Read Online Second Paradigm by Peter J. Wacks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter J. Wacks
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Maybe he really is someone sent to spy on me. But why would anyone want to keep tabs on me?
“Because they’re assholes, that’s why.” Rat coughed and spit something black onto the trunk of one of the wretched trees. “They got all these ads floatin’ around that they’re gonna bring a better tomorrow. Well, fuck them. They ain’t gonna help me with this shit—” Rat thumped his chest “—cause I ain’t worth shit to them. I don’t have money, so they’re gonna watch me die and send in a cleaning crew to burn my corpse. I’m only twenty-five and I’ll be dead in under five years—all because GeoCorp won’t employ anyone who had family in the government. So with me the Kennedy family dies out because my grandfather had the wrong job.”
Rat leaned towards Chris and lowered his voice to conspiratorial whisper. “Hell, most of the street people you saw are in the same position that I am. The really old guy asleep back there at the mouth of the alley is Tod Morrison. He’s the famous mathematician who came up with the new Mathematical Optimization Model that solved the food shortages for the population growth. People considered him one of the world’s greatest philanthropists—even won a bunch of prizes. But he worked for the government and now he sleeps on a concrete bed.”
Chris’s suspicion ebbed, but he didn’t know what to say, so he looked back at the spire. “Thanks. I never would have found the place without you.”
“Shit, it ain’t nothin’ for a hundred bucks. You need anything, you find me. Just ask for Rat—I’ll be around.”
“I may take you up on that.” Chris fished through his wad till he found a five hundred dollar bill. “Take this. Consider it a retainer to stay in the area so I can find you if I need you.”
Rat nodded to Chris with a grin as he took the bill. “You take care, Chris Nost. This is a dangerous world—but you’re different. And I like you.” Then he headed back the way they had come. Chris could hear his wet, hacking cough long after his head disappeared behind the heaps of rubbish.
Squat and run-down Hotel Rangely’s dingy exterior had seen years of abuse and disrepair. A couple despondent souls lounged by the front door, using the hotel’s canopy as a shelter from the light rain and drinking whisky out of an unmarked bottle that Chris could smell ten feet away. He nodded to them as he walked by, trying to be friendly in his nervousness, but neither responded with as much as a grunt.
Inside, the lobby was mostly clean, if worn, with a few dusty chairs and tables. In the far corner sat an overweight cleaning woman watching a black and white television even older than Chris. The anchorwoman spoke about widespread natural disaster in Asia, and the images on the flickering screen depicted piles of bodies bloated by flood and burned by fire.
Chris approached the desk. “I need a room,” he said to a newspaper held erect by two stumpy, hairy hands. The headline read:
Mount Fuji Blows Again,
Remnants of Japan Sink
“How long?” The paper lowered to reveal a scabby bald man with a face that looked like it came from the same family as a pit-bull.
“Actually, I have no idea. I need a place while I look for a job.” Chris realized his mistake as the words came out of his mouth.
“Sorry, bub. ‘No idea’ isn’t an amount of time I rent for.” He brought the paper back up, hiding his face from Chris. “Besides, we don’t rent to people who ain’t registered Corp Employees.”
“Wait. How about a week?” He realized that this would be an expensive fix. “I’ll have my papers by Thursday. After my hiring negotiations.”
The clerked gave Chris a long, calculating look. His small piggy eyes lit up with the prospect of a good profit. “Three-thousand. Cash only.”
Chris smiled. “Can I get a receipt? I’ll need to turn in my expense account to the Company, after all. I will be getting partial reimbursement for the move until I find
“Because they’re assholes, that’s why.” Rat coughed and spit something black onto the trunk of one of the wretched trees. “They got all these ads floatin’ around that they’re gonna bring a better tomorrow. Well, fuck them. They ain’t gonna help me with this shit—” Rat thumped his chest “—cause I ain’t worth shit to them. I don’t have money, so they’re gonna watch me die and send in a cleaning crew to burn my corpse. I’m only twenty-five and I’ll be dead in under five years—all because GeoCorp won’t employ anyone who had family in the government. So with me the Kennedy family dies out because my grandfather had the wrong job.”
Rat leaned towards Chris and lowered his voice to conspiratorial whisper. “Hell, most of the street people you saw are in the same position that I am. The really old guy asleep back there at the mouth of the alley is Tod Morrison. He’s the famous mathematician who came up with the new Mathematical Optimization Model that solved the food shortages for the population growth. People considered him one of the world’s greatest philanthropists—even won a bunch of prizes. But he worked for the government and now he sleeps on a concrete bed.”
Chris’s suspicion ebbed, but he didn’t know what to say, so he looked back at the spire. “Thanks. I never would have found the place without you.”
“Shit, it ain’t nothin’ for a hundred bucks. You need anything, you find me. Just ask for Rat—I’ll be around.”
“I may take you up on that.” Chris fished through his wad till he found a five hundred dollar bill. “Take this. Consider it a retainer to stay in the area so I can find you if I need you.”
Rat nodded to Chris with a grin as he took the bill. “You take care, Chris Nost. This is a dangerous world—but you’re different. And I like you.” Then he headed back the way they had come. Chris could hear his wet, hacking cough long after his head disappeared behind the heaps of rubbish.
Squat and run-down Hotel Rangely’s dingy exterior had seen years of abuse and disrepair. A couple despondent souls lounged by the front door, using the hotel’s canopy as a shelter from the light rain and drinking whisky out of an unmarked bottle that Chris could smell ten feet away. He nodded to them as he walked by, trying to be friendly in his nervousness, but neither responded with as much as a grunt.
Inside, the lobby was mostly clean, if worn, with a few dusty chairs and tables. In the far corner sat an overweight cleaning woman watching a black and white television even older than Chris. The anchorwoman spoke about widespread natural disaster in Asia, and the images on the flickering screen depicted piles of bodies bloated by flood and burned by fire.
Chris approached the desk. “I need a room,” he said to a newspaper held erect by two stumpy, hairy hands. The headline read:
Mount Fuji Blows Again,
Remnants of Japan Sink
“How long?” The paper lowered to reveal a scabby bald man with a face that looked like it came from the same family as a pit-bull.
“Actually, I have no idea. I need a place while I look for a job.” Chris realized his mistake as the words came out of his mouth.
“Sorry, bub. ‘No idea’ isn’t an amount of time I rent for.” He brought the paper back up, hiding his face from Chris. “Besides, we don’t rent to people who ain’t registered Corp Employees.”
“Wait. How about a week?” He realized that this would be an expensive fix. “I’ll have my papers by Thursday. After my hiring negotiations.”
The clerked gave Chris a long, calculating look. His small piggy eyes lit up with the prospect of a good profit. “Three-thousand. Cash only.”
Chris smiled. “Can I get a receipt? I’ll need to turn in my expense account to the Company, after all. I will be getting partial reimbursement for the move until I find
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