Watching You Read online

  Harold nods. I should.

  “She does appeal to the eye, doesn’t she? I was thinking of approaching her.” Mel stares down at Harold, looking for betrayal of private thoughts.

  Harold buries his thoughts deeper, but his stomach knots at the thought of his boss approaching Cora when he can’t.

  “Good. I like you, Harold. You could have a very long career here. We do vital work. Can you imagine if colors mixed? No, you were too young. We had social strife and terror. No one was safe. It’s best that people accept their lot and remove temptations.”

  Harold plasters a smile on his face as Mel continues, “Remember, Harold, there are no victimless crimes.”

  What about that Underclass Red woman giving up everything to be with her man, Harold wanted to ask. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

  “You hear me, Harold? That’s why we no longer have lawyers. They create conflict and unhappiness. You don’t remember, but I do.”

  Maybe the cute redhead’s mom didn’t have an abortion. Maybe someone, like Harold, got bored and wrote her up. Did that Privileged Green couple pay to alter her records so they could take her child? What if rules are arbitrary? What if there are victimless crimes?

  Harold begins shaking and falls from his chair.

  “Are you okay?” Mel asks, looking concerned.

  “I see the light. I know the true path.”

  Mel helps Harold up. “See, all you needed was an attitude adjustment.”

  * * *

  Ever since he first spotted Cora’s honey-hair at the monorail station and received a faint smile in response, Harold conjured ways to approach her. What should he say? How would she react? It would be tricky. Despite listening to her before her mirror, he can’t be sure he has all her private thoughts. Then there are ever-present cams. He calls up monorail feeds looking for gaps.

  After work, while he waits for the turnstile to accept his implant’s signal, Harold fears ending up like that woman who lost her daughter. Then he sees that glow of honey-hair ahead of him. He tries to recall where he found the cams. His brain scrambles with anticipation. He closes his eyes; slows his breathing. Elevated heart rate can cause turnstiles to reject. When the light flashes green, he surges forward.

  Harold remembers the cam locations he scanned this morning, but he can’t be sure he has found them all. At work, when he found gaps, Art-Intel brought new feeds that weren’t there before. As he hurries up the platform, he hears the whir of the monorail. He keeps Cora in the fuzzy edges of his vision so the cams won’t pick up that he’s following her.

  Long sleek cylinders glide into the station, the first Green, several Blue, and aft a small Red compartment. Despite a heated platform, Harold draws his dark overcoat around his collar so that only the bottoms of his trousers show blue. He heads for the first Blue car, which is already filling up. That is the way of life. Blues have crowded compartments, Greens ample space, and Reds pack in like toothpicks, pushing and shoving as befits their class.

  Cora lets a pregnant woman and her male companion get into the Green car before her. Harold reaches the first Blue car. Commuters jostle for limited seats. He is ten feet from Cora. She turns, smiles, and disappears inside the Green compartment.

  Harold follows her. He recalls a cam gap inside the monorail doors, where he can have a private moment with Cora. He lunges at the opening, stumbles on the step, and falls face first into the aisle at her feet. He gazes up at her green floral dress.

  Looking alarmed, she gets to her feet and helps him up. Her touch is firm, but friendly. Her face remains contorted. That is when Harold notices alarms pounding his ears. He forgot the door sensors would reject his implant. He violated the sanctity of Green space. He kisses her hand, a gesture he recalls his father doing with his mom.

  Cora pushes him off the train and returns to her seat. Her face carries a dozen messages but mostly fear. Greens scramble off the platform. Shouting, Blues hurry away, abandoning the nearby monorail door. He is a terrorist, having struck terror into the lives of law-abiding citizens. What have I done?

  A husky brown-shirt runs toward him. Knowing his adjustment will tear him farther from his beloved Cora, Harold runs toward the turnstiles. The Board will downgrade him for sure to Underclass Red; strip him of his job, his apartment, his meager pay. They will make him a desk clerk at the reeducation center, or put him in for reeducation. He would take anything but interrogation where they would dig at his private thoughts.

  Angry voices pelt him from behind. How can he be so rude, so Blue? Knowing turnstiles will reject him, Harold leaps over, ripping his overcoat on the metal bridge. Pushing through the bewildered crowd trying to get to the platform, he races downstairs. He breaks out onto the nearly empty boulevard. Red dregs scurry about, cleaning the streets. Harold runs as hard as he can. Cold wind slaps his face. He feels alive. His heart thumps in his chest. He can only imagine the medical stream his implant is providing. He remembers the Outcast Gray man trying to escape and getting shot. Bad plan.

  Sirens approach. There is no escape. Harold is on every surveillance feed. Dozens like him back at the office will follow his movements, check his history, and measure his heart rate and brain waves. Why did I do this? One smile from that angelic face and I ruined my life. What about Cora? Will they adjust you for my recklessness? What will you tell them when they interrogate you?

  He wants to reach her to tell her how sorry he is. He aches to keep them from hurting her. But they will track him through his implant, wherever he goes. Instinct sets in, self-preservation. Seeing brown-shirts, Harold darts into an alley where Reds cluster. Theirs is a desperate place for marginal lives. He has seen morality vids of Blues straying into Red neighborhoods. Harold is ready to collapse from fright, but isn’t he about to join them?

  Voices yell from behind. “Stop before your adjustment gets worse.”

  Harold runs. He believes he can get away, yet knows that he can’t. How can he hold two divergent beliefs at the same time? This new sensation spurs him on. He is desperate, terrified, a terrorist. Yet what presses into his mind is Cora wanting a better life.

  He trips or falls; maybe someone shoved him. He can’t be sure. Instead of hitting the ground, he flies through a doorway. Moments blur with strange images—filth he has never seen except on vid. His nostrils pinch, trying to choke off the putrid stench of rotten food and garbage. Smoke burns his eyes. His skin feels as if covered in stinging ants. How can people live like this? He loses his footing; keeps moving, half running, half carried. Stairs lead down and down as if entering the underworld.

  When he comes to a stop, bright lights blind him. A faceless, mud-haired woman breaks into view. Harold recalls the woman who tried to protect her companion. He is convinced it is the same couple he helped catch last year.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  * * *

  Despite having seen adjustments on vid-feed, it still astounds Harold how quickly his status can change. One moment you are minding your own business, in a life you have adapted to. Then it is gone. You have no job, no credits. You lose your home. You can’t show your face. You are a lost soul at the mercy of powers you cannot control. Beat down, you will do as they ask for to resist is pointless.

  While Brown-shirts escort Harold to interrogation, he plays over in his mind all the lives he has watched change. He can’t stop thinking of Cora. He has to see her.

  Brown-shirts march him down a bland beige corridor he has never seen before. Lights become dimmer until he has to strain to see the stain-marked floor. They thrust him into a room bathed in light so bright he closes his eyes tight and sees black brightness.

  After the door slams, Harold hears a familiar bass voice. “I warned you obsession would lead to despair.”

  Sweating, Harold stands on shaky legs. His eyes cannot adjust in a room bathed in white, as if every inch of wall, floor and ceiling radiates heat. He has no perspective as to whether the room is large or small. He cannot see Mel; can’t tell
if there is a table or chair. Harold shakes too much to bring himself to ask.

  “I had high hopes for you, Harold. You do good work, but this obsession shames you. You see that, don’t you?”

  Harold nods. He likes easy questions that he can answer. He is glad he can’t see his boss, yet feels that presence hover nearby, over his shoulder.

  “Speak up! Say the words.”

  “I … see.” Harold squints, because he can’t see. His knees want to buckle, but he dare not ask for a seat.

  “You’ve not only shamed yourself, you’ve embarrassed me. You forced the Board to act on behalf of the woman. Observe the extent and repercussions of your crime.”

  Lights dim. The wall morphs into a room with a table and two chairs. Cora sits across from a gray-haired man, a Privileged Green by his clothes. Harold approaches. As he crosses his chamber, the image shimmers and fades. His hand reaches for Cora. Realizing his mistake, he slaps it to his side.

  The gray-hair says, “You know your crime, don’t you?”

  “The man tripped.”

  The gray-hair leans toward her. “He saved your life. Surely, you knew. You even thanked him. You’ve grown fond of him, haven’t you?”

  “How could I? We’ve never met.”

  Behind the gray-hair, the screen shows her acknowledging Harold’s hello. “Come now, Cora. You know what happens if your reputation is tarnished? Have you thought about this man?”

  “Absolutely not!” Looking terrified, she brushes honey hair from her face. The Board can downgrade her for not living up to the Green code of conduct. “He reminded me of my brother. I haven’t seen him since—”

  “Since you were elevated to Privileged Green.” The gray-hair’s face softens. “Lucky for you an Honorable Purple wants you as his wife. You’ll gain status and can escape the Blues.”

  Her face turns sour. Harold gave the Board the leverage to force her into a marriage she doesn’t want. If she gives herself to this Purple, all will be forgiven. But Green wives aren’t accepted into Purple society, particularly those elevated from Blue. She will be isolated and miserable. That will be her adjustment and there is nothing Harold can do.

  Cora nods somberly. “Can I meet him first?”

  “I’m sure you know him. It’s Senator Lacey.” The gray-hair holds out his hand to close the deal.

  She expected this, Harold knows from her mirror-talk, but there is no joy in her face. Maverick Lacey is married to a Purple. Cora will be no more than his mistress, one of many. Walking toward her image, Harold looks for an exit, as if breaking free he would know where to find her. She is too good for this. That is when he realizes she was elevated from Blue to Green for this very purpose. Anger surfaces, stiffening his quivering jaw. He tries to wash this away before his implant betrays him.

  “Come now, Cora,” the gray-hair says. “You’ve contaminated yourself by associating with a Blue. This great outcome is available because we caught things in time.”

  “I … I’ll marry the senator.”

  “Good.” Gray-hair grins his victory.

  The image morphs to a small chapel. Time has passed. Cora stands with Senator Maverick Lacey, the womanizer. She looks angelic, innocent, frightened. Harold’s knees buckle; he falls to the floor. He expects her to notice and come to his aid, but she isn’t really here.

  “You shame yourself,” Mel’s voice echoes. “You betray your deepest thoughts. You cannot hide them from me.”

  Lying on the floor, Harold watches Senator Lacey kiss the bride. It is a tiny wedding—the couple, gray-hair, and a preacher who looks like an old-style lawyer. Tears stream down Harold’s cheeks as he watches Lacey escort his Cora away.

  The image vanishes and light bathes the room again. Harold wipes his cheeks.

  “You are fortunate,” Mel’s disembodied voice says. “She’s gone as temptation. No more sitcom. You’ll lose a month’s credits, but I’ll let you keep your job if you behave. You came close to losing everything. Don’t disappoint me again.”

  “Bless you, oh privileged one,” Harold mutters. “Bless you for your wisdom, benevolence, and for my modest adjustment.”

  Harold suppressed his private thoughts so deep he fears never retrieving them again, but they rattle around, like an energized ping-pong ball. Damn the color-classes. Cora won’t be happy as a second or third wife, mistress really. Harold wonders if Mel knows he is thinking of setting her free, no matter what the risk.

  The End

  OTHER STORIES by AUTHOR

  THE REBEL WITHIN (novel)

  After the Second American Civil War, while the Federal Union pursues a world without men by rounding up the remaining males, a rebellious adopted teen girl must choose between becoming a security cog in the elite military unit that took her parents or being torn from her beloved sister and adoptive mom.

  Annabelle is a tomboy who lost her parents at age three and developed a rebellious streak against her conformist society even while serving as a cop intern. She puts herself and her family at risk by helping a handsome redheaded boy escape prison. Then, to protect her sister, she fights the amazon Dara. Arrested for disharmony, Annabelle chooses to endure training and combat tests with Dara to qualify for the mech warrior program rather than re-socialization and exile.

  Harassed by the police captain who hates her, the mech commander who demands too much, and the bully Dara, Annabelle struggles through rigorous training. At the same time, she’s driven to search for her birth mother and help boys escape the federal roundup. Does Annabelle have what it takes to stand up to Dara and avoid washing out of the mech qualifications while remaining true to herself? The final test: a gladiatorial spectacle of hand-to-hand combat to the death with a male wrestler.

  REBELS DIVIDED (novel)

  After the Second American Civil War, a nation divided. The Federal Union controls most of the country enforcing harmony and an all-female society with the help of EggFusion Fertilization and Female Mechanized Warriors based east of Knoxville. The male-dominated Appalachian Outland promotes rugged individualism, but in fact, Thane Edwards is in control. He has a monopoly of power, church, and the economy, which he enforces with his Rangers, loosely modeled on the legendary Texas Rangers. The governor of Tenn-tucky and the Outland warlord have concluded a secret deal that each believes will enhance their power.

  Geo is a Daniel Boone type frontiersman who hungers to see more of the world than the tiny impoverished Outland glen where he and his pa hide from local Rangers. Geo fights Union mechs and Outland Rangers to protect friends, neighbors, and refugees fleeing the Federal Union.

  Annabelle is a tough yet fragile tomboy who lost her parents at age three and was adopted by Geo’s estranged Mom. Annabelle developed a rebellious streak in her conformist society (Federal Union). She becomes a mech warrior to see the forbidden Outland. When she refuses a politically arranged marriage to the Outland warlord, he kidnaps her and her adopted sister.

  After Geo helps Annabelle escape, Rangers kill his pa, destroy his home, and pursue the couple. At the same time, Annabelle’s mech commander refuses to help her rescue her sister. With no outside support, can Geo and Annabelle rescue her sister and obtain justice for his pa while avoiding capture by Outland Rangers and Union mech warriors? At the same time, can Geo and Annabelle trust growing feelings for each other despite coming from enemy camps?

  AUTHOR

  Lance Erlick has lived and traveled throughout the United States and Europe, as well as visiting Asia. Inspired by his father’s aerospace engineering work, and his love of stories, including the works of Asimov and Heinlein, Lance has been writing since he was eleven.

  He took numerous detours along the way, solving business problems for companies ranging from automobiles, to electronics, kitchen cabinets and boats, which he supplemented after hours by reading and writing science fiction.

  Find out more about the author and his work at www.LanceErlick.com.

  Lance Erlick, Watching You