“I thought I’d jot the following notes down into my diary – you know, just in case my writings become popular and future readers want to know more about my life once I’m long gone – you know, like those really old writers and poets… Milton, William Shakespeare, Ben Elton, Dan Brown; well, you get my drift.
“Well it’s the year commonly known as Zero Plus Ten and the new world order has really got underway. Just in case someone hasn’t picked up, there was a new calendar started ten years ago to replace the previous one (although it was only ten years ago, I think the last one finished about 2038CE or similar – doesn’t matter now). It was a global decision to have a standardised time the world over, mainly because the world now works all day, every day without a break. The fact that a warehouse in America is controlled by computers in Belgium with the operations managers based in France meant that using the international date format started to become irrelevant. Back in the previous years, I seem to recall a watch company coming up with a standard time stamp… well, it’s now a reality. This new era was called Generation Zero because of a stupid throwaway statement by the global president; he said “with robots running our shops, our factories, our industries, mankind is now no longer needed; we are the Generation Zero.” Of course, it isn’t wholly true – mankind is still needed, but mostly to watch the computer screens to confirm a robotic decision or to fix a broken computer – or more commonly to be a part of the growing leisure industry.
“I was lucky – at least I think I am; I decided about fifteen years ago to become what is now known as a “crash-worder”; in oldern times it was a writer of short stories. No-one reads full length stories anymore – just don’t have the attention span, the time or even the intelligence. In fact my job is fast becoming obsolete as the spoken word becomes far more popular than ever – and even brevity is praised on this. I think I saw on my phone that the number one crash-word story has now been far ecplised by it being translated into crash-audio and the author is planning to never write again; just bang another pencil nail into that coffin.
“As I said, I got out – so I have my own accommodation, my own space. It’s a lovely little cottage in the middle of nowhere; I have the upstairs and a couple live below. I think at one time one person had the whole place to themselves… can’t believe it now. Mind you, this isn’t the idyll that many settle for. Most workers now live at their work – cubicles have beds above them so the workers can be available 24/7 and travel is down to zero; perfect for hanging onto your job. Also, the factories and offices are better climate controlled than ever before – with the erosion of the ozone layer the suns rays are more intense, so bio-domes have been created with embedded solar panels in the glass – these power the factories and the aircon units – constant pleasant temperatures. Our cottage is in a “country bio-dome” – so as well as a couple of cottages we share with the hydroponic plants and animals. It’s great – we get a mixture of wet and dry, heat and cold, light and dark. I know for many city folk they just like the one setting – saves on clothes buying – but for me it’s the closest I’ll get to how my family once lived (at least, that’s how I think they lived).
“But although people are much closer to work, and working longer hours (well, there’s no pension any more or public healthcare, so you work – or you die) the global working initiative still insists on the working week being no longer than six and a half days – with each working day being no longer than fifteen hours in length. This means that the time off is spent relaxing far more intensely – and this is the target time for me, selling my short crash-words to those who want to read them. I‘ve had to come into the city to see my publishing editor – normally we do our business over video conferencing, but he wanted to show me the latest box that would translate my story into crash-audio – the ultimate cross-over device (and something that would keep me in business). Because I’m not limited to my working week (I write, I get paid) I can also look round the city – inspiration for the next story. I’d found a favourite haunt of mine, an old public house which was now a caffeine-shop (I remember sitting here and drinking a cold beer; now everyone dashes down the latest energy-buzz drink so they don’t waste their R&R). The décor is still the same, cosy little booths amongst the dark wood and…”
I looked up from my notepad. I saw in the booth opposite a young red-headed lady in obvious distress. A slim-framed worker was looking a little too eager, desperate for something and he was tugging at her arm. She was trying to pull away. I could see that the worker really hadn’t spent any time in the gym or in fitness training – his shirt hung off his skeletal arms and she clearly had more strength than he had.
“You will come now!” said the man, raising his voice. I looked round, everyone else staring hard at the tables in their own booths, not wanting to get involved – if only because they didn’t want to waste their spare time – but also because there was no police force in operation these days and we were reliant on the army (trained to shoot and kill) to police the streets. It was like letting a fox look after the chicken shed, as my great grandmother was fond of saying.
I couldn’t let this continue. I had nothing better to do – and a sense of chivalry kicked in. So I stood up and walked over.
“Let her go, man” I said “or just talk – I’m sure you don’t have time to waste these days.”
The girl looked up at me, her face frozen with the last of her words hanging in the air. She blinked. The man let go and spun round.
“Frag off – nuthin for you here to bother with – unless you want to cause something?”
I was stunned at this guy’s attitude. Even if I say so myself, I keep myself pretty fit – brain works better when the blood flows round it freely; so I used martial arts to keep my mind firing quickly.
“Just ease back – don’t want to cause trouble; but that lady doesn’t want what you’re offering.”
“I pay her, she does what I want. I mean, where you from? Pre-Zero?”
I looked across at the red-head and she looked down. Ah, I thought, she’s in the leisure industry too – I guess we all get our money from somewhere. Change of tact, I thought.
“I’m sure what you’re asking for is more than she’s prepared to offer – or are you being cheap?”
“Told you – frag off. What I want from her is none of your business.”
OK, that’s it. This guy is really bugging me. I wanted a quiet drink, but this guy thinks that because he works in an office he can determine everyone’s time off. Enough.
“Look, I just want a quiet place to think and you’re starting to ruin that. Can you please just let it – and her – go….”
I hadn’t seen the two big guys in the corner. She had – and her eyes flashed upon them. The first hooked my arm and spun me round – the second laid into my stomach. It didn’t feel like a punch – it felt deeper. My stomach felt warm, wet – and I felt the strength leave my body. I didn’t see any more.
Rachel:
I’d not seen this client before. I really didn’t like what he was offering, or what he was offering to pay me for it either. Brian, my manager, had said that we could argue some control, but ultimately we had to go along with whatever was asked for – or it would cost him (Brian) money, clearing up after his “security team”. His “security team” went everywhere with us girls – I think to make sure that we followed Brian’s instructions, but also because I think they enjoyed sorting out these problems.
So this client’s asking – I’m saying no – then this stranger comes up. This has never happened before – I’ve never been thought of as anything other than what I am. And here he is, this dashing stranger. Of course, the “security team” are on it. I’m on my own again, with Brian “looking after” me. Waiting for the next white knight. I saw his book on the desk opposite – perhaps in my time off I could try crash-words, or even crash-audio, sounds fun.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, the security team also made the client “go away” too. As they used to say, pre-Zero, there’s never any Police around.
