignore that the jacket falls to the floor. As he stretches and attempts to crack his back, he calls up his messaging system: “Voc mail on.” Although he could simply blink and pull up a small screen for his eyes only, Geoffrey is always too tired at this time of the night; he never gets home before 11:30 p.m. He needs the wall screen in order to blow up images for him and to increase print size if necessary. “Messages. Vocal, please.”

The voice of Geoffrey’s voc message system is Dean’s. He had Dean record his voice to use for his voc a few years back. Even though Dean has been out of his life for almost two years now, he can’t bring himself to change it. Geoffrey shudders briefly as he hears his ex-lover’s voice: “You have two messages.”

“First message?”

“Destiny Stuttgart.”

“Play.”

Destiny Stuttgart’s image appears on the screen. Even at eighty-eight, she is quite alert and perky. Her hair is completely white, thinning some, but she
successfully combs it up and curls it in such a way as to hide her bald spot. She is smiling and her eyes twinkle, complementing her wrinkles. “Hello, Geoffrey. I hope this message finds you well. I had hoped you would be home. It is, after all, 8:30. Who spends the evenings with Roger? I know Dean worries about him. You leave the boy alone far too often. Is being CEO of Hadrian’s Detritus Fisheries really that important? I know you make a decent wage and are using it to help pay for Dean’s uni and saving up for Roger’s—”

Geoffrey mumbles amidst Destiny’s speech, “I can’t believe he’s going to graduate this year, and so early.” For Roger, the best way of coping with his father’s workaholic nature, his fathers separating, and Frank being sentenced to a life of servitude in the military was to become a workaholic just like his dad. He began fast tracking as soon as he started grade ten, and now, in the first semester of his grade twelve year, Roger is able to graduate early. In fact, as his grades are exceptionally high, always mid to high 90s, Roger has successfully convinced Pride Administration to let him write his finals early so he can begin uni at the start of the new year. It was his counselor at Antinous Uni, Joel Lipmann, who came up with the idea. In fact, Professor Lipmann contacted Pride High on Roger’s behalf, which helped ensure the young man could finish his last semester of high school one month early. Roger will graduate from grade twelve on December 20th, the last day of school before the New Year holiday season begins.

Mimi’s voice shakes Geoffrey out of his reverie. Mimi, used to Geoffrey shutting down during their voc calls, will often intersperse her messages with a curt reminder, “Geoffrey, are you listening? I hope so.” Geoffrey always shudders when this happens because Mimi always seems able to time these reminders at just the right moment.
Every time that woman vocs, I swear by Hadrian’s Lover she is standing in this very room!
“As I was saying, Dean tells me you are more than financially able to fund Roger’s uni education. He worries that you work too much—”

Speaking over Destiny’s voice, this time, Geoffrey grumbles, “Worries so much he never bothers to voc me.”

Again, it’s almost as if Destiny is in the room with Geoffrey. “I know he hasn’t voc’d you yet—”

“For over two years.” Geoffrey struggles to control his emotions.

Again, Destiny responds with foresight into what she knew would be Geoffrey’s response. “—and that it has been two years, but please try to understand that Dean has been through a lot.”

“And I haven’t?”

“As have you.” Geoffrey shudders. It really does feel as if Dean’s grandmother is in the room with him and not just an image on the wall screen.

“I remember how difficult it was for you during the trial, having to deal with both Frank and Dean being so distant. Their refusal to talk or even look at one another after you told Dean—Oh, Geoffrey, I don’t think you should have told Dean. How will he ever learn to forgive?”

Geoffrey steps closer to the wall as if he is actually addressing the woman. “Oh, yes, it’s all my fault!”

“I don’t mean to blame you; really, I don’t. It’s just, well, sometimes certain things are better left unsaid.”

“Dean had a right to know!”

“I know you believe it was important, but—ah, well, all that is water under the bridge, as they say. We need to move forward, and we can, Geoffrey, if you have faith.”

“Faith?” The incredulity in Geoffrey’s voice is the result of Destiny’s use of a word that holds no meaning in his life and the fact that it really does feel like he is having a face-to-face conversation with the woman. “What are you,” he shouts to the wall, “a fucking psychic?” Realizing he has raised his voice, Geoffrey immediately starts whispering again. What Geoffrey doesn’t know is that Roger is startled by the sound of his voice and has stumbled into the hall. He restrains himself from entering the living room, though, as it really does sound like his father is talking to someone—or rather having an argument, so he stops short and quietly listens. His father is so elusive these days that spying on his conversations is sometimes the only way Roger gets any news about Geoffrey’s life.

“At any rate, Geoffrey,” Destiny replies, “the reason for this call is to ask you to transfer 12,000 credits into Dean’s uni account. Oh, Geoffrey, he is doing so well. I am so proud of him. He is always in his study. I have to pull him out for dinner and breaks, but uni is very demanding. He feels so overwhelmed at times. The workload and pace required of him leave him quite exhausted. There’s a reason why we do uni in our youth. It really is a lifestyle designed for the young. Just listen to me; my thoughts wander far too often these days. What was I saying? Oh, yes, 12,000 credits. He doesn’t want me to remind you of this since he’s already feeling guilty about allowing you to help pay the costs, but you did insist and, well, I agree with you. We both know I can carry the cost easily myself, but this
one gesture on your part does help maintain a connection between the two of you—”

“Some connection.”

“It may not be much, but it ties Dean to you, and I do believe he still loves you. Please be patient with him. We often talk about you—”

Destiny isn’t allowed to finish because Geoffrey can listen to no more. “Delete message.” After rubbing his eyes, wiping away the tears he struggles so hard not to release, Geoffrey stands erect; he tightens his torso before releasing a deep breath. “Open credit account.” Geoffrey’s arms cross, his hands in fists, as his right hand taps his thumb against his mouth. “Transfer 12—No, make it 13—transfer 13,000 credits into Dean Hun—correction, into Dean Stuttgart’s uni account.”

Still hiding in the hall, Roger smiles. His father still loves Dean. He worries about him and wants to make sure he doesn’t find himself short of credit. Just as Roger is about to enter the living room, he hears his father open a second message and listens to Papa Dean’s automated voice recite, “Second message from Matthew Malloy.”

“Who?” Geoffrey looks at the wall screen, his inquiry prompting the voc messaging system to retrieve Matthew’s image. “The boy looks familiar.” Chewing now on his thumb, he ponders the image for a minute until recognition dawns. It is the young man who was Todd Middleton’s roommate at the Northeast Reeducation Camp. “Open.”

Appearing on the wall screen is the vid image of Matthew Molloy.
For such a young man—he can’t be more than twenty-one
, Geoffrey thinks, —
his face is so withered. Hadrian’s Lover, he looks thirty.
Geoffrey sighs as he realizes this could have happened to Dean.

Geoffrey didn’t.

And then Matthew Molloy did something quite strange. He knuckled his forehead. Geoffrey paused the vid image at that point.
Why is he doing that?
And then Geoffrey remembered Dean telling him how knuckling the forehead used to be a sign of respect expected from the lower class after addressing someone of a higher class. Dean had done that when they first met at the Northeast Reeducation Camp. Gideon Weller had imposed this on the young men in his camp to instill in them their new place in society. Geoffrey’s tears begin to flow freely as he whispers, “Dean, Dean.” After a time, Geoffrey brings himself under control. Looking up at Matthew Molloy’s image, he decides to respond. “Open reply link.” He pauses briefly to collect his thoughts. “Matthew, yes, I remember you. I will look into Wolf Gaidosch’s case.” He takes a moment to study the young man’s face one last time. “Send reply.”

With the messages taken care of, Roger assumes his father will head to his room. This is his usual routine, so Roger moves to the center of the hall to greet him, but tonight, something different happens. Maybe it was watching Matthew Molloy knuckle his forehead, coupled with the reminder of Dean with Destiny Stuttgart’s message, that solicits Geoffrey’s inner longing for his lost lover. Roger turns to stone when he hears Geoffrey mutter, “Voc mate. Full flesh sensitivity.” Voc mates are the latest fad in
Hadrian. You can design a holographic partner who will interact with you sexually. With full flesh sensitivity, it can feel like having sex with a thick bowl of jelly. Kids at school had been talking about using these and how bizarre and fun they could be. As one friend put it, “It takes masturbation to a whole new level!” The last thing in Hadrian Roger ever expected to learn was that his father had created his own voc mate. Leaning forward just enough, Roger sees that his father’s voc mate is Papa Dean. Then his father chooses a position. “Hands and knees.” Suddenly, Roger feels like a voyeur. The last thing he wants to do is listen in on his father’s—masturbation. He quickly turns around and scuttles back to his room without ever letting his father know he has awoken.