Status: In progress...
The Used
Chapter 2
I took a hoverchute to the eighth floor of the building, reveling once again in the invisible force that propelled me upwards. The carpet outside the executive offices was a good three inches deep and was dark crimson, like the color of blood.
Jackson’s office was the fourth door on the right and, like most doors in high-security buildings, had no doorknob. No Used could ever gain entrance here because an access chip was necessary for scanning. And only News were issued chips. Perfect security. Clenching my teeth in irritation, I held out my access chip and opened my eyes wide.
Bright blue light flashed in front of me, confirming through the shape of my retinas that I was who my chip said I was. The next instant, a high mechanical voice began reciting my information.
“Name, James Holland. Born on 12:01 a.m. on September 2nd, 3056. Age, twenty-nine years, three hundred and sixty-four days, seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. Remaining usefulness, six hours and forty-seven minutes. Access granted.”
I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as the door to Mr. Jackson’s office slid open from the top. Peering into the gloom, I stepped inside.
“James! Good to see you!”
“Mr. Jackson,” I replied, faking a small smile, “What a pleasure.”
I moved across the room to sit in front of Jackson’s desk, a huge mahogany piece of furniture that must have been a priceless antique from the 2000s. There were no windows in the office, just one light fixture attached to the point in the exact center of the ceiling. The dim light gleamed over a gold-plated block on the front of the desk: Evan Jackson, Chief Technological Officer, Selecor Incorporated. Jackson himself was seated behind the desk, his hair slicked back unpleasantly as he rifled through pages of files on his desktop computer.
“So, James,” He still wouldn’t look at me, hands whizzing across the computer’s touch screen, “I’m sorry to hear that your time with us is up. You were always such a useful asset to Selecor, always filled your quota.”
Useful. The Central Order’s favorite word.
“I’m sorry to have to cut to the chase like this, but I’m extremely busy. May I have your company card, please? We’re required to confiscate it.”
Silently, I took the card out of my pocket and handed it to him. He had to stand up in order to reach it across his enormous desk. He was only fifteen, after all. The ideal age for a New executive officer. Quick witted and sly, never taking no for an answer. Jackson took the card in his hand and smiled at me with pointed teeth.
“Thank you, James. You are dismissed from Selecor Inc. Your input to our company was greatly appreciated.” he smirked a bit, as if to drive home the fact that I was doomed to spend the rest of my life as a Used while he had so many opportunities left, and turned back to his computer.
Anger filled my body as I gazed at Jackson. I had been with this company since I was eight years old. Why should he have any more rights then I? I decided to speak up. “Excuse me,” I said loudly. Jackson looked up at me with his eyebrows raised, “Back in the 2000s and earlier there was a concept of “seniority”, where older citizens were respected and placed before the youth. Were you aware of that?”
Jackson narrowed his eyes, “Are you challenging the Central Order, James?”
“To hell with the Central Order!” I yelled, surprising myself, “You’re going to end up just like me someday. Another fifteen years and you’ll be in this very seat, twiddling your thumbs while a new, younger officer expects you to just pack up and go about your business! “ I glared ferociously at him, “And if you think your ‘Operation Genesis’ will fix that for you then you’re insane. It’s madness! Tell me how I’m inferior to you, to the rest of the Young Generation!”
The silence in the room seemed to buzz as we stared at each other. Jackson’s eyes were wide and frightened.
“I think you had better leave,” he whispered.
Breathing heavily, I threw my files down on the desk and stalked out of the room, breaking into a run as I entered the hallway. The automatic doors flew open in front of me as I sprinted out of Selecor Inc. and down the moving sidewalk, which whisked me along three times as fast as I could have move on my own. As I neared my apartment, I finally slowed and stopped, gasping for air as my tears fell into the cold night. I cried for the injustice that I had only began to see, the oppression of the Used, the Old Generation. I sobbed as the walkway pushed me onward, guiding me home. One more night.
Jackson’s office was the fourth door on the right and, like most doors in high-security buildings, had no doorknob. No Used could ever gain entrance here because an access chip was necessary for scanning. And only News were issued chips. Perfect security. Clenching my teeth in irritation, I held out my access chip and opened my eyes wide.
Bright blue light flashed in front of me, confirming through the shape of my retinas that I was who my chip said I was. The next instant, a high mechanical voice began reciting my information.
“Name, James Holland. Born on 12:01 a.m. on September 2nd, 3056. Age, twenty-nine years, three hundred and sixty-four days, seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. Remaining usefulness, six hours and forty-seven minutes. Access granted.”
I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as the door to Mr. Jackson’s office slid open from the top. Peering into the gloom, I stepped inside.
“James! Good to see you!”
“Mr. Jackson,” I replied, faking a small smile, “What a pleasure.”
I moved across the room to sit in front of Jackson’s desk, a huge mahogany piece of furniture that must have been a priceless antique from the 2000s. There were no windows in the office, just one light fixture attached to the point in the exact center of the ceiling. The dim light gleamed over a gold-plated block on the front of the desk: Evan Jackson, Chief Technological Officer, Selecor Incorporated. Jackson himself was seated behind the desk, his hair slicked back unpleasantly as he rifled through pages of files on his desktop computer.
“So, James,” He still wouldn’t look at me, hands whizzing across the computer’s touch screen, “I’m sorry to hear that your time with us is up. You were always such a useful asset to Selecor, always filled your quota.”
Useful. The Central Order’s favorite word.
“I’m sorry to have to cut to the chase like this, but I’m extremely busy. May I have your company card, please? We’re required to confiscate it.”
Silently, I took the card out of my pocket and handed it to him. He had to stand up in order to reach it across his enormous desk. He was only fifteen, after all. The ideal age for a New executive officer. Quick witted and sly, never taking no for an answer. Jackson took the card in his hand and smiled at me with pointed teeth.
“Thank you, James. You are dismissed from Selecor Inc. Your input to our company was greatly appreciated.” he smirked a bit, as if to drive home the fact that I was doomed to spend the rest of my life as a Used while he had so many opportunities left, and turned back to his computer.
Anger filled my body as I gazed at Jackson. I had been with this company since I was eight years old. Why should he have any more rights then I? I decided to speak up. “Excuse me,” I said loudly. Jackson looked up at me with his eyebrows raised, “Back in the 2000s and earlier there was a concept of “seniority”, where older citizens were respected and placed before the youth. Were you aware of that?”
Jackson narrowed his eyes, “Are you challenging the Central Order, James?”
“To hell with the Central Order!” I yelled, surprising myself, “You’re going to end up just like me someday. Another fifteen years and you’ll be in this very seat, twiddling your thumbs while a new, younger officer expects you to just pack up and go about your business! “ I glared ferociously at him, “And if you think your ‘Operation Genesis’ will fix that for you then you’re insane. It’s madness! Tell me how I’m inferior to you, to the rest of the Young Generation!”
The silence in the room seemed to buzz as we stared at each other. Jackson’s eyes were wide and frightened.
“I think you had better leave,” he whispered.
Breathing heavily, I threw my files down on the desk and stalked out of the room, breaking into a run as I entered the hallway. The automatic doors flew open in front of me as I sprinted out of Selecor Inc. and down the moving sidewalk, which whisked me along three times as fast as I could have move on my own. As I neared my apartment, I finally slowed and stopped, gasping for air as my tears fell into the cold night. I cried for the injustice that I had only began to see, the oppression of the Used, the Old Generation. I sobbed as the walkway pushed me onward, guiding me home. One more night.