World-Mart (2 page)
William, George’s neighbor across the hall and a criminal defense manager for Law-Corp, found a seat at the end of George’s bench. “Hey, George, how’d the day treat you?”
George nodded complacently. “Just fine. And you?”
“Can’t complain. Just the same, I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday.”
George gave a knowing nod. He tolerated William well enough, although he found the man to be rather long-winded and dull. William came from money, as did his wife. Neither was exceptionally bright, and their family connections were likely all that kept either in the Corp Segregate. Still, they were the most tolerable people in the complex and it was never a bad thing to have friends who knew people in high Corporate places.
George sighed, looking down the tunnels for any sign that their shuttle was on its way. Other shuttles came and left, and still Line 150 was nowhere to be seen. “With what Trans-Corp charges, you’d think they would be on time every once in a while, eh?”
“You’d think.”
The men took turns shaking their heads in disgust when the Line 150 shuttle came tearing into the garage. The sudden, heavy brakes sent it to a screeching halt, causing both men to jump to their feet. Neither took a step forward, knowing that something was amiss.
The shuttle doors sprang open, and half a dozen gun-toting deviants fanned out. Everyone in the vicinity hit the ground as one of them shot into the ceiling, crying out: “Listen up, you Corporate sons of bitches!”
Most deviants could almost pass for normal humans, if it were not for their eyes. Not even contact lenses could dull the eerie, almost reflective, telltale blue, crystalline sheen that easily gave their kind away.
While scientists in the twenties scrambled against infectious diseases and global warming, a short window opened in which all sorts of genetic experiments were conducted in the name of saving humanity.
Deviants, descendants of those who had undergone germ-line genetic manipulation, only had a slightly higher resistance to infections than most normal humans. Ultimately, Corporate deemed their genetic makeup a failure, because they also tended to have relatively smaller brains. Because of their assumed inferior intelligence levels, deviants were allocated into the manual labor division of the Mart Segregate. They were seen rarely on this end of the district.
George and William huddled behind their bench, hoping they might go ignored.
“Everybody stay down and do what you’re told, and nobody will get hurt!” the apparent leader of the deviant group screamed. “I want into Law-Corp! I need to see a file!”
No one responded.
The deviant pointed his gun at William’s head. “You look like a manager! On your feet!”
William slowly got up, putting his arms in the air. “I work in Defense! I’m one of the good guys!” The color from his face went nearly sheet white as he stared at the gun’s barrel. His entire body shook. “We can talk about this without a gun pointed at my head, eh?”
The deviant didn’t move. He eyed William’s keys. “You can get me into the file room!” His commanding voice, amplified by the gun in his hands, did nothing to change the fact that he obviously had no understanding of the inner workings of a Corp establishment.
William’s face glistened as he broke into a sudden, heavy sweat. “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t have those keys!”
“Then tell me who does!” The deviant charged a few steps toward William, his gun still aimed to kill.
“I don’t know!” William cried, his arms waving in front of him as if they might divert a potential bullet. “Please don’t shoot me!”
Everyone turned as an armored Police-Corp shuttle shot into the garage, lights spinning, and gracefully slid to a halt behind the hijacked Line 150 shuttle. William fell to his knees and closed his eyes, positive that he was living his last moments, when an officer fearlessly exited the shuttle and shot the deviant in the head.
Another deviant turned to aim at the officer, only to be shot as well. The rest, watching the squad of officers filing out and taking aim, quickly dropped their weapons and surrendered themselves.
William lowered even further, placing his hands on the cold cement ground. He took deep breaths, working to compose himself.
George hurried to his side. “Are you okay?”
William nodded.
“It’s always deviants, whenever you hear about a crime,” George muttered, watching the police associates drag the two bodies into the shuttle. The other four deviants stood in a circle, handcuffed, cursing their misfortune. George helped William to his feet.
William gave him a grateful nod. “I wonder what that was about!”
“I don’t think they need a reason,” George said, perking up as a few of the officers began to clear the Line 150 shuttle.
There were bodies inside. The officers, many now covered in plastic, dragged out three bloodied security associates and a shuttle manager. Obviously, they had not let the deviants hijack the empty shuttle without a fight. It was no wonder the Police-Corp shuttle had arrived so quickly. There already likely had been an altercation at the shuttle’s previous stop. Perhaps this had even been an organized effort, with more Corporations than just Law-Corp being targeted.
Both men watched in horror as a crew of sanitation associates came in to clean the shuttle. They took their time, and when they finally left, their mops and rags were stained a dark, muddy red. William became hysterical when it came time to board.
“You can’t just stay here!” George yelled.
“I just need a minute!”
“The shuttle will be gone in a minute!” George grabbed William by the jacket and began to drag him in. William crumpled to a mass on the steel floor as George pulled him toward a row of empty seats.
William scrambled to a seat beside George, visibly shaking as the doors shut and the shuttle zipped out of the garage.
“You need to get a handle on yourself,” George said with a concerned frown.
“I know . . . I don’t know what’s come over me!”
“The world didn’t come to an end. A group of deviants happened to get their hands on a few firearms.” George slapped William on the back, dismayed at the size of William’s flinch. “A harrowing experience to impress your friends, hey?”
William shrugged. He stared straight ahead, his lip quivering as he fell frozen in a moment of flashback. George turned to the window, pretending not to see, watching instead the rain beating down against the shuttle. Visibility beyond the rain was close to zero.
“I need a good, stiff drink,” William finally said.
George rolled his eyes. The snob in William was capable of coming out even in times of total crisis. With resources as scarce as they were, alcohol had become a rare commodity. Not many people had the money to throw away on something so unnecessary.
“I wish we weren’t eating out tonight!” William uttered with newfound wretchedness.
“Maybe you should just go home. I’m sure Judith will get the picture when you don’t show up.”
William shook his head. “I can’t just leave her there! It’s a long walk back from the Food-Mart to Housing, you know!”
“Then pick her up and escort her safely through the tunnels, like you’ve done a million times before!”
The shuttle began to slow as it neared their district Housing. George stood, glad that the craziness to his day was about to end, bracing against the inertia of the massive shuttle slowing.
William fell into a panic, his body twitching and shaking as giant sobs began to escape him. “I can’t do this!”
“People are looking at you!” George whispered.
“I think I’m having one of those . . . you know, mental breakdowns!” William chuckled between sobs. “I can’t breathe!” He began to hyperventilate.
George gave a frustrated huff. “Just get off and go home. Give Virginia a holler and tell her I went to pick up Judith for you, okay?”
William’s face went wild with relief and gratitude. “You’d do that for me? Oh, you’re a good friend—a
good
friend!”
The shuttle came to a halt at Housing, and George watched William scurry away, reiterating his thanks until the doors snapped closed and the shuttle was on its way to the Food-Mart.
JUDITH looked angry when George finally found her. The temperature in the tunnels had dropped below freezing with dusk, and she stood by the heat of a floodlight, shivering beneath her thick coat. She gave George a sideways glance as he approached her. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, not quite looking at him.
“William sent me.”
“Please don’t tell me I waited all this time in the cold only for my husband to stand me up,” she growled.
“There was a . . . well, an incident at the Law-Corp garage. William almost got shot by a deviant. Freaked him out a little. He sent me to walk you home.”
She crossed her arms, making a show of her protest. “I stayed out here for a good meal, and a good meal is what I’m going to get! What do you feel like, Chinese or Mexican?”
George shook his head. “Virginia’s got pork chops waiting for me at home.”
“Fine. I’ll get a to-go bag from the Fast Food-Mart,” Judith said. George followed as she stormed toward the large main building.
The Restaurant Division of Food-Mart was much like any shopping mall, and was one of few establishments licensed to stay open past dusk. Most buildings, fitted with solar panels and windmills, could only generate enough electricity to keep lit for part of the day. No longer supplemented by local nuclear or water-powered generators, the energy crisis hit its peak, and then stayed there. Corporate reduced the people’s allocations, telling them that there was no longer enough energy for them to be able to use it day and night.
A typical home only had enough energy to offset the extreme temperatures, light a few rooms for a few hours before sunrise or after sunset, and cook one small meal. Most businesses lost all electrical power at dusk. Transportation-Corp began to shut down its services shortly thereafter, running only commuter shuttles until seven, and then keeping minimal lines open for the Police- and Medical-Corps until dawn.
George followed Judith to the fried chicken line.
“I should probably get something for William,” Judith mumbled. “Of course, it will probably be really cold by the time I get it home.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” George said, indifferent. He jumped with a start as a deviant bumped into him, grabbing his jacket to keep from tripping over and falling to the floor. With a smile, the deviant turned around and took off.
“Hey!” George turned to grab the lanky young man, but he disappeared in the crowd of people.
Judith glanced over with an annoyed huff. “Some people!”
George dug into his inside pocket, relieved to find that his wallet was still intact.
Judith got to the front counter and ordered two dinner combinations, and an apathetic food associate handed her a ticket with a number on it.
“Your bags?” the associate asked.
Judith looked at the associate for a moment, and then dug into her coat pockets with a sudden look of realization. She pulled out two folded up burlap bags and handed them over the counter.