Raymond idly flipped through channels on the TV. There wasn’t much on at this hour; the movie channels had the usual assortment of bland, cookie-cutter blockbusters, but the rest were showing reruns of old sitcoms, or talk shows of little interest. A few had already switched to infomercials; that usually didn’t happen for another hour, but was increasingly common these days. He winced as one channel played an especially loud advertisement; flipping past it quickly, he stole a look at the hallway, hoping that the noise hadn’t awakened his lady.
He settled on an old crime drama from the 1970s. The on-screen guide told him it was a made-for-TV movie. He smiled, popped open a generic-brand 40 ounce malt liquor, and settled in for the kitschy low-grade noir. It seemed like a perfect way to kill the next two hours. Not quite enough to make it to daylight, but close.
From within the walls came scurrying noises; one went straight up and then across the ceiling, between floors. He shivered as he thought of the rats that infested this building. There seemed to be less of them lately, but it was difficult to focus on that when one of them was literally overhead. He tried to hold back his disgust.
Raymond heard shuffling noises coming from the hallway; he didn’t turn to see who it was. The on-screen action showed the toughs chasing a lone police officer, panting and wide-eyed with terror. He watched with glazed eyes, not wanting to miss a moment.
“Are you ever coming to bed, Raymond?” The shrill harping could only come from one person.
“Get off my case, Clara,” he retorted. “It’s not like I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Yeah…tomorrow, or any other day,” she huffed. “Did you even work tonight?”
“I got done early!” he snapped. “It was just a quick courier job. No hassles. Everything went smooth as a peach.”
Clara moved in front of the TV, just as the bruisers caught up with the hapless cop. “More hustles with your hoodlum friends? Are you ever going to get a real job, like you promised?”
Raymond bobbed and weaved, trying to regain line-of-sight with the victorious goons. “Damn it, you’re blocking my view! Get the hell out of the way!”
Defiantly, she switched off the TV and stood there, her gaze like icy daggers. Glowering, he clicked the remote to turn it back on. Nothing happened; she was blocking the sensor. Clara smirked as she returned his angry stare.
“You bitch!” he shouted. “You made me miss my favorite part!”
Clara clucked her tongue. “Well, isn’t that too bad. You already missed the good parts of your son’s childhood. I don’t hear you whining about that!”
Raymond threw his hands up in the air. “You wanted me to come back, after all these years, to try to help you raise him! And here I am! I bring in money when I can, and I keep quiet about living here so you can continue to collect your child assistance! What does it take to make you happy?”
Clara stabbed her finger in his direction. “How about serving as a better role model? I almost had him going to school regularly until you showed up. Now he’s out on the streets, acting like you! The extra money you bring in isn’t worth the bad influence!”
Raymond pointed past her, to the TV. “It got you this fancy cable-TV package, didn’t it? You know you watch it as much as I do.”
“Stop changing the subject!” Clara raged. “Do you even know where your son is right now? How can you raise him if he isn’t even here? He’s out on the streets right now, following in your disgraceful footsteps!”
“So what do you want me to do?” Raymond snorted. “Leave?”
“Oh, isn’t that just typical!” Clara exploded. “You’re gone for years and years, then one day you show up out of nowhere, promising you’ve changed and that you’ll make up for time lost, but once you run into the slightest bit of static, you want to leave again! You’re a worthless excuse for a man.”
Raymond didn’t reply. He just stared at the ground.
“Why did you really come back?” she accused. “Did you just need a place to crash?” Raymond looked up at her suddenly, a sheepish look in his eyes.
Clara gaped. “Really? That’s it? You’re only here for what you can get out of it? All your promises were just empty?”
Raymond looked towards the hallway. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Clara steamed.
“Good job,” Raymond chided. “You’ve woken her up.”
From behind the door jamb, a pair of wide eyes peered fearfully into the living room. As Clara turned to look, they disappeared back into the hallway.
“Muriel?” Clara cooed. “Just go back to bed, sweetie.”
Muriel appeared again. “I can’t sleep.”
Raymond gestured angrily. “See what you did? I was being quiet until you showed up.”
“Don’t even start with me!” Clara turned toward Muriel. “Why can’t you sleep, baby?”
Muriel paused, her eyes fluttering shyly. “I smell smoke.”
Raymond and Clara looked around nervously, sniffing the air. “Hey, I think I smell it too,” Raymond noted.
The building’s fire alarm abruptly started to blare. Clara strode towards her bedroom. “Muriel, honey? Get your jacket and shoes and follow me outside!” She turned to look at Raymond, but he had already bounded out the window onto the fire escape. She sighed heavily and disappeared inside her room.
Outside, the tenants gaped as smoke drifted out of the open windows and through the seams of the building’s failed weatherproofing. Clara and Muriel walked around from the side of the building, sniffling and coughing lightly. They came to a stop a safe distance away, on the sidewalk opposite their tenement, surrounded by neighbors and curious onlookers. Clara swept her eyes over the crowd for Raymond; he was nowhere to be found. Clara scowled angrily.
“That smoke smelled funny, momma,” Muriel piped up.
“What are you talking about?” Clara replied dismissively. “It’s smoke. It all smells the same.”
“No, momma,” Muriel challenged, clinging to her mother’s gown. “It smelled…waxy.”
A nearby kid turned to Muriel. “Yeah, I noticed that too,” he concurred. “Like the kind they have at magic shows. What does it mean?”
A distant din of sirens slowly approached. The crowd watched a convoy of trucks arrive; they looked like police vans, though they didn’t bear any government insignia. As they stopped, several people in dark-colored guard uniforms emerged; there were both men and women, though all of them were stoutly built. One of them was taller and thinner; he wore a suit, and observed the action from a distance.
Instead of checking on the tenants, the guards surrounded the building, forming a perimeter. Clara could barely make out a dim emblem on the nearest van, seemingly dark-gray on a black background, consisting of stylized renditions of the letters “U” and “P”. She heard one of them remark on their cell phone that all entrances and exits had been successfully barricaded.
A group of security officers, wearing gas masks, ran inside the building. Another addressed the crowd. “Remain calm, everyone,” he assured. “The smoke will be fixed in just a few moments.”
More sirens converged on the area; before long, a squad of police vans had arrived. Other than their prominent government logos, they looked identical to the vans that arrived before. They parked across the street on both ends, forming a barrier. The officers quickly disembarked and stood in a barricade in front of their vehicles, joined by several of the security personnel. An uneasy murmur emerged from the crowd of tenants, and many of the passersby quickly tried to leave the scene.
Clara noticed that the smoke had thinned out considerably. She also saw that more windows had been opened. Some were at the ends of hallways, but many more were from the inside of people’s apartments, windows that didn’t lead to fire escapes. Apparently, they had entered the apartments! She raised her hand to object, but quickly withdrew it, and just watched sadly.
The kid that had been standing near Muriel marched confidently up to the waiting police officers. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “When is the fire department going to show up?”
“They’re not,” the officer shot back, haughtily. “The smoke was just to get all of you out of the building.” The crowd’s grumbling became more incensed. “But it’s two-thirty in the morning!” the kid pouted. “That’s all right,” the officer scolded. “Most of you were still awake.” The kid’s eyes dropped; he stared morosely at the ground. “What’s going on?”
The officer flashed a surly smile. “You’re about to find out.”
A security guard with a bullhorn spoke. “OK, listen up, people,” he barked. “Those of you who are behind on your rent…consider yourself evicted. Those of you who are meeting your obligations…you can go back inside. And anyone with an active warrant for his or her arrest…” Clara noted with alarm that the police officers had drawn their weapons; a few had tear-gas cannons mounted to the top of their shotguns. The overdriven voice on the bullhorn continued. “…will be going away with these fine officers.” The speaker stopped a moment to sneer. “And you may as well go quietly…there’s no sense in adding ‘resisting arrest’ to your charges.”
A panicked din arose from the crowd. “Now, if you don’t know which you are,” the voice blared, “form a line in front of the building’s entrance.”
Clara swallowed hard, grabbed Muriel’s hand, and slowly walked forward. A throng of her neighbors meandered in the same direction, joining one of multiple lines. Clara noticed uneasily that a number of the residents, and a few of the passersby, had simply lied down on the ground and put their hands behind their heads. It unsettled her to realize how familiar they were with the procedure for being arrested.
For the first time, she noticed a new group of people had arrived, wearing navy-blue jumpsuits and carrying a variety of packing supplies. They were followed by large spider-legged robots, with platforms where their heads should be, loaded up with collapsed paper boxes. All of them disappeared into the front door. She wondered if anyone else had noticed them; no one seemed to react to their presence, as if giant spider-robots were somehow an everyday occurrence.
The line moved slowly. Most people were simply sent aside, to wait inside the unmarked vans. A few were taken away by the police. Not once did she see anyone allowed back inside. She heard part of the discussion involving the resident in front of her. “But what about all my stuff?” the obese man protested. “It’ll be packed up and stored, and treated as collateral, until you make good on your debts,” came the gruff reply. “But I can’t afford that!” the fat man pouted. “Then it’ll probably end up in a thrift store,” the guard snarled. “Now go sit in the van, if you want a place to sleep for the night.” The portly fellow, looking chastened, slowly lumbered toward the waiting van.
Clara and Muriel were now at the front of the line. “Hold still,” she was ordered, as a security guard held up a tablet to her. A few seconds later, her name and photo splashed across the screen. “Is this you?” demanded the guard. “Yes,” she replied meekly.
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The guard studied the screen for a few moments, her long blonde hair packed tightly into her cap. “You recently caught up with your past-due rent, but we have evidence you’ve got an unapproved roommate.” The guard showed her the screen; there was a photo of Raymond, with a similar first name, but a different last name than she knew him to have. “Yes,” she mumbled. The guard pressed a few buttons on the screen, then turned it towards her again. A video showed Raymond inhaling some sort of white powder up his nose. “We recorded this video a few hours ago. We have several more just like it, stretching back about a week.”
Clara’s face fell. “How did you get those videos? Where were the cameras?”
“They’re mobile,” the guard explained. “The droids in your walls have extensive sensor packages. You probably heard them scurrying at all hours of the day.”
Clara looked alarmed. “I thought those were rats!”
The guard appeared unmoved. “They were, at first. The droids have been killing the vermin, patching up a lot of holes, making other interior repairs, and recording evidence on the tenants.”
The guard looked more closely at her screen. “Your son Julio lives with you, right? Where is he?” Clara looked down disconsolately. “I don’t know. Out with his friends, somewhere.” The guard shrugged. “It’s just as well. We’ve amassed a pretty big dossier on him, too. Lots of petty theft.” She played a series of videos for Clara, showing Julio hiding his ill-gotten gains in his bedroom. “If he were here right now, he wouldn’t be going with you — he’d be leaving with the police.”
Clara suddenly became aware of strident caterwauling, coming from behind the police vans. “Don’t you dare stand in my way!” came the cry. “I’m your boss! I pay your salaries! Now move it!” Emerging from behind the perimeter was a smartly-dressed woman with a ruffled collar and a fierce gaze. She marched straight up to the guard interrogating Clara, trailed by two police officers serving as her security detail. “And just what the hell is going on here?” She thrust her open wallet into the guard’s face.
“You don’t need to show me your I.D.,” the guard chided. “I recognize you from the news. You’ve certainly made a name for yourself lately, councilwoman Karen. Now, how can I help you?”
“You can start by letting these people back into their homes!” she demanded.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, councilwoman,” the guard demurred. “They’re all being evicted for cause.”
“But they have rights!” she protested. “There are court hearings for this kind of thing! And while the details are being sorted out, they can continue to live here!” As she spoke, a few of the police officers ambled towards her. The others remained behind to secure the perimeter and to keep an eye on the arrestees in the vans.
“They’ve already vacated the premises, and their belongings are being packed,” the guard countered. “At this point, the eviction is simply a fact.”
“The hell it is!” councilwoman Karen blubbered. “How dare you talk to me like that! I can have you arrested right now!” He turned back to the police and stared hotly at them. “Did you hear me? Arrest them this instant!”
The nearest police officer smiled. “Hi, Sandra; how have you been?” The guard returned his smile. “Hi, Charles! Not too bad, considering. I was worried after our department got defunded and I lost my job, but I got picked up by this new outfit pretty quickly. They were only too happy to hire highly-trained law-enforcement personnel! I think most of us ended up here.”
Charles looked around. “Yeah, I recognize a lot of faces. Glad to see you all bounced back!”
“What are you doing?” the councilwoman demanded. “I said arrest them this instant!”
Charles shook his head. “I’m not about to do that to an old co-worker. She may not be with the force anymore, but that wasn’t by choice, and it’s obvious she’s still one of the few holding civil society together.” He motioned to the rest of the security guards. “And that goes for them too!”
“Don’t you dare defy me!” the councilwoman screeched. “I’ll have your badges for this!”
Charles coolly ignored her. “By the way, Sandra…are there any more openings at your firm?”
“Plenty!” Sandra gushed. “They need a lot more trained law-enforcement officers for what they have planned. They’ll probably pick you up in no time flat!” She looked at the police officers crowding around. “And I’m sure that goes for the rest of you, too!”
“That sounds great,” interjected one of the officers in the councilwoman’s security detail. “We’re getting mighty tired of taking her abuse,” he added, pointing at Karen.
“So what do you say, councilwoman Karen?” challenged Officer Charles, as Karen gaped. “Do you want to defund the rest of us, right now? A writ of authority from the government is less important to me than doing the right thing, which these people clearly are.”
“I…er…” Karen stammered. Charles continued. “And don’t bother threatening us with the courts. You know how backed up they are. They wouldn’t even get to this for a few months.” He leaned in more closely. “Keep in mind…the city council can’t even stop the wave of crime on the streets. What do you think your chances are of stopping a supposedly rogue police agency run by a private company? Ultimately, that’s just another crime wave that you can do nothing about.”
Councilwoman Karen moped forlornly. “We’ll all have our day in court…as soon as possible.” She straightened herself, and tried to put on a brave face. “I think we’re done here.” She turned to march away. Her security detail followed, smirking at her behind her back.
Security guard Sandra, staring levelly at Karen’s retreating form, muttered under her breath. “You have no idea how right you are.”
She resumed addressing Clara. “So…we found Raymond’s drug stash while we were packing up. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to learn that you qualify to be evicted.”
Muriel cried and clutched her mom tightly; tears formed in Clara’s eyes. “What must I do to get my stuff back?”
“A few things,” the guard commanded. “You need to find a new place to live, we need to make sure you don’t have any other outstanding debts, and given what we found, you need to pass a drug test.” She eyed Clara warily. “Do you think you will?”
“Yes!” Clara asserted. “I don’t do drugs. I didn’t even know he was doing them.”
The guard smiled; her eyes beamed with sympathy. “Then this will probably all be over soon! We’ll put you and your daughter up for the night; don’t worry, it won’t be expensive. We know you can’t afford much. Tomorrow, we’ll get this straightened out, and you can get on with your lives.”
“We can’t get our old apartment back?”
Sandra gazed at Clara levelly. “You couldn’t afford your old apartment, not without Raymond’s money. And we have no record of him being employed. So he was probably getting paid under the table. We’ll be dealing with him separately. For now…if you two get in the van, we’ll take you to a place you can sleep for tonight.” Clara nodded, and she and Muriel slowly made their way to the waiting wagons.
As the guards continued to sort the tenants, officer Charles walked up to the man in the suit. “I take it you’re in charge of this operation?”
“Indeed,” replied the man. “My name is Jason. How can I help you, officer?”
“So, funny story,” began Charles. “We don’t actually have space in our jails for all these people. Is there anything you can do to help?”
“Indeed!” beamed Jason. “Let me make the arrangements.”
Clara nervously watched a security guard approach the van. He smiled as he caught her eye. “OK, people,” he began. “Tonight, you’ll be taken to a spare dormitory at the local college. The families with children will get first pick of the private rooms; the rest of you may end up in bunks. If you cooperate with us, you may be allowed to live there for the time being. You’ll have to share facilities with others, and keep them clean, and in any case, it’s better than being homeless.”
“Will we be safe?” Clara clutched Muriel tightly.
“Not to worry, ma’am,” the guard assured. “Anyone truly dangerous has already been filtered out. And the whole place is under A.I.-driven surveillance, 24 hours a day. If anything bad happens, it’ll get stopped pretty quickly.”
“Is that legal?” The obese man Clara had seen earlier looked incredulous.
“You’ll have to consent to it, as part of the terms and conditions for staying there.”
“What if I don’t want to? You can’t make us do that!” The obese man was defiant.
“You’re free to take your chances on the street,” the guard offered, pointing away. “Though I must say, that alley doesn’t look very inviting. What kind of hotel room can you afford right now?”
The portly guy looked crestfallen. “Fine…I accept.”
“Why does the college have a spare dormitory?” a young man asked.
The guard demurred. “It’s not really my place to speak for them, but it’s my understanding that parents don’t want to pay for education when their kids never seem to be in class, opting to join protests and the like. So they’re having trouble retaining students.” He smirked before continuing. “Also, college is so expensive these days, students have begun taking their first few years of undergraduate classes at community colleges or trade schools. Only then do they find a college that’ll let them transfer their credits. The place you’re going tonight is one of the colleges that doesn’t allow that. So they’re hurting pretty badly.” The guard shrugged. “I mean, it works out well for you, and for the firm, so I’m not going to complain.”
“What firm?” a middle-aged lady asked. “Who do you work for?”
“It’s called Full Service Evictions, but they’re a wholly-owned subsidiary of Unlimited Partners. They have a vision for fixing the problems that the government can’t, and turning a tidy profit while doing so. And unlike the government, they’re hiring police officers right now.”
“Who else are they hiring?” the young man interrupted. “I’m more than willing to work, but times are really tough.”
“We can sort through all of that tomorrow,” the guard offered. “You all need to pay off your debts, and if the firm can make use of your skills, that helps both of us!”
“That sounds great,” sighed the young man sanguinely. “I can’t believe this eviction might turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”
“That’s what Unlimited Partners is all about!” the guard trilled. “Win-win scenarios, and making full use of available resources. I think you’ll find them a vast improvement over the failing government.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Clara added. “It’s a pretty low bar to start with.”
The guard, and everyone sitting in the van, shared a laugh.
“OK, officer Charles, I’ve got a solution worked out,” Jason explained. “There’s an older dorm at the same college where the tenants are being housed; it’s scheduled for demolition, but that’s been delayed, since the college can’t afford it. It should be good enough for prisoners. They’re certainly nicer accommodations than they’d have in jail!”
“But will it be secure?” Officer Charles seemed skeptical. “We don’t want them escaping.”
“Not to worry!” Jason assured. “Several security drones are being moved there, as we speak. They’re capable of tasing a moving target from fifty yards away. Plus, we’re including two drones armed with sniper rifles. And all of them are tied together with surveillance A.I., monitored by human oversight. No one is getting out of there unless we say so.”
“Where did you get such amazing equipment?” Charles marveled.
“In bankruptcy, believe it or not,” Jason related. “The companies that made these devices intended to sell them to the government, but after a fierce series of protests, the contracts were canceled. They then found they were legally blocked from selling their products to anyone else. But acquiring those companies was still legal, which we did for pennies on the dollar, and now we use the equipment for our own purposes.”
“Very clever,” Charles replied with a smile.
“It’s how the system actually works,” Jason explained. “If a lawyer can’t make a living, finding clients that want to pay for their services, then they go out of business and become a politician. These bad lawyers then write laws that are analyzed by good lawyers, who find plenty of loopholes in them, allowing them to continue to do whatever they want, unimpeded by the authorities.”
Charles scratched his chin. “I’ve never heard it put like that before. That actually explains a lot!”
Jason punched a few more buttons on his phone. “We’ll send the directions to your vans’ onboard computers. Our equipment knows how to talk to them; after all, we own the same kind of vans.”
“That sounds great!” Officer Charles beamed. “We really appreciate your firm’s help. Oh…on that note…can we all get your card or something? None of us know if we’ll get defunded soon. And our old co-workers seem to be really happy with their new jobs.”
“Absolutely!” Jason opened his briefcase, and fetched a small stack of business cards, handing them to Charles. “Feel free to hand these out to whomever you like.” He grabbed a larger fistful of cards and handed those over too. “Including anyone that isn’t here tonight.”
“I’d be glad to!” Officer Charles looked around. “So, are we done here? I think all the tenants have been dealt with, and the movers and cleaners have already gotten to work.”
“We sure are. As soon as the tenants get taken to their new home, I’m off to the next raid of the evening.”
“Really?” Officer Charles sounded concerned. “You’re working awfully late tonight.”
“No, I’m like you; I’m part of the night shift,” Jason explained. “But a few more successes like this under my belt, and I’ll probably be allowed to change to the day shift. No one starts at the top, after all.”
“That’s for sure!” Officer Charles laughed. “Hey, do you need police backup for that? I mean, we’re already here, and we’re supposed to get relieved, but given how things are, I never know if anyone is going to show up for the next shift.”
“We’d really appreciate that!” Jason concurred. He looked at his phone. “They should be ready for us by the time we arrive.”
“Works for me! See you there!” Charles and Jason each headed to their respective vans, and the caravan drove away into the night. A series of flatbed trucks, loaded with steel shipping containers, moved into the vacated space. The first movers emerged from the building with furniture, with spider-bots close on their heels, carrying plastic-wrapped boxes.