Well, at least they didn’t charge me for the soap.
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
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.
It was either the massage or the promise of injection, but I somehow managed to get up and stagger towards the closest niche.
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.
“I can’t do my job,” I complained to the ceiling in frustration.
