World-Mart
World-Mart
World-Mart
A Cerebral Books
Original Publication
Leigh M. Lane
Cerebral Books
Missoula, MT
All rights reserved. With the exception of short excerpts used for critical analysis or literary review, no part of this text may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.
All characters portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities with known persons or corporate entities, real or imagined, are purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 Leigh M. Lane
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0615555748
ISBN-13: 978-0615555744
For Diana.
Special thanks to Tommy, Kate, Dave, Dana, Heather, Erin, Shirlee, and Kathy.
GEORGE IRWIN sat at his cubicle, shuffling through pages of paperwork, cross-referencing the various pieces of information that his research associates had previously uncovered and filed. His tiny cubicle was identical to the hundreds of other cubicles strategically placed throughout the large, cold room, but subtly personalized with a framed picture of his wife and two kids. He drank tepid water from a coffee cup that boasted “#1 Dad” along each side. Both were Corporate-issued, varying from those of George’s neighbors only by the pictures they contained and the “#1” slogan listed on their cups.
The building had no windows, as Law-Corp’s top managers had determined that windows only wasted resources and allowed for distraction. George was a research manager, which entailed collecting, checking, and re-filing all of the paperwork filed by his research associates. Despite being born to two Mart parents, and mainly due to his score of 550 on the Corporate Intelligence Quantifier Test, George had been fortunate enough to have been placed in the Corp Segregate. Although he could never aspire for anything higher than lower management, George had risen higher in status than most simple Mart employees could ever hope for. He was able to provide for his family in ways his parents never could have, and that alone was enough to keep him complacent, despite the stress and monotony. George was proud to be a research manager for Law-Corp #01025, and he worked hard to ensure his job security at the firm.
Despite being in his early forties, George was in good shape and still held a youthful appearance. He and his wife, a smart and lovely woman who also worked in the Corp Segregate, had married young. A few years George’s junior, Virginia worked as a call center associate for Communications-Corp #12668. They had two children: fifteen-year-old Shelley and seven-year-old Kurt, both of whom were enrolled in the Corp Education System. Much of George and Virginia’s income went toward keeping their children in the system, but their superior education would ensure lower to middle management Corp jobs for both of them.
George glanced through the electronic file of a doctor charged with prescribing and selling antibiotics. The research associates who put the case together had been thorough. The evidence against the doctor was overwhelming, and one particular patient the doctor attempted to treat had strep throat. Of course, when top managers confirmed that the patient was indeed infected with strep, Police-Corp and Medical-Corp worked together to euthanize the man as quickly and humanely as possible.
Antibiotics had been outlawed nearly twenty years ago, after scientists had determined that their use was no longer effective against most life-threatening disease-causing bacteria. Even worse, antibiotics affected certain bacteria’s evolutionary development, causing even some of the most benign of infections eventually to become untreatable and deadly. Antibiotic-immune strep, staph, and tuberculosis had became epidemic, and together the three had killed ten percent of the human population before Medical-Corp finally intervened. Its top managers ordered the construction of quarantine camps, where hundreds of thousands of people eventually were corralled, killed, and cremated. All suspected cases of serious infectious diseases were now referred to a special committee within Medical-Corp. All whom they deemed infectious were removed for the greater good of society.
George looked through the different studies that had been attached to the case. Everything looked straightforward, except for the doctor’s personal notes. Page after page, almost all of the doctor’s words were blacked out, all pertaining to an apparent case study he was conducting. The only reason the research associate had left in the scanned files was that every few pages had untouched text in which the doctor mentioned his prescribing illegal antibiotics. George agreed to keep the otherwise useless pages in the file, deciding that the prosecution managers would likely find some use for them.
He read the pages of receipts, recorded telephone conversations, and photocopies of the doctor’s appointment logs. Everything appeared to be in order. Police-Corp already had a confession from the man, and therefore a guilty verdict from Law-Corp’s high management was already imminent. Still, it was George’s job to suggest formally that the doctor be charged and his file be sent to Sentencing. He entered the computer database in front of him, scanning the doctor’s charge sheet and bringing it to the monitor.
Two virtual buttons bearing the words “Guilty” and “Not Guilty” appeared on the bottom right corner of the screen under the word “Recommendation.” George tapped the “Guilty” button, prompting a new screen to appear with a series of questions for which George had the option to agree or disagree with associates’ previous responses:
Did the Defendant confess to his/her crime(s)?
(Research associate #00335-921 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.
Does the file work indicate that the Defendant showed remorse for said crime(s)?
(Research associate #01002-486 said “No.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.
Does the file work indicate that the Defendant could have made a profit by committing said crime(s)?
(Research associate #00335-921 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.
Has the Defendant ever been convicted of any previous crimes?
(Research associate #00257-851 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.
Does the Defendant have anything to say in his/her defense, for having committed said crime(s)?
(Research associate #01014-002 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.
George used another application to search for his answers. He went through each relevant section of file work, double-checking himself before punching in the same answers as given by the other research associates.
The computer then prompted, “State Defendant’s argument (limit 140 characters),” and George navigated through the file. He found the transcripts from the doctor’s police interview. He frowned as he found the lines in which the doctor said he could explain himself, but the explanation was blacked out. He studied the few words that remained between the thick swatches of black ink, trying to see if even a gist of the man’s argument remained. Knowing that files were blacked out when a suspect’s text referred to illegal or misleading concepts, he knew nothing else could be done but type, “Defendant’s argument invalid.”
The computer asked him if he was sure, and George tapped a round button with a “Yes” stretched across it.
The printer spat out a few sheets of new paperwork. It was an old, loud, outdated machine, and the paper it used was thick and pulpy, like most paper these days, recycled countless times through hand-powered paper recycling machines, only to be recycled again once another case officially closed. It was an archaic practice, one that few agencies still employed, but the pages gave the final review files a sense of credibility that only tradition could produce. George looked the over pages, and then stapled them together and stamped his personal seal in red ink, in a box printed on the front page. He signed on a line within the seal, added it to the top of the file, and then slid the file into a narrow, locked bin at the side of his cubicle.
Bells chimed through a loud speaker.
“Your work day is now over,” a soothing, cheerful female voice announced. “Corporate appreciates your productivity. Thank you for working at Law-Corp.”
George shut down his computer and locked his file cabinet. He would get a new stack of files in the morning, but those he had not finished today would be under lock and key until tomorrow, when they found their way to the top of his pile. George sat as the maze of thin hallways set by the cubicles became flooded with tired workers. Slowly, the people filed out.
George grabbed his lunch pail and found his way through the long room, to the stairwell that was still backed up with the flood of people filing down to the shuttle garage. George shuffled along the end of the line, moving down the stairs as a few other stragglers came in behind him. He moved in line down a staircase, until he made his way to an underground garage. He took a seat on a bench in front of the Line 150 shuttle track, wondering if it was going to be late again. The shuttles always seemed to break down when the rain was heavy, and it had been raining especially heavy.
