The situation was a dire one — I just couldn’t do today’s job on my own. Even if Tiger and Buxa hadn’t harassed me, I still couldn’t have kept up. I was too weak, and the system wasn’t kind to the likes of me. If only I had a few days to get acclimated… Some decent food, a good workout or two…
I put the bucket with what little slime was inside on the receiving belt, and left Block 6 without looking back at my tormentors. As soon as I reached the hallway, I heard a beeping sound. A red light flashed and a narrow door opened in the wall, revealing some kind of shower room.
Shower required immediately.
That sounded like an order. I looked down at myself, turned around, and stepped into the shower. The shower room had metal walls with a design that mimicked tile, and metal grating covering the floor and ceiling. I heard a snorting sound above me, and a rush of lukewarm water flowed down. It lasted about five seconds. A hissing sound, and something faintly citrusy was sprayed onto my head and shoulders. I got the hint and started soaping up. Ten seconds later, I heard the snorting sound again, and quickly put my arms up. When the water flowed down, I started spinning, turning and stomping, washing off the remnants of slime and soap as fast as I could. It was obvious showers wouldn’t be long here.
I stumbled back out into the hallway and immediately, instinctively, checked my financial section. And swore out loud. There was a new debt in my long list of debts:
Balance: 0
Debt status: in debt.
Debt details:
Limb lease: 1 sol.
Immunosuppressants: 1 sol.
Vitamins: 1 sol.
First meaclass="underline" 1 sol.
First water ration: 1 sol.
Shower: 1 sol.
Total debt owed: 6 sol.
Well, at least they didn’t charge me for the soap. Thanks a lot. I didn’t get my job done, I had to waste a sol on a shower, and now I was even deeper in debt. And, if the clock on my interface was to be believed, it was just past noon.
My future didn’t look bright at all…
I dragged myself to the main hallway and collapsed onto a bench — really just a ledge in the wall with a plastic seat covering that ever-present metal. There was some kind of hot pipe underneath that kept the seat warm. I got as comfortable as I could and started thinking.
I had failed to do my job. This meant I was going to have more problems when the evening alarm went off. But what kind of problems? How could I save a few sol? How could I reduce my future debt? What could I do without?
I didn’t have much choice. I had two meals and two water rations left. I couldn’t go without water — I was already thirsty. It seemed like every cell of my body had greedily absorbed the entire liter of water I had before, and not a single drop of it had reached my bladder. I had tried to go in the shower, but couldn’t.
Going without food wasn’t an option, either. I had to act to get out of the quicksand I was trapped in, and actions took energy, which I could only get from food. I couldn’t save a single sol by passing up food and water.
How could I earn even just one sol? It seemed like there was nothing I could do.
A steady stream of people was flowing by. There was no use trying to get someone’s attention with an ‘excuse me’ or ‘could I ask you a question’. I needed to use a more direct approach. Without standing up I raised my voice and asked the crowd:
“I’m new here. I started a job but couldn’t get it done. Will I get anything for what I did? Even just one sol?”
After a second, the answers flew in. I couldn’t remember, of course, but something told me I’d never heard so many simultaneous negative answers in my life. Most of them were almost venomous in their negativity. At least I knew they were telling the truth. I wasn’t going to get a single sol.
“Do you have to pay to use the toilet?”
A few more negative answers trickled in, less spiteful this time.
That made sense — no reason to pay for toilets when you can go in any dark corner. Unsanitary, sure, but at least it was free.
The people passing suddenly scrambled away from the center of the hallway towards the walls, then slowed down. Before I had time to be surprised at this interruption to their rhythm, I heard the now-familiar siren, shorter this time. Got it. Lunch time. The niches in the wall started to open, and I watched people drop wearily into the chairs inside before the doors closed.
It seemed like an overly complicated way to give out water and nutrition cubes. On the other hand, it did give the system total control over the users and full access to their bodies. And behind closed doors, too.
I wondered if they ever rebelled, and how long the rebellions lasted if they did. The system had complete control over the most vital resources — food, water, medicine. How quickly would I die if I stopped taking the immunosuppresants and my body started rejecting the decaying limbs?
No, of course not. They never rebelled. They cast fearful looks at the ceiling. This was the same fear seen in ancient civilizations who looked up to the heavens at their wrathful gods, prepared to smite the wicked at any moment.
I tried to get up and failed. My legs felt like they had turned to jelly. Surprised, I poked at the flabby flesh of my thighs, massaged my calves, and wiggled my feet to get the blood flowing. Come on, you limp noodles! Don’t you want to go get fed? A couple pick-me-up shots, huh? Come on, get the hell up!
It was either the massage or the promise of injection, but I somehow managed to get up and stagger towards the closest niche. I wonder how the system will react if I can’t get up from the chair.
To my surprise, the water was sweetened and went down easy. I drank every last drop. I had seen a few people walking around with some kind of container on their belts or in their hands. Not buckets. More like heavy-duty plastic bottles, about two liters each. I had to get myself one of those — gulping down a liter of water three times a day wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
I filled my mouth with water and popped in the nutrition cube. In a second or two it dissolved, turning the water into what was unmistakably beef broth. I halfheartedly swished it around my mouth a few times, then swallowed. Good lunch. The door opened pointedly. And now my lunch break’s over.
“I can’t do my job,” I complained to the ceiling in frustration.
The ceiling was unmoved. I slid out of the chair, went out into the hallway, and sat back on the bench. What else could I do? My legs and arms were failing me and I couldn’t stop yawning. The other benches were all filled with bums like me, stretched out and sleeping. I lay down on my right side, closed my eyes and fell asleep immediately despite myself. My mind shut down at some inaudible but firm command from my fatigued body.
THIRST WOKE ME UP four hours later. What the hell? I had drunk two liters of water, and the day wasn’t even over yet — it couldn’t be later than five in the evening. I hadn’t taken a piss, I wasn’t sweating all that much, so why was I so damn thirsty? I felt like a dusty old sponge abandoned on a shelf for forty years, then sewn to a couple scraps and used without even soaking it first.
My head felt heavy, and I could sense my headache coming back. I ran my right hand over my face and looked at my fingers. Held my hand in front of my eyes for a minute and twisted it this way and that. My fingers were definitely getting thicker and pinker. I was coming back to life. I sat up straight and did a quick evaluation of my physical condition — I rolled my neck and shoulders, clicked my jaw, moved my eyes, and stretched each limb one by one.