“Thank you,” said the associate, gesturing to the credit reader.
Judith zipped her credit card through the reader, and then she and George moved aside to wait for her number to come up. The line suddenly became extremely long.
Judith smiled. “Looks like we got here just in time.”
George watched a few people who waited alongside them while they listened for a food associate to call Judith’s number. Judith moved closer to the counter as the people walked away with their bags of greasy food. She impatiently looked at her ticket.
Judith was only a secretary for Medical-Corp, but she somehow managed to dress like a high-level manager. She wore an expensive full-length coat, covering a long, finely embroidered skirt and black, short-heeled boots that made her almost as tall as George. She had perfectly guided make-up, with flawless red lips and subtly defined eyes, and she wore her dark hair back in a tight bun. She looked smarter and much more interesting than she actually was.
Judith moved to the counter as her number blared through a loud speaker, and she traded her ticket for two bags and two large sodas. She carefully balanced the entire load in her tiny arms, and then handed the cold drinks to George. She turned to the tunnel entrance that led to Housing.
George immediately understood why Judith had handed the drinks to him, the cold air combined with the icy drinks numbing his fingers. He noted Judith’s quick pace and hurried to keep up with her.
“That was really nice of you to walk me home,” Judith said, staying just a few steps ahead of him.
George nodded. “Sure.”
Judith dug into one of the bags and began eating her French fries. “So a deviant almost shot William?”
“Yeah.”
“No joke?” Judith turned to gauge George’s face.
George’s face was serious. “I don’t miss pork chop night on account of a joke.”
They continued down the tunnel, and the rain began to pound loudly overhead. The tunnels were an elaborate system that connected most of the main structures in each district. Most of the tunnels were made for pedestrian traffic, although a good number of them also shielded parts of the shuttle tracks. One could travel outside, but only when the weather permitted, and that was rare these days.
The sounds of precipitation overhead grew louder and heavier, and George looked up as if the ceiling might collapse with the deluge. “Man, it’s really coming down,” he said.
“Can you believe they’re having a drought just fifty miles away?” Judith said with another huff.
“That’s got to be an exaggeration.”
She looked around to see if there was anyone nearby who might overhear her words. “I’ve seen pictures,” she finally said, keeping her voice low. “My father works for Info-Corp. You wouldn’t believe the things that don’t reach the
associates
.” She put her first finger over her mouth. “We don’t tell too many people, so if you could keep it our little secret?”
George nodded. He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
By the time they reached Housing, the cups in George’s hands had gone soft with condensation and Judith’s bags of food were greasy and cold. George handed the cups to William as soon as his door opened, and then he went across the hall to his humble but cozy apartment.
Tired and cold, George found a light on in the kitchen. Virginia sat, her untouched dinner sitting before her. George’s dinner waited for him beside hers. “I waited for you,” she said in her sweet, soft voice.
George sat down, seeing that the kids’ plates had already been cleared. “Sorry I’m late.”
She nodded. She took a bite of processed pork, prompting him to try his. She had blond hair that she kept long, often tying it into a loose ponytail over one shoulder. She was a patient and thoughtful woman, and even after so many years of marriage, she never failed to stir a feeling of deep contentment in him every time she smiled. And he thought her canned, reconstituted pork chops were amazing, even after sitting on the table for two hours.
“I had a long day,” he said, the pork chops helping him to forget about the numerous events that had complicated his evening thus far.
“So I heard,” she said, trying the room-temperature garlic-mashed potatoes. “You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head, “no.”
“Well, my day was the same as usual.” She got a strained look to her face, as if she were drudging up a willfully discarded memory. “The women at the office are all such nosey gossips. It’s like working in an Info-Corp circle on a slow day.”
“You’re lucky if that’s the worst of it.” George took off his heavy jacket, the outside chill finally having left him. He laid his jacket over the back of his chair, too spent to go all the way to the hallway closet and hang it where it belonged.
Virginia noticed the time and got up to turn out the light. The faint glow from the wall heater was suddenly all that lit the room. Restrictions were strictly enforced on nighttime wattage use, and Virginia had gotten counting their allotment down to a science. She made her way back to her seat.
“Did you know that Judith’s father works for Info-Corp?” George asked through the darkness.
“Really?”
“You can’t tell anyone. She told me in confidence.”
Virginia nodded.
The two finished their dinner despite the dark. Virginia determined that washing the dishes could wait until tomorrow, when she had more light, and so they quietly retreated to the bedroom to make love and wait for sleep to take them into another day.
Virginia fell asleep quickly, her face smiling as she fell into happy dreams.
George lay in silence, contemplating the day.
SHELLEY and Kurt sat at the kitchen table eating peanut butter sandwiches. Virginia set a sandwich in front of George, along with a cup of stale coffee, and then sat down at the far end of the table with her own cold breakfast.
Fifteen-year-old Shelley was tall and thin, a natural blonde with dark blue eyes. Human blue was far different from deviant blue, and luckily hers fell on the darker end of the scale. If they were dark, there was no question. Shelley fit in well at school, excelling both academically and socially, but between her friends and her schoolwork, she found little time to herself.
Seven-year-old Kurt, a lanky boy sporting glasses and freckles, squirmed in his chair, displeased that George had left his jacket along the back of it the night before. Kurt was smart, and he often played the entire family with his dark brown eyes, as everyone knew that brown-eyed boys had the most potential. Watching for a reaction, Kurt tugged at the back of George’s jacket and sent the entire thing to the floor in a bulky mass.
When George failed to react, Virginia shot up from her seat and picked up the jacket. “Is it that hard to pick up after yourselves?” she scolded as she left the room with the jacket folded over her arm. She noticed something hitting against her from the front outside pocket as she went for the closet, and she dug her hand in to find an unusual business card.
A light dusting of blue glitter came off onto her fingertips as Virginia tried to discern what appeared to be a coded message on one side. Unable to read it, she hung up the jacket and returned to the kitchen.
George had scarfed down his sandwich and was finishing his coffee as Virginia came back. He noticed the sparkling card in her hand. “What’s that?”
“You don’t recognize it?” she asked. “I found it in your jacket pocket.”
George got up, eyeing the card as he passed her. “Probably some kind of promotional or movement act advertisement. Go ahead and toss it.”
She nodded. “Meet you in the shower.”
He hurried down the hall with a smile, closing the bathroom door behind him as he entered, shedding his nightclothes as he waited for the water to heat up. As he entered, he realized that he had set the water hotter than he should have, but then decided that he would wait and cool it off in a minute or two. The hot water felt good against his back. Hot water used a great deal of energy, regardless of whether or not the water recycler was on, and so George turned down the heat before steam could accumulate on the mirror. Virginia always had a comment for him if she saw steam. He washed and rinsed quickly, then waited for Virginia with the water recycler on at full power. After several minutes, he called out, “Virginia, are you coming?”
Virginia finally entered, throwing off her bathrobe and hurrying from the cold, tile bathroom to the lukewarm shower. She turned off the water recycler. “I can’t get this damned glitter off,” she said with great frustration as she motioned for George to vacate the shower.
He took the hint and grabbed his towel, slipping out as she hurried beneath the hot water. He watched from aside as she rinsed and scrubbed her hands, only spreading the glitter up her arms and onto the soap.
“What a mess!” she said.
George dried off and got dressed as Kurt began to knock persistently at the door.
“Shelley hit me!”
“Did not!”
George slid out of the room, slamming the door behind him as the two children stared back. “Can’t you two get along for one morning?”
“But she—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” George yelled. “Both of you, finish getting ready!”
Both showed a look of protest, but neither said another word as they retreated to their rooms. George returned to the bathroom to comb his hair, surprised to find Virginia still scrubbing her glittery, powder blue hands. “You’re going to miss your shuttle,” he said.
She nodded, too preoccupied respond any further.
“I’m walking Kurt to his shuttle station now. I’ll see you tonight.” He blew her a kiss.
She nodded again as he left her to her shower.
Virginia took the Line 210 shuttle every morning, which delivered her right to the doorstep of Communications-Corp. The weather delayed the shuttle over a half hour just before her stop, and yet she still received a demerit for her late arrival to work. The garage was unusually crowded when her shuttle came in. She didn’t have the time to get a closer look, but it seemed as though a group of Mart-level employees was having another demonstration. Security associates were everywhere, and so far, the event looked peaceful. Virginia knew that once the horn blew, matters would get ugly, however, as it was a corporate offense to miss one’s shift intentionally. She hurried to the Communications Building, not wanting to become caught in the crowd.
Virginia worked in residential telephone communications, which was mostly restricted to workers in the Corp Segregate. There were phones in Mart housing districts, but generally they were only used for emergencies because of their cost. Cell phones had long ago been abandoned throughout the region because of constant blackouts from the weather, but landline communications had also suffered a significant blow. The cost of maintenance was substantial, and so it was kept to a minimum. At any given time, lines were down somewhere in the district. As with transportation, communication between even nearby districts was well beyond the scope of most people’s incomes, and thus almost nonexistent.
Virginia made her way to the call room, the building so cold that she opted to keep her jacket tightly wrapped around her and her gloves and hat on. She sat down at her station, trying to get comfortable in her headset. As a call center associate, Virginia had only a switchboard, a policy manual, and an electronic pen and notepad. All complaints she could not handle went to the call center manager, a fat, grumpy old man named Robert who often raised his voice loud enough for the associates to be able to hear him through the wall to his office. Robert didn’t seem to mind dealing with one irate customer after another. In fact, he seemed to thrive on conflict. Virginia could not stand the man.