Allison unzipped her backpack and took out her and Des’s tin, the two tins with his name on them, handing one of them and a lighter to him; the tins containing the tobacco from what she knew now was her new job. And she was a runner, according to Des. Taking tobacco and rollies to people, and maybe smoking with the clients, she figured, and maybe trying smoking them herself with Angie and Adam.
Allison was thinking about Des’s joke, the rhetorical question, about her becoming a voter and how much they annoyed him as Des opened his tin and took two of the rollies out, offering one to her. “I think I’m supposed to smoke my own,” Allison said.
“I insist, and you’ll offend me if you don’t take it,” he said.
Allison nodded, took the rollie and lit it, drawing and inhaling. When she looked up he’d done the same. This time there was actually smoke from it, unlike earlier in the day. “What do you think?” He opened a drawer in the table and pulled out an ashtray, placing it down.
“That I’m only supposed to smoke in places voters tell me it’s OK to smoke in, and I didn’t check. I don’t know if I lit first or you.”
“I don’t know either, does it bother you, though?” Des asked, with real curiosity.
Allison took another drag and watched the plumes as she exhaled the smoke.
“You know the rare times they turn the cold on? Really cold? Winter cold?” Allison said. Des nodded, him also smoking, seemingly relishing it. “It feels like when they approve a floor for fires and fireplaces. And you finally get let in. You try to find a quiet bar with a big fireplace, where there’s peace, and you curl up in an armchair next to the fire drinking a mulled drink and everything is pure comfort. So, yeah, no. That’s how I feel, after this smoke. Lighting it up without checking isn’t important. I don’t think anyone would mind me smoking here even if I’m not supposed to. If I stopped as soon as I remember.”
“Not even the court? If they found out? Smoke is serious, smoke is dangerous, on a station, with the associated fire risk. Voters are only allowed smoke in designated places and most citizens have never even seen tobacco.”
Allison rubbed the side of her face then cast a glance to the side, as if to get some distance on things. “No. I don’t think it’d matter. I’ve been somehow approved to do this. Along with, well, being me. I don’t think the court would really mind. If they’re in charge of the law they’re not stupid. I’ll be sure to check in the future, I hope.”
Des exhaled some smoke he’d been holding in. “What’s your opinion on One?”
Allison got serious, at least in tone. “He’s an idiot, and sort of quite lovely, and annoying. But mostly a giant gossip!” She’d changed to pissed off, then amused, as her sentence went on. She’d even put faux outrage in her words by the end.
A cackle broke out of Des’s mouth. “You’ve read him perfectly. Except I’ve never found him annoying, what did he do? You’re not annoyed about your new life?” Des asked, looking perhaps a little concerned.
“When he did some private call thingy my conn began to absolutely scream. I nearly threw it at a wall. My day hadn’t exactly been relaxing. Although he did say you could sort it out, now that I think of it.”
Des mumbled mumbled something into his wristband, his one a stylised, simple watch, and the most ridiculous music Allison had ever heard in her life began to fill the room. She burst out laughing at the stupidity. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Des said.
“It’s horrific, but brilliant. What the fuck is it?” Allison said, really feeling at peace with the smoke, and the beer, and the whiskey; crossing her legs and not being surprised or awed that she was in a skirt. This was all just so pleasant, and normal.
She examined the pattern woven into her stockings, thinking it was basic and regular, the tracing of stretching, thin threads encasing her legs in a composed pattern a contrast to the raucous, wild saxophone blaring from hidden speakers in the room; order and machinery — or at least machine-made — meeting chaos.
She looked at her shoes, that a man bought her. Her leather shoes, with a big heel, with her now female feet in them. Given to her by the man she kissed and wanted to kiss again, and more.
“If you want it to play whenever One calls, no matter the kind of call, sync your conn.”
Allison took her conn from her purse while Des took his from the table and they both confirmed the sync with Des fiddling with authorisations. After about a minute the sync ended.
“I can’t wait for it to play, especially in public,” Allison said, laughing again remembering whatever it was the music was; the madness.
“Give it a minute,” Des said, holding his fingers to his lips to quieten her.
After Allison sat for a bit, wondering what the hell was going to happen, then hoping she wouldn’t regret it when what she figured was about to happen did happen, then her conn did erupt into the hilarity Des had programmed it with. They both sat listening to the music play and laughing for a few seconds. “Public answer, please?” Des said, through laughter.
Allison hit the button.
“What’s wrong?” One asked. “Des? Allison? What’s happened? Is Des with you, Allison? Did you leave? Where are you?”
Des’s laughter, an outbreak of belly laughs was so uproarious Allison couldn’t control her own laughter, despite One technically being her boss. “Are you two fucking with me?”
“She has you figured out, One. She’s amazing!” Des said.
“What are you two goons laughing at?” One asked.
“She called you an idiot and a gossip,” Des responded, still laughing.
“I am an idiot and a gossip, you are too, Des. What the fuck are you laughing at though? How much has he had to drink, Allison?”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Des waved his hand at Allison to tell her to stay quiet, it was obviously two old friends having fun annoying each other. Or one old friend riling up the other old friend. “Remember the bar, during my stupid phase?”
“Yes...” One said.
“Remember the song I used to play? When some guy was drunkenly chasing a woman all over the station and ended up chasing her around our bar?”
“Fuck off!”
“It’s her call for you now. The one from the invention of the computer days. Pure technological revolution. Mayhem. Madness. Societal upheaval. Humanity almost wiped itself out and the amazing idiots were somehow still finding fun.”
One laughed down the conn. “When you put it that way it sounds like a compliment. And you two seem to be having fun. I can’t believe that song survived thousands and thousands of years. Then you were the person to find it. And now it’s going to play whenever I call Allison!”
“It’s perfect for you, One,” Allison said.
“I’m going to hang up, then think twice every time I want to talk to you!” One said.
Both her and Des said goodbye as One hung up. Then Des’s watch chimed. “Ooh, delivery,” he said, standing, with a bit of a wobble.
Allison watched him walk to his delivery room and come out holding what looked like a sheet of paper. He took a quick look at the cover, reading something over, then glanced at the other three pages. It was really just one large sheet folded over, with type on it. “What’s that?” Allison asked.
“You’re front page news,” Des said.
“What? News? Don’t people just talk? And why me?”
Des shook his head. “People wouldn’t know what to talk about if they weren’t told. Certainly not voters. Like I said, or implied, they’re usually idiots. Anyway, look...” he said, handing Allison the news-sheet.
On the cover, in big print were the words Allison Zero. She read through the article, unsure of the language used. She understood it but didn’t see the point of it, it was like a drunk person trying to make a boring story interesting, but it was her story. It was what happened to her today. It was already interesting, at least to her.
It wasn’t all the details, they couldn’t know them all, but they knew she was a man, although they put that down to an administrative error in a ‘shocking failure of care for a child!’
They knew she’d been to a hospital floor to see a woman’s doctor, they knew about her being reported to the court, of course, and there was praise for the court’s ‘wisdom.’ And there apparently was a book about what she and Robert got up to in the private room in Rowan’s shoe store.
“There’s a book about me?” Allison asked. “Like, one of those old-style made up things? From school?”
“You should ask a female friend about books, but this isn’t that type of book. It’s gambling. People are taking bets on what you and your new boyfriend got up to.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“I know you kissed though. I could make a killing on it. Once someone finds out, words from you, or Robert — that’s his name, right? — in public and someone hears you they’ll pay out. It’ll probably be a security report, telling the bookmakers, or the newspaper.
“And yeah, voters like to gamble. I’ll say it again, they’re morons, they’re always losers in the long term, but if they’re having fun, I suppose...”
Allison went digging in her tin for one of the rollies, really feeling like she needed the cosy, warm fireplace feeling, right that instant. As she took the first drag it helped, but not enough. “You mean voters are watching us, all of us? All the citizens? And talking about what we get up to!?”
Des nodded. “They have very little going on in their lives. And they’re dull and miserable, mostly. Well... Not miserable. I find them miserable because they’re dull. No life to them. Work, work, work. You’d hate it. Most citizens would.”
“We’re amusement for them? We’re toys? Start explaining this!”
Des’s expression didn’t change, not hugely, maybe it became a little more accepting and a little less amused. “It’s about balance,” he said. “What was the last major breakthrough in our history?”
“The jump drive,” Allison said, it was obvious, everyone knew that.
“And how long ago was that?”
“A long, long time ago,” Allison said. Something else everyone knew.
“Yeah. Everything’s found a balance since then. We’ve had time to adapt. We have no real needs apart from to continue to grow, the jump drive answered all that. Humanity just keeps growing, and nothing is stopping us. We have no threats. There’s no-one else in the universe, as far as we know. We just exist to exist. And people are mostly content. Citizens mostly content in their citizen way, voters in their own.”
Des was saying all this as if it was a matter of simple fact.
“I can’t buy my own drinks any more. I can’t eat the meals I want, where I want. And it’s not just women! Rowan, today, said Robert would be better at running her shoe store than she is, if he was allowed to. Men, citizens at least, can’t work in female targetted stores! Most men don’t ever get enough credits to open a business! How are people ‘content’ with that?”
Des shrugged, not seeming too perturbed by anything Allison had said. “I don’t know. They are though. Over the course of history we’ve ranged from the strictest of rules for everyone to the loosest of rules, and everywhere in between. What we have now works for now, for here, for where we are. Do you think men should be allowed work in women’s stores?”
“Why not!?” Allison said, indignant.
“Do you think women should be allowed buy their own drinks, and meals, and own businesses before they’re forty? To not have to get pregnant?”
“Yes!” Allison said, not putting any thought into what she was saying, simply reacting on pure instinct, still all indignance.
“Then make it happen,” Des said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “You decided you were a woman today, accepted it, perhaps, and now you are. Do you think other changes aren’t possible, if they’re needed, or wanted? We all want people to be happy. And for society to grow, at least in a balanced way. It does happen. Like I said, ask a female friend about books, fiction, to be precise.”
Allison was shaking her head in utter disbelief. “No! The law is the law. And voters decide the law. I’m not a voter. And unless I have two babies who make it into the program I will never be a voter. And given my current circumstances I won’t be having fucking babies!”
“I’ve never voted in my life,” Des said, still seeming unbothered by what he was talking about. By what he was saying. “Voting doesn’t change things. Laws don’t enforce things. People change things. People enforce things. You said the last great breakthrough was the jump drive. I’m not sure if we ever get one as big as that again. All the changes since have been slow, incremental. Maybe the next real breakthrough is people?”
Allison didn’t realise it but she’d smoked all her rollie, and it hadn’t really helped with making her feel comfortable. She was agitated. And she wanted to message everyone, literally everyone she knew, and call them all fucks. And call Des a fuck. And call voters fucks.
Her legs were shaking, as though she was ready to run, or lash out. She could feel her skin begin to itch, and she wanted to claw at it, or other people. To scratch at them and tear away their calm.
“When you leave here how many friends will you be meeting up with?” Des asked.
“Two,” Allison said, sharply, and frowning.
“Tell them to meet you in a bar on C36, Jenny’s, as soon as they can make it. And give me a minute,” Des said, standing, then he walked to the kitchen.
Allison messaged the location to the group chat, wanting to get away from Des; floor C36 — an old floor — and the name of the bar, saying she was pissed off and wanted to spill the beans on the asshole she met. She got a confirmation back from Angie that they’d be leaving for there in the next few minutes just as Des was walking back in.
Des carried two six packs of beer in big black bottles. “Give one of these to Jenny. She’ll be there, guaranteed. And she’ll recognise them. Talk to her if you want. She might be more help than me at the moment. Tell your friends as little or as much as you want. Try not to spread our conversations further than that unless you’ve considered things and thought on them a while.
“Whatever you do you know now there’s nothing really wrong anyone can do. Maybe there’ll be a small punishment, or a warning. Or maybe things will change? For good reason, maybe for bad. Who knows? If things change we’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah...” Allison said, standing, with her stuff all packed up and carrying the six packs.
“And Allison?” Des said. Allison looked at him. “I enjoyed this. Sit with it for a while. Talk to your friends, talk to Jenny, talk to One. Talk to people you believe in, and sometimes listen to people you don’t. People are all we have in this universe.”
Allison nodded, laden down by gear, and was soon stepping into the elevator taking her away from her first proper encounter with a voter. Where they really did just talk, like people. A different kind, but that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Just talking? And him royally pissing her off.