I sat down at my office and booted up the holosphere. The blue screens appeared around me, displaying the entire blueprint of the city's future power grid. Since the budget apparently would not cover the lower levels, as I'd designed it, I would have had to redesign it either to decrease construction costs to afford the armed forces required to build down there, or I'd have had to cut out the lowest levels from the schematic.
But if there isn't... I thought.
I added another layer to the holosphere and logged into my account on the visualiser-application the company provides. The service clearly showed that I was within budgetary constraints, so either the company must not have updated the application or they were lying to my face. Considering the usual company procedures, the latter was many times more likely.
If I make the necessary changes to reduce costs, will the company change their mind? Most likely not. Is it worth my time? For the starving families on food stamps in the lower levels, absolutely.
I closed the new layer on the holosphere and turned to the blueprint. It would need some heavy scrutiny and some serious brainpower to improve the design I'd spent months on honing over just one workday, but it was possible. I shortened paths where I could, cut corners to achieve some crude solutions where it became necessary. If not, how would I be able to sleep at night? How would I be able to keep a straight face when Gab says my job is important for this city?
I already can't. As long as I work for this company, I can't.
The plastic watch on my wrist displayed 20:35 when I finally felt done, having cut half a billion dollars from the budget with some less than procedural methods. If nothing else, that might cause the VPs to disapprove of the blueprint. But, it is worth a try. I turned the blueprint in, hitting send at the top of the holosphere. I sat down for a moment, looked over my hands. They were glossy, almost dripping. The room was far too warm, the air far too stale. I walked over and opened a window, taking a deep breath of slightly fresher air. I glanced up at the void above, praying to whatever might exist beyond it that my new blueprints would be approved for construction.
The watch showed 21:05 when I got the message on my phone. "Blueprints disapproved. Non-contestible." it said. I clenched my fists tightly and tried to take a deep breath before I just felt this weight land on my shoulders.
Why bother with the rage, the disappointment, the guilt? It always ends the same anyway.
With slumped back and hanging head I collapsed on my tiny white swivel chair. I opened the blueprint again and slowly but surely took back the old version and started cutting away the infrastructure for the lower levels. Once the monstrosity was finished, I hit send. By then the watch displayed 22:21. Another late night, another shit work, and another promise broken.
Awesome. What the fuck do I tell Gab and the kids? I need to get home first, though. Maybe... maybe I just go for a walk first.
I clocked out, took the elevator down and headed out of the black, looming office building through the now empty foyer. The currents and streams of people were gone, and the only people other than me there were the janitors slowly wiping the black marble floor clean and the receptionists half-sleeping at their desks or taking late phone calls. I waved goodbye to a nice older gentleman wiping the floor and then broke the membrane to exit the building. It was a very freeing feeling to finally leave, but I couldn't help but feel this weight on my shoulders still folding me over. Perhaps the walk would remove it. As I picked a direction to walk in I felt a hand on my bicep. It felt firm, almost too firm, and I recognised the sensation immediately. Russels. I turned around and raised an eyebrow. There he stood, a pleasant smile on his stupid face and his glasses a little too far up the bridge of his nose.
"Mr Hawke?"
I nodded.
"I saw you clock out and was hoping to catch you on your walk home. A healthy habit, one we share."
"Okay. Any specific reason?" I inquired.
"I have something I wish to discuss with you in private."
"Fine, then. But I have to pick up a package from a friend on the middle layer in the nostalgia lanes if that's fine with you."
"That's not particularly far from here. I can manage." he said as he looked up from the steel watch on his wrist.
"Well then, let's go." I said, pointing with my arm in the direction of the nostalgia lanes.
As the office building got out of sight Russels cleared his throat.
"This... idealism you showcase, it's gonna get you in trouble. Fired, or worse."
I sighed.
"I know. But... I have to. Besides, those people are paying customers that deserve to get the product they're putting aside their children's potential lunch money for."
"I know, and I agree, but..."
He cleared his throat again. It's something I've only ever seen him do around me.
"... look, you're a smart guy, Robin. I'm sure you know about the secret execution squad, and the mercenaries employed within it. You even know one of the former ones personally, don't you?"
I clenched my fist and felt a strong, burning desire to turn and swing it.
"Then you also know that you, like me, are stuck. You can't keep yourself and you family safe and be a nuisance to the VPs, Robin."
We made our way to the escalator at the underpass, which would take us to a spot about a kilometre away from the nostalgia lanes. All the while, Russels was looking at me expectantly.
"I know. That's why it's so hard to keep at it." I squeezed out between my teeth before slamming my fist into the dark rubber railing of the escalator. He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled a strained smile.
"You just have to ask yourself this, Robin. What do you value most? Your family, or the poor families getting exploited to raise prizes on electricity just so they can get access to a service they were already paying for?"
I didn't answer, and Russels seemed okay with that. While making our way between houses on the uppermost of the middle levels in complete silence, I couldn't help but admire the silent air of peace inherent to the sort of classic suburban look present in this layer. The grey brick and the big windows. The porches and the fresh cut gardens. All that was missing was the sky, hidden behind a void. A nice, bright sun, like back in the day, and a blue sky to boot. After this moment of silence, Russel interrupted my thoughts.
"So... if you don't mind me asking, what is your business at this friend's house?" he said, his voice innocent but his eyes observant and expectant.
I cleared my throat, feeling the sweat glands on my neck and forehead kick into overdrive.
"I'm just gonna retrieve a package for my husband from him, that's all." I said while barely managing to keep my voice steady.
"I see. Well, I shan't pry further."
Again, silence resumed. After a while he picked up his phone, lagged behind, as we were a mere block or two away from my destination. I spun around, and that's when I felt the sting and saw the smoke from the palm of his hand. It momentarily obscured the SynSkin-covered metal plates of his palm being pulled apart, revealing the muzzle beneath. Then there was a sharp explosion of pain in my gut, right below the liver, that rushed to my head as warm, viscuous liquid ran down my abdomen and onto my pants. I looked down, shocked despite my earlier expectations, and put my hand over the entry wound. I then looked Russels deep in the eye and saw... void. Nothing. The metal plates of his palm reassembled again, and he lowered his arm.
"You're a liability, Robin Hawke. Do you expect to waste company money on your salary, while you waste your paid hours doing charity work?"
I coughed, felt cold spread from the wound to the rest of my body while the pain pulsed like an overbearing heartbeat throughout me. However, there was a raging inferno in my mind that never wavered, pulsed or faded. Russels must have seen it, because he tilted his head even though his blank expression never changed.
"This is why you die, Mr Hawke. All of that, the emotion. It's a liability to yourself, to your family, to the company. Emotions are what undoes us, Mr Hawke. I simply cannot allow that to hamper any potential earnings while I manage this department. Do you comprehend this concept?"
I shake my head.
Please shut up and leave already. I have my phone ready. I thought while dread settled in as I could feel my quickening heartbeat. It was like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until blood loss would do me in.
"I am also legally obligated inform you that this was the only option, as firing you while you knew this information could create the basis for lower class revolution against our corporation, which I cannot allow while I work there. Another piece of information you would likely want to know is that your family also was the target of our execution squad from the moment your intentions were made clear to the Vice Presidents. Their reaction to your assassination and our lack of intel on the information and ideals they possess pose too much of a risk. Thus concludes my compliance with 3:14, "Peacegiving"."
If it wasn't for the fact that most of my blood was leaving my body I would have been boiling in that moment, but I couldn't. I sank to my knees before collapsing on the street. Incoming voices prompted Russels to, in silence, drag my body into an alleyway before swiftly walking away. My vision was blurry and swirling, my hearing drowned out more and more as the seconds passed, my heart racing and my mind searching through all of its base instincts to keep me alive. I pulled out my phone and called Maria as quickly as I could.
Please be awake, please be awake, please be awake!
She picked up.
"Hey Robin, how you doing? All goo..."
"I've been shot near your home. Help."
I could hear her scrambling for something.
"Where?"
"Alleyway about a hundred and fifty metres from your house. Behind it. Near... Benson Str."
"Think I know it. Hold on."
"Please stay on the line. I'm... I'm dying. I don't want to die alone here. Not just yet." I said, pulling myself up into a sitting position. The pain was constant, and the bleeding was potentially worse, but soon I would be safe at least.
"I'll stay with you 'til the end of the line, Rob. Trust me. I'm coming. I'm coming."
There was a determined calm in her voice that soothed me, kept me calm. I slowed my breathing down.
Maybe it's just my body coming to accept its fate, giving up. Maybe that's why everything feels so... alright, right now.
An unknown amount of time later Maria drove up to the alleyway and dragged me into her car, put me in the back seat on my back.
"You're gonna get blood all over your... your... seats."
"You're delirious. Just keep quiet, save your strength."
She took off, almost a little too quickly, and then I blacked out. There would have been complete void before it went dark, had it not been for the constant, unwavering, blazing hatred in my chest.