Pink Slip Prophet (2 page)

Ian took a deep breath to speak and reached for his shoulder mic. He stopped and rolled his eyes.
If you want something done - at all these days - you’ve got to do it yourself
. He brought up the routing interface, scrolled through until he found xa42 and ordered it immediately re-routed to his station for continued duty.

The system would compensate. It would send some other train back. It would clear the tracks for xa42. That was the whole point of the automated system: so they could fire a bunch of guys and the rest of us could just tell the computer what it had to do. And it would do it.

Ian hit return and the system demanded his access code again. Ian frowned. He entered it, hit return and the access code request flickered back again.
Shit. I need Larry’s code.
Ian rolled his eyes.
How they promoted him over me. That slick son of a gun.
Ian chuckled.

Ian stood up and looked around the largely empty control center. He opened empty cabinets and jerked out stuck drawers. Nothing. They were paperless now.
Is this really progress? Wasn’t it the invention of writing that gave us a great leap forward?
And now, suddenly, no more writing allowed.

Wait a second.
Ian strode over to the computer, hunched down and ran his hand under the keyboard tray. A small piece of paper was stuck there. He gently pulled it off, stood up and dusted off his pants.

It was blank.
Damnit. Wait.
Ian flipped it over and held it up to the light. In a light pencil, it said “CandyUrMine2034.” Ian’s breath stopped and the world around him disappeared.
No. No, that’s not right.
That could mean anything, or anyone. Ian moved slowly back to the computer and sat down. His eyes unfocused into eternity.
My Candy?
He shook his head.
Ridiculous
. Ian carefully typed the letters into the access code box. His hand hovered over the execute button.
Really? That’s your password?

***

“Is the baby alright?” Ian stood underneath the Allegheny El station, out in the darkened street under the tracks. He rested his hand against the cool, dented back door of the ambulance and looked expectantly at the paramedic.

The man, dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit with a peeling yellow star over his heart, spoke a final jumble of medical words into his device, rolled it up and stuck it in his back pocket. He checked the back door of the ambulance and headed for the driver’s seat.

Ian followed. “Sir, the baby? Is she going to—”

The man turned, his hand to his forehead, eyes closed. “Uh, right, yeah, just some dehydration, malnutrition, nothing serious.”

Ian nodded. Internally, he smiled.
I saved a baby today.

The paramedic turned, got into the ambulance and gently pulled the door shut until the catch clicked. “Engine start. Hospital selection. Infant. Dehydration. Low priority.”

Ian walked to the door and looked at the medic through the lowered window. “What about the mother? Is she on something?”

The paramedic studied his dashboard and mumbled, “Approved.” The ambulance shifted into gear and it bounced slightly against its wheels. He turned to Ian with a look of withering condescension on his face. “A word of advice: don’t try to save any more lives, not in this world. Not these people. Too many of them anyway.” He shook his head. The ambulance took off at a gentle roll and merged into traffic, its sirens blaring.

***

“These delusions of grandeur have to stop.” Larry sat behind his desk in a tiny, gray office adjacent to the control center, his face a caricature of genuine concern. “The one I really worry about is Candy.” He laid one hand on his bowling ball belly and slid deeper into the wooden chair, his legs splayed wide. It creaked its complaint. The other hand landed on the side of his head and scratched at the fuzzy pelt that covered the sides and back quite abundantly. The top of his head, however, was completely bald.

Ian stood across from him on the other side of Larry’s desk. There was nowhere for him to sit. The walls were bare. There were no filing cabinets. Only the desk and single chair remained. “What do you mean, that you worry about Candy?”

Larry sat up straight and cleared his throat. He shrugged one shoulder and frowned. “You have a family to support, Ian, that’s all. Candy has become accustomed to a certain standard of living, and, well…”

Ian laughed internally.
Still after Candy, huh? She could never see anything in this louse. Or could she? She’s been unhappy. But unfaithful?
Ian put the thought out of his mind.

“Now, look, Ian, we’re old— Wait, are you done for the day?” Larry asked.

Ian nodded. “You made the schedule. Boss.”

Larry shot him an angry glare. He stood up and tucked his dress shirt into his loose-fitting pants. He took a deep breath, his gut expanded and he let it out again in one giant blast. “You’ve got all your stuff, right?”

Ian tilted his eyebrows up. “And?”

Larry looked straight at him and frowned. “I have to let you go, buddy. Orders from the top.” A nervous smile crossed his face before he suppressed it. He sat back down and put his feet up on the desk.

Ian stared at him.
That’s not right.
“I saved a baby this morning. I saved the city from—”

“You re-routed a train, thus causing mayhem in the city network. You hacked the system—”

Ian guffawed. “I didn’t hack anything. I just used your access code. Which, by the way, is a little creepy. And not very secure.”

Larry cleared his throat and looked away. “In any case, you’re fired. Sorry. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hell, you should be my boss. My boss’s boss! You’re the most competent guy in this organization. But I guess that no longer matters, with the automation and all.”

“I saved a baby’s life today. How can you fire me for that?” Ian paused and tried to reason it through.
I save baby, they fire me. There is no logical connection here.

“The truth is, they were going to let you go anyway!” Larry stood up and pushed his chair in. “The automation plan—”

“The union said they would still keep both of us here,” Ian said.

Larry ignored him. “The automation plan is complete. They only need a skeleton crew at Base. Everything else will be automated.”

“I’m thirty-nine, Larry. What am I going to do?”

Larry jerked his neck to the right. “Y’ello.” He said with a suppressed smile and an authoritative but casual tone. He listened. “Right now? It would be my pleasure.” He laughed mischievously and jerked his neck to the left. “Anyway, Ian, that’s it. They’ll dock you for the costs associated with those delays you caused but I talked them out of pressing charges.”

“Charges? For what?” Ian asked.

Larry shook his head and headed for the door. He stopped next to Ian. “You’re an old-fashioned kind of guy. Not an order-taker but a man with principles. I like that about you!” He slapped Ian on the back and walked out the door.

Ian stood in the empty room listening to the screeches of the trains against the rails.
Trains, engineering, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for twenty years, ever since Candy got pregnant.
“What do I do now?” he whispered to himself.

***

Ian stepped into his apartment and closed the flimsy front door behind him. Drug Control had broken it down so many times now, there was no point in replacing it. It would only be money wasted. And now he didn’t even have the option. They’d need every cent they had to weather this.

They might even have to move out. Where would they go?

He plodded in and fell into his ratty but beloved, garishly-checkered couch. A spring coil poked into his thigh and he adjusted himself. “Real News,” he said.

Candy trotted into the living room in a bright purple leotard, her legs kicking behind her. “Pause,” she said, and took off her deep green augmented reality glasses. “You’re home early, and watching the news?” She scowled at him. “I haven’t seen in you front of the screen in years!” She turned and yelled down the hallway that led to two bathrooms and three bedrooms. “Stacy, come on! Your dad is looking at a screen!” She laughed.

“Volume up five,” Ian said.
No respect at work. At home, they laugh at me. I need to be tougher with these people.

Stacy bounded into the living room in her underwear. She looked over the top of her AR glasses and giggled. “Daddy! What are you— Hey, I am going to need the TV soon, you know.”

Ian looked at her, his mouth a thin line. “Could you put some clothes on, young lady? It’s one thing to traipse around half-naked when you’re six, but at your age?”

“But, Daddy,” Stacy said, “I am—” She pushed her glasses down. “Oops! I’m dressed in Funation!” She rolled her eyes. “I am such a wooly!” She sauntered energetically back to her room and closed the door while babbling to a girlfriend.

Ian turned back to the news. The President was offering up a soundbite on a group of college kids who, while playing a hacked AR game, threw themselves in front of an Amtrak bullet train. The lone survivor, who lost both legs and an arm, thought they were jumping into a Hollywood jacuzzi.

It was incomprehensible to him. One world was hard enough to keep straight. He didn’t need two or three. Just one, ordered world with strong families, good jobs and some grandkids down the line.

Candy cleared her throat. “What are you doing here this early? You know this causes an inconvenience for me.” She crossed her arms. “It’s not fair.”

Ian laughed and spread his arms out to cover the entire couch. “Me relaxing in my home is a problem for you?” He laughed and shook his head.

“Larry Kunkle,” the screen said, “is just a common stationmaster at the Philadelphia El. But today, he became a hero.”

Ian stared at the screen incredulous.

“Oh, is this what Larry was talking about?” Candy sat down on the edge of the couch and pushed Ian to the opposite side. That spring scraped his leg again.

A young Asian woman appeared on screen with Ian’s station in the background. Former station.

“It was right here, just this morning, when a young woman lost her baby on the El, that stationmaster Larry Kunkle came to the rescue. Kunkle acted quickly to reroute the trains and save the newborn baby’s life. And our hero is with us right now.”

The camera panned and there was Larry Kunkle. Ian’s mouth hung open.
Did I dream that I did that? Was I on AR? Drugs?
Ian remembered back to the purple blanket, the kicking baby legs, the strung-out mother.
I was there. That was me. I ordered the train back. I pulled the baby off of it. And I got fired for it.

“Look at that, good old Larry. What a guy he is! Stacy! It’s your uncle Larry on TV! He’s a hero!”

“Larry is not her uncle,” Ian said.
No relation at all.

“You’re just jealous,” Candy said with a dismissive wave.

On screen, the reporter turned to an unusually bright and smiling Larry. “It was easy,” he said. “It was nothing. Well, it took some doing, I’ll tell you that.”

“How did you save Baby Daphne, Larry? Tell our viewers what happened,” the reporter said.

Larry’s face blanked with panic and a sly smile crept onto Ian’s face.
The bastard liar hasn’t even prepared a good story.

Larry’s face flashed serious. “Oh, it was very challenging. I had to find the right train. It was an impossible task, but thankfully the new automated systems made it possible to bring the baby’s train back to the station, relatively quickly, you know, after I, of course, did the hard work, by myself.” He cleared his throat and the big-eyed look of panic returned.

“Screen off,” Ian said. He stood up and turned left to the square, undersized picture window that dominated their living room. Gray clouds hung over the drab, cement block buildings that sat perpendicular to his. It roiled his stomach. It was a disgusting, dog-eat-dog world where anyone could swipe even the heart right out of your chest if you didn’t keep a close watch.

***

The front door creaked open. “Anybody home?” asked a voice.

Ian drew a deep breath. He was in his bed, his eyes still shut. A cool breeze came through the window. He felt fresh, rested. He reveled in the smoothness of the sheets.
After that day, I needed a good night’s—
Ian sat up in bed and checked his watch. 8:53 PM.

Damnit.
Ian threw himself out of bed and headed into the hallway.
How did that happen? Unemployed just a few hours and already I’m sleeping during the day. What’s next? Drugs? Funation? And here I am trying to set a good example for Michael.

“Hey buddy!”

Ian stopped short just outside of the bedroom he nominally shared with Candy and looked up.
Unbelievable.

“Did you see me on the news, buddy?” Larry leered at him with those fake, polar-white teeth. He flipped his lucky silver coin. It tinged, floated up, then landed back in his hand and he shoved it in his pocket. Candy and Stacy stood behind him with expectant smiles.

Ian stared at him, unable to move. Larry had pulled some questionable moves in the past, but nothing like this. This was unprecedented.

Candy trotted up beside Larry and ran her arm along his. “Larry,” she said in a sultry voice, “can I get you something?” She tilted her head to one side and smiled up at him.

Larry turned his head to her without taking his eyes off of Ian. “Champagne. Ian keep any around, by chance?”

“Ian? Champagne? Old Tightwad himself?” She laughed. “Never!” She turned to Stacy. “Call the store for some champagne. Have them send it ASAP.”

“You bet, anything for the hero Uncle Larry,” said Stacy. She traipsed off, half-dressed, to the kitchen to place the order.

Ian ground his teeth. He took a step towards Larry and jammed his index finger into the air in front of the fake’s face. “I didn’t know that you had that much dishonesty in you, Larry. I knew you were dishonest, but to take credit for what I did—”

Larry whirled around, put his arm around Candy and guided her towards the kitchen. Her robe opened slightly at the chest and he snuck a look.

Ian followed him into the living room. Jack sat hunched-over on the couch, looking at a mobile screen. Ian looked at Larry.
Jack looks so lonely over there.
Ian turned, walked over and sat next to Jack.