Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
Quis Custodiet?
Monday, January 17th, 2011
The drones came and circled, glided off. Never fewer than three in view; never more than ten. The border was a showpiece for the strategy of Mutually Assured Detection, and I did my bit to count and verify and uphold the treaty’s red tape.
Rain came with the dusk, and when my touchscreen chimed the official end of daylight, I retreated to my hut. While I waited for my self-heating supper to cool, I watched the light wash over the hut, the glass block walls and ceiling filtering a hazy glow over my bedroll, the binder of daily code settings, and my little supper.
I was just realizing that the walls had been midnight dark for at least ten minutes when a voice broke in. “Panoptico employees! In today’s realtime bidding, we have lost the north-central border region contract. Please proceed immediately to an approved exit trail. Panoptico…”
Before it finished repeating, I’d dropped my spork, grabbed my personal effects pack, and was running down the trail. One of the drones had been assigned to my trail; its spotlight would have been helpful, but apparently we’d already been cut off from the premium GPS, so the creosote bushes and rocks about fifteen feet to my left were daylight bright rather than the ones I ran through and tripped over.
When I got to the collection point, four other watchers were waiting, nursing their own bruises and cuts. I stood in the cold, tried not to think about where I’d be assigned next, and how maybe it was time to move to something more steady like drone maintenance, or leave the company completely, like my friends back home were always telling me. Not much time to fret or think, though, since one of the drones soon hovered over in speakermode: “Panoptico employees! We have completed a merger with SeeAndBeSeen LLC, and acquired all their contracts, including the NCBR. Your previous assignments are reinstated.”
I trudged back up the mountain. Halfway, though, I had a change of heart—I’d done this long enough, given Panoptico enough years of sunburn and lonely boredom. Time for a change.
Five steps down the path, my touchpad chimed. I don’t know how they got the cameras there, but there was no question of what they’d captured, or who.
I turned around and resumed my uphill climb, hoping nothing had gotten at what remained of my supper.
Tech Gods
Friday, January 14th, 2011
Lem stepped off the elevator and realized he didn’t have any change. He slapped his pockets, looking for something smaller than a 10. Margie would kill him if he blew $10 on an elevator ride. She didn’t believe in propitiating the gods anyway. “They wouldn’t have given us this technology if they didn’t want us to use it,” she always said. This attitude was why he hadn’t been promoted beyond second-grade, he was sure, but try telling her that!
Someone nudged his arm. It was Jenelle, the new IT specialist whose office was still being painted. Someone had forgotten to propitiate the God of something or other and the painters had refused to work until it was taken care of. Jenelle was holding a nickel.
“Oh thanks,” Lem said. He dropped it in the brass dish, muttering “Thank you for this lift.”
“How is your office coming?”
She frowned. “I’m still camped in the coffee room.”
“Share my office,” he said. That evening on his way home, Lem put $10 in a streetside kiosk dedicated to Libidos, patron of deceivers.
Margie was not affectionate, even downright cold. Could she read his mind?
Lem helped Jenelle carry the old wooden desk into his office. He moved his desk over so hers could fit in front of the window too. He emptied one drawer in his file cabinet for her. He couldn’t help staring at her whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice. As the days passed, her attire seemed skimpier and more transparent. All he could think about was her flesh moving under her blouse and skirt. In his fantasies, she wore nothing underneath.
One day they both stayed late. The floor was deserted. He closed the door, leaned on her desk. He looked her in the eye. “You know what I’m thinking,” he said.
“I’ll draw the curtains,” she replied, and did.
—
“This was a high-dollar job,” the inspector said. “The blood has been completely drained. Not the work of your standard succubus. He moved the extra desk into his office about three weeks ago?”
The office manager shrugged. “No one else wanted it. More room in the lounge. No idea why he wanted it in here.”
The inspector rubbed his chin. “Any change in his behavior? Apart from the desk.”
The office manager shook his head. “Nothing beyond staying late alone almost every night.”
The office manager reached out to catch the inspector’s sleeve as he turned to leave. “Who called the succubus?”
“It’s usually the wife. That’s where my money is.”
End