Poor Man's Fight (6 page)

The holographic image of President Gabriel Aguirre shrank away as if the viewer floated back in the air into the audience. Seated in the foreground and now pivoting in her chair to face the viewer was one of the news program’s main anchors. She sat in an auditorium seat dressed in a sharp, flattering suit, but anyone watching the broadcast knew that most of this was simple tricks of computer imaging done after the president’s speech. It looked as if he continued to speak in the background, but in reality the anchor’s presentation had been put together during and afterward the speech. The anchor most likely spoke once the seats around her were completely empty—or, just as likely, the anchor had never physically been at the speech at all.

“Speaking at the prestigious Michelangelo Academy, President Aguirre has chosen the day of the Union Academic Investment Evaluation to attack not only the corporations that run our schools, but indeed the very essence of student financial accountability. While President Aguirre called on all of Archangel to remember the passengers and crew of the liner, he noted that information was still coming in and chose to push on with his speech.”

Once more, the news presentation shifted to an up-close holographic view of the president. His salt-and-pepper hair and the mild signs of aging in his face gave him an air of maturity, but like any man of means, he was quite a bit older than he looked. The spontaneity and energy in his speech were as much a matter of long-polished skill as they were a matter of natural passion.

“This system evolved out of pressure to ensure that students took responsibility for their own education. The Union required, and still requires, an educated populace for its own survival and prosperity. But who should foot the bill? Society? Not everyone has a child. Parents? That would create a daunting economic barrier for many would-be mothers and fathers interested in having a child, all while the Union and most of its member worlds so strongly encouraged raising families.

“The answer our forefathers came to was simple: the student should pay for it. Naturally, a parent could choose to help, but the final legal obligation should land on the student, who at graduation is expected by society to be a responsible young adult. And that answer,” Aguirre said, pausing and shaking his finger just subtly enough that the right cameras would catch him innocently pointing toward the NorthStar builder’s seal on one wall of the auditorium, “came from the very corporations who brought humanity to the stars—and the very corporations who run the highly profitable business of education today.”

“Tanner, are you seriously watching the news?” broke in a live voice. Swaying somewhat on her feet, the young woman moved into the broad kitchen with an empty glass in her hand and an amused look on her face. She wore an adorable party dress and heels much too high for her obvious level of inebriation.

He looked up guiltily. Despite treating his sunburns earlier, his face remained quite red from his run to the test site that morning. A shower and nicer clothes made him look like less of a disaster. The presence of friends and a shift from panic to resignation had at least settled his nerves. “I was just gonna be in here for a few minutes,” he said.

Music and loud, happy voices drifted in from the various exits. Nathan Spencer’s kitchen was bigger than the whole bottom floor of Tanner’s home.

The presidential hologram kept speaking. “Scoring systems and academic expectations have crept, inexorably and constantly, toward ever-higher requirements. Now mere proficiency isn’t enough. It’s not enough if your essay simply answers the test question and gives evidence. It isn’t enough anymore to communicate effectively, to understand day-to-day math and science. Now it’s only the very top scorers who eliminate their educational debts.”

Heather Verde pointed at the image of the president as she walked in on wobbling feet. “Turn him down or turn him off,” she ordered. “This is my moment of triumph, and he’s making me sad, and I didn’t vote for that guy.”

“Our system now puts the expectation on every student to be well above average,” Aguirre said, again flashing his knowing grin. “I look out in this auditorium here and I see an awful lot of people who know exactly what you get when you claim that everyone is above average.”

The anchor then replaced the president once more. “The president’s speech is already being portrayed by his advisors and leaders of his party as a shot across the bow for NorthStar, the Lai Wa Corporation and other education providers. We have reaction from opposition party leaders and from corporate—“

“You weren’t old enough to vote for him,” Tanner smirked, cutting off the projection.

“Well I won’t when he runs again and I am old enough,” she said. “He’s a terrible Catholic.”

“
You’re
a terrible Catholic,” teased Tanner.

She gasped dramatically. “Don’t say that!” Then she looked down at her glass. “Oh, I am a terrible Catholic. And I’m drunk. I’m still not supposed to drink yet. My mom’s gonna kill me.”

Tanner started to laugh, but then he saw Heather’s face screw up into a prelude to wailing tears. He immediately came around the island counter full of
hors d’ourves
and put his arm around Heather’s shoulder. “You’re not, I was kidding. You are a fine Catholic.”

“No, I’m not!” she argued. “You don’t even know! I’ve had my earbuds in so I could study during mass every time my family went to church for the last three months! And then I didn’t tell the priest at confession!”

Again, Tanner had to control his laughter. It was a simple fact of life in the Archangel system: one never knew who was a genuine believer and who was simply a cultural Catholic like himself.

“Hey, don’t be upset,” Tanner said. “You walked out of there not owing a God damn credit, right?”

Heather sniffled hard and nodded. She also hit him on the shoulder. “Don’t say that,” she mumbled. “
You’re
a terrible Catholic.”

“Well, yeah.”

Heather nudged his shoulder again in disapproval. “Anyway… you were saying? I did good on the Test, so…?”

“And you can go confess tomorrow or this weekend or whenever and everything will be okay, right?”

She sniffed again. “Yeah.”

“So it was all worth it.”

“M’kay,” she mumbled. “How did you do? Did you wind up owing anything?”

He held his tongue. “A bit,” he said.

“That’s too bad,” Heather replied, making her sympathetic face. It turned to her quizzical face. “Why did I come in here looking for you? Oh!” She nudged him again. “You’re not mad at me getting valedictorian, are you?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re not and you maybe could’ve been. I didn’t do it to beat you, y’know. I was just doing my best.”

“Heather, it’s fine. I wasn’t even number two or three. I was number five.”

“Because I didn’t want to make people feel bad.”

“Right, I know.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

Christ
, he thought,
she’s really drunk. Or maybe she’s never been drunk before.

“So you’re not changing your plans? Nathan said he offered you a ride home from the Test and you had him take you to a recruiting station for the system navy!”

“Yeah. I did.”

She looked shocked. “Tanner, you can’t join the navy! You’ve never been in a fight in your life!”

“That’s… one of the things my stepmother said about it, yeah,” he winced, scratching his head.

“Why don’t you want to go to university? It’s not because of me, is it? Because even if I did better in school than you, that doesn’t mean you’re not smart! You’re sooo smart, Tanner! You figured out things in school before I did sometimes!”

“Did Nathan tell you I was in here?” he asked suspiciously.

Heather’s eyes widened. “He did,” she said, “because he thought you might be avoiding me!”

“Uh-huh.”

She looked over her shoulder at the closed kitchen door and then turned to Tanner to whisper, “I think Nathan likes me. He said he might visit me at Oxford. That’s on Earth, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know where it is. What the hell, is everyone going to school on Earth? When did Nathan get accepted to someplace there?”

“No, no, he’s taking a gap year,” Heather corrected, slurring mildly. “That’s when you take a year off between graduation and university so you can travel. Only his may be a little longer than a year. I guess his grandparents promised it to him if he held his debts low on the Test.”

Again, he held his tongue. He knew what a gap year was. “Well, if you want to make sure he comes to see you on Earth, you should maybe leave a serious impression on him while you’re both still here, right?” Tanner suggested. “Like maybe tonight?” He saw her eyes light up in agreement. “Let’s go find him.”

He ushered Heather out of the kitchen through the dining room and its lush spread of food to rejoin the party. More than half their school and a portion of several others were in attendance. It made for a bigger party than anything Tanner had seen before at the huge house.

Few knew of his plight. Many had their own debt issues now, but had resigned themselves to such months and even years ago. As the president himself had said, burdensome educational debts were an accepted fact of life for the young.

They found Nathan on a couch, surrounded by his peers. Whatever topic they had before Tanner arrived with Heather died as the valedictorian immediately leapt into Nathan’s lap. He feigned happiness at her arrival until she looked away and then shot Tanner a frustrated glare.

Tanner merely smiled and waved back before disappearing into another hallway. Heather was a lovely girl; Nathan had nothing to complain about there… except for a little awkwardness and self-absorption.

Roaming through the house, Tanner found any number of friends but felt less inclined to talk to them. Nobody needed to hear of his woes on a night like tonight. Nor could anyone likely help him. He kept up a brave front, smiling, waving and occasionally conversing, but largely just drifting through the party.

I may never see most of these people again.

Some would move to other spots on Michael. A few would relocate to other planets in the system, and some beyond. A good number would likely remain in the city of Geronimo.

Tanner hadn’t planned on staying. He loved the desert and the heat, but he grew up feeling that adulthood meant moving away from home. Both of his parents had done that. Now he had no way to stay, and only one way to leave.

“Hey! Tanner!” a voice shouted as he passed the open doors to the balcony. He turned to see Allison playfully pushing through a swarm of young men, clad in a form-hugging green silk dress that threatened to stop his heart. For all he knew, she had gone straight from the Test to a salon.

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly and then letting go to take a look at him. “Nice burn. Life any better?”

“I’m not really sure how to answer that,” he admitted.

“C’mon.” She gestured to a free portion of the wide balcony. “Let’s talk.”

“Hey, Allison!” called a voice. “Gymnastics team photo!”

“Five minutes,” she answered back over her shoulder, waving them off but still flashing a grin. She tugged Tanner over to the balcony edge. “So what happened?”

“I got on my holocom and did some research after the Test while I waited for Nathan to finish. He thinks I’m crazy for even considering this,” Tanner added. “But it’s just like you said. System militia fleet is the better option for enlisting. I read up on the credit-matching payoff program they offer for educational debt. Seems like a worthwhile thing financially.”

“How did things go with the recruiter?”

“I’m definitely qualified, at least. We talked, filled out the paperwork, he went over my records and his eyes lit up like it was Christmas bonus time or something. I get the feeling they reject a lot of applicants.” Nothing in his tone conveyed excitement. “I didn’t commit to anything. He put all my stuff on file and said he’d hold a place for me that could have me ship out next week. Then I went home to think about it and talk to my parents.”

“How’d that go?”

“Sharon flipped out, just like we both knew she would.”

“Yeah. What about your dad?”

“He didn’t know which way to go. Mom hardly ever had anything bad to say about her time in the service, but he kinda feels the same way as Sharon. Mostly I just think he doesn’t see me as soldier material. But he didn’t say a lot. Seemed like it was only just then hitting home how screwed up my situation is and he felt guilty about it.

“I dunno, thing is… Sharon wasn’t wrong,” Tanner frowned, looking out over the balcony as he spoke. “She said the military preys on people in bad financial situations like mine. Said they take advantage of the whole system. Said they’d work to change me and make me more callous and comfortable with hurting people. And she said that virtually all wars are just the young and poor like me dying for the lies of old rich people. And she’s right.”

Whatever Allison’s first response might have been, she bit it back. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, I can’t entirely argue all that. Still. Sometimes the lies are all on one side.”

“No, I get that,” he nodded. “But it’s a lot to think about. She asked me if I wanted to be a tool for someone else’s political agenda, and… well, I don’t.”