Microstory 2104: People Are Animals

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My job is going well so far, but I’ve only been doing it for one day, so we’ll just have to see. This place is open 24/7, which equates to a crew of five janitors. Each of us works six hours straight with no breaks, except to use the restroom. When one leaves for the day, the next one comes in. A fifth person sleeps on location, and can fill in if someone is sick. We don’t get paid to take time off, though we can if we need to, but we have to coordinate with each other, and the fifth guy will substitute during that time too. In the meantime, he gets paid for the entire day, whether he has anything to do or not. He’s the one who trained me, because he’s been there forever. The job is simple and tedious. You start at the top floor, and work your way down. Different janitors have different methods to get the work done. Some use the carpet sweeper all the way through, and then go back up to mob the bathrooms, and other tile areas, and then go back up again to collect the trash. Others prefer to focus on one floor, and complete all of the necessary work at once before moving on to the next one. They may not do it the same way every time, and our employer doesn’t care. They want it to be as clean as possible as much as possible. The work that the regular workers do here requires concentration, which means that they require us to be quiet and out of the way, which is why we don’t use vacuum cleaners. Fortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of collaboration, at least not in person, so we’re not constantly tripping over the staff, making it easier to stay invisible.

For one hour at 11:00, they are all having lunch together upstairs. We are not allowed to go upstairs. I’ve not even seen their cafeteria yet, because we’re expected to eat on our own time, but the other janitors have caught glimpses of it over the years, so they know that that’s where everyone is going. Apparently, a sixth person handles that entire area alone, and isn’t part of my team. I suspect that, in addition to eating, they’re having some kind of building-wide meeting. I still don’t really know what exactly they do there, but it must be pretty sensitive stuff. They lock everything up in their special desks, even when they’re only leaving for the restroom. I’ve yet to see a single piece of paper that isn’t still blank. The regular workers are usually really focused on their work, and don’t pay me any mind, not in a sort of disrespectful don’t fraternize with the help sort of way, but more like they’re trying to stay out of my way just as much. I think they’re aware that I’m on a schedule of my own, and they appreciate not having to worry about the mess. And when I say mess, I don’t mean that these people are animals. Honestly, I don’t think we need to clean up as often as we do. They don’t eat at their desks, or do anything else that would make my job harder. I barely have to empty the carpet sweeper, but that’s what’s in the job description, so I’m going to keep doing it until they ask me to do something else. I was under the impression that I was going to get a lot dirtier, but the really gross places, like the boiler room, are handled by a different team too. All in all, I think I’m going to be okay here. I know what I’m supposed to do, and how I’m supposed to do it. They even let us listen to headphones at a low enough volume to hear the environment. I don’t really report to a boss. My coworkers are treating me as one more person in the collective. The woman I’m replacing worked here for 48 years before she retired with six-figure savings. I’ve never dreamed of having that much money. I’ll let you know if anything changes, but I think I’m just going to stick around for now.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 29, 2399

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They’re on the moon now. It isn’t their first time, and it won’t likely be the last. Now they can finally rest, and maybe rest easy. Or perhaps not. All this time, no one has even attempted to communicate with them, but suddenly they are. It should be difficult—if not impossible—to deliver a signal here. They’re on the far side of the moon, which always faces away from Earth. In order to send a message, you need some kind of relay point. They’ve not been able to detect one, but it must be around here somewhere.

“Mangrove Zero, this is Mangrove One actual, please respond.”

“M-1, this is Zero actual. Go ahead.”

“Could I please speak with Mateo...alone?”

“Not possible, M-1,” Leona replies. “You can speak with me. I’m the captain now.”

“I’m not speaking as M-1 actual. I’m here as a person. I need to speak with Mateo. It’s urgent, and it’s personal.”

Mateo could hear the transmission from the hallway. He steps onto the bridge. “Make this happen. We need to talk privately, not just because she asked for it, but because it’s necessary. All will be explained, but for now, there are things that you just can’t know at this point in the timeline.”

Leona considers her options. “Go to auxiliary control. I’ll transfer the call.”

“I mean it. You can’t listen in.”

“I understand. I’ll respect your privacy,” Leona promises. She goes back to the microphone. “Aldona, give us two minutes to transfer. I will no longer be listening. Captain Matic out.”

Hopefully she’s being honest, and won’t make an executive decision to eavesdrop. Mateo heads downstairs. It is not a small rocket, but there are few rooms. The body is mostly taken up by the cargo and weapons bays. The bridge is big enough for five people. The aux room was apparently designed for two, but it’s a tight fit for Mateo alone. He squeezes in. Aldona is already trying to reach out again. He can hear her from the headphones hanging on the magnet. Mateo grabs them, and puts them on. “Uh, yeah. I’m here now, but if you said anything before, I missed it.”

“I didn’t say anything. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“What is it going to take for you to believe that we’re honest people, and that your nephew is safe? I didn’t tell anyone about him, and I won’t.”

“What you can do is not have stolen my ship.”

“You should have agreed to help us find Alyssa.”

“That’s what your wife said.”

“You have literally a thousand ships. No one said we had to use this one.”

“There are other reasons to not authorize you scanning the entire planet.”

“We’re not going to invade people’s privacy. This is only to find other people who have experienced time weird. We purge all other data. We don’t care about that stuff. There are three of us now. It’s not some giant conspiracy to control everyone’s mind.”

“I’m not going to debate this with you. You three will do whatever it is you want to do, and clearly no one can stop you. I learned that about you on Lorania. It’s just been so long, I thought maybe you had grown up.”

“I don’t know how many enemies you have had, but we have fought against entire intergalactic civilizations. We don’t ask permission anymore. W’eve learned that no one has the right to grant it. No one is responsible for anything.”

“Sounds like chaos. Anarchy.”

“I’m sure you know more about the parallels, what with this mysterious future war between realities that everyone’s worried about. I don’t really understand why we’re talking about anything happening in the future, though. If it’s between realities, why aren’t there battles happening right now, or even in the past?”

“Just because they’re called the Reality Wars doesn’t mean they’re being fought between realities,” Aldona says cryptically. “You’ll see in a few months.”

“A few months?”

“How is Cedar?” she asks.

“You mean you haven’t spoken to him since we came aboard?”

“I can’t, or you would have detected the transmission. Well, Leona or Ramses would have anyway.”

“The best way I knew how to protect him was to stay away from the safe room completely. We haven’t talked either. I assumed that you built in some secret special radio transmitter, or whatever.”

“I did not.”

He waits to say anything. “Can we build one now?”

“You would do that for me?”

“For the last time, yes! Tell me what to do, I’ll do it. If I need help from Leona or Ramses, I’ll keep Cedar out of it, and just say that it’s something that I need for myself.”

It turned out, Mateo didn’t need anyone’s help at all. She was able to upload a subroutine to a portable drive, which Mateo took to the safe room, and plugged into the communications port there. Did Aldona secretly upload a virus that will force the rocket back to Earth, or encase the safe room in a protective barrier, and blow the rest of them to smithereens? Yeah, maybe, but hopefully not. And if he wants to show Aldona that he can be trusted, he has to trust her first.

Cedar was grateful for the company. He’s sick of being alone, but being able to talk to his aunt from here should help. At some point, this will no longer be necessary. Everyone will have everything they need. They are not enemies, and they do not have to be at odds with each other. Be it the war, Constance!Five, or some new threat; something will make all these people realize that the safest place to be is on Team Matic.

Mateo returns to the bridge when it’s all done. “How’s it going?”

“We should ask you that,” Ramses says.

“I can’t talk about it,” Mateo replies.

“Does it have something to do with that secret room in reclamation?” Leona asks.

Mateo frowns, but doesn’t know what to say.

Leona looks at him knowingly. She reaches over to the touch screen, and swipes her hand across it. “All footage deleted. I didn’t see anything. Did you, Ramses?”

“I only saw two things: jack and shit.”

Mateo still doesn’t know what to say. Any word could be the one that ruins everything. So he just leaves it at that, and starts to leave.

“Were I you,” Leona begins, “I would trust me.”

“Were I you,” Mateo begins to echo, “I would trust me.”

Microstory 740: Credos, Convention Eleven: Collegiality

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When the wandering child lifted his leg from the tenth canister, he looked upon the next two. They could hardly be called canisters. Sure, they had some depth, but they were long and shallow. He looked upon himself and realized he had not quite run out of body parts. He still had his back, and his stomach. “This is an unusual quest,” he said to himself. “How many other quests have you been on?” the fish woman asked him from the aether, even though the magic communication cup was not filled with water. She had a good point, though, so he continued with his task by opening the eleventh canister. He recognized the young man of this story, for his story had already been told. He was the same man from the lesson about cordiality. He had had trouble finding a job, because he did not want to engage in dull conversations with the interviewers. He ended up having to learn to fake his way through it, and succeeded. He was now part of a team, but was still struggling. All he would do is sit at his desk, with his headphones on, and complete the work that was assigned to him. He would go to the meetings he was scheduled for, and listen to the presenters with respect, but never engage with his colleagues. Then it was the time of the year when the sections heads had to make personnel decisions. Some were going to lose their jobs, and others were going to receive promotions. The awkward man’s manager pulled him into her office to have a chat. This was it, he knew he would be let go, and have to find a whole new job.

“We are not letting you go,” his manager said, much to the awkward man’s relief. “But we are also not promoting you.” It wasn’t the worst news in the world, but it also wasn’t the best. His productivity was higher than anyone else’s. By anyone’s measure, he was the best worker in the department. That promotion should be his. “It’s not that you are not productive,” his manager said, as if reading his mind. “You are a very hard worker, and you make few mistakes, but that is not all it takes to be part of the team.” “What else does it take?” the awkward man asked. “You have to actually participate in that team. You have to have conversations around the proverbial water cooler. You have to go out for drinks after hours.” The boy interrupted her, “does everything that’s required of me involve fluids?” This did not seem like a joke to the awkward man, but it did seem funny to his manager, and she laughed. “This is not so,” she said. “I’m not telling you specific things that you must do, but giving you ideas of what you can do to improve your standing in this department. People around here expect some level of collegiality. Honestly, I barely knew who you were when I read your name on my evaluations list. Your numbers speak for themselves, but it is your actions that must be doing the talking. You must show that you belong here, and that you want to be here. The work itself simply cannot be your only concern. Promotions come for people who have the potential to be leaders. A leader speaks to his colleagues, and I have not so far seen that from you.” “I understand,” the awkward man said, even though he didn’t. Calling upon the advice from his parents when he was interviewing in the first place, the awkward man began to fake his interest in what he perceived to be the pointless social aspect of the job. And though no one grew to like him, and he was never good enough to earn promotions, he did earn wage increases, and maintained his steady position until the day he retired.

Microstory 25: At Odds

Robert Mathers opened the door to the roof and switched on his favorite song. He slowly walked over and stepped up onto the ledge. He had to wait until he got to hear the best part of the song one last time before jumping. As he was standing there, he saw something in his peripheral vision. It was a woman, standing on the ledge and crying. They made eye contact. What are the odds? He slipped off his headphones while they stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do in such a strange situation. If they both jumped, it would look like they were connected. The police would handle the case incorrectly. Robert stepped back down and bowed, opening his arm to graciously give this moment to her. He would have to find another roof. He started to walk away so that he wouldn’t be there when it happened but was stopped by a scream from the building across the street. He turned back and saw a man and a woman fighting in an apartment. They watched as the man grabbed the nearest heavy object and struck the woman across the face, dropping her to the floor. Robert and the other jumper looked at each other again. Things had gotten even more complicated. They looked back and saw the attacker prepare to hit her again. Before he could, sirens flared up in the distance, getting closer. The man stopped when he heard it too and ran out of sight. "There," the other jumper said. She was pointing toward a different window in the other building. Another woman was watching them, talking on the phone. The police cruiser pulled up and nearly struck the other man as he ran out of the building, still holding the weapon. They all lived.