Ansariland

Excerpt

Anisariland
J. Alan Veerkamp © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

It was too early for bright lights. Even once they’d breached dawn, it would be hours before the sun rose above the towers choking the sky and illuminated the district through its near-permanent cloud layer.

Traffic beacons swept the corporate work zone, directing the shuddering mechanical beast to the landing pad. The ground quaked as it set down, metal legs straining. Its great mouth opened with a hydraulic release of breath, and it spit out another load of hopeful people to join the rest nearby. The last person had barely exited when it closed its mouth and roared off into the sky once more. Mustard-tinged exhaust choked the air in its wake.

Expandable fencing corralled the crowd like the livestock his parents used to talk about before cloned meat became necessary. Scarcity had driven the price high enough only the wealthiest elites could afford it.

It had been a long time since Arad Ansari had tasted actual meat.

“A little breathing space, please.” Bracing his shoulder, he nudged at the woman trying to press past him on the left. Everyone on this planet made him appear miniature, but he was wiry and didn’t allow anyone to push him aside.

Not anymore.

Pulling his collar closed, Arad shivered, lacking enough layers to keep him warm in the chilly morning. More people than he’d hoped stood ahead of him in the claustrophobic queue leading to the Grey District A-5 tech yard after camping overnight in the nearby alley. Manufacturing was automated, leaving tech jobs scarce among the self-made engineers in the factory slums. The token he’d lifted off a wayward tourist allowed him to visit the bathhouse, so he’d be sure he was clean and appeared ready to work. He wouldn’t risk giving them any excuse to turn him away.

A chorus of boots clunked along the steel causeway in practiced unison as the mass of people shuffled forward, invading Arad’s personal space in all directions. Whether intentional or not, he kept a tight grip on his shoulder bag even though it was latched tight, keeping his few possessions safe. The crowd funneled into a line aimed at the guard wall entrance, but the man big enough to be a hybrid DemiShou blocked Arad’s view to see how much farther he had to travel. The sea of workers thrummed with anticipation and a hint of desperation yet plodded along at a cautious pace.

Above the crowd, a smooth electric hum drew Arad’s attention. A clutch of security drones hovered, lasers scanning everyone present with their unnatural eyes, maintaining order. The red pinpoint beam stopped on one person, then the next. Arad held his breath when it targeted the back of his neighbor’s head.

The project was a big deal if they’d gone to the expense of hiring a security force, and apparently word had gotten out given the number seeking positions. They would move along and keep to themselves because no sane person would be willing to lose wages spending the day dealing with District Authority.

Arad nudged the tall stranger next to him, trying not to cringe when he felt more bone than muscle beneath the man’s sleeve. “Are they actually doing anything yet? Or are we waiting to trample each other?”

“Naw, they’re checking people. It’s just slow as hell. How early did you get here?”

“Late last night.” Peering over his shoulder, Arad couldn’t see where the mass behind him ended. “Didn’t want to be in the back half when they filled the quota and sent us all away.”

“No shit. Good luck, kid.”

“Thanks. You too.”

The crowd inched along as a sluggish wave. Stretching around the human wall before him, Arad spied the attendant reading his handheld against the scan results, passing some through the gate and sending others on their way. With too many people and not enough work, the whole labor force was built around a lottery. Supposedly, everyone would get their turn. At least, that was the official corporate spin. A flawed and dysfunctional system, but all the slugs—poor bottom-feeders like himself—could hope for. He’d arrived early, but there were still so many in need and not enough work to go around.

Finally reaching his turn, Arad pressed his finger to the attendant’s screen and waited for the gruff man to verify his details.

“Not authorized. Next.”

All the ambient noises faded away as a bubble of focus closed around Arad. “What do you mean not authorized?”

Weathered with facial lines giving him a permanent air of exhaustion, the man sighed in frustration but never raised his eyes. “You’re not on the work list.”

“No, no, that’s not right. Davis confirmed this yesterday. He said I’d have a spot for once.”

Using the scanner, he impatiently pointed at the group milling alongside the wall outside the work queue. “Take it up with him. Next.”

“No, no, wait a minute! I’m supposed to be on the list!”

“Not my problem. Next.”

Before he protested further, the bony man shoved Arad out of line. The bubble popped and sound rushed back in. Feet skidding on gravel, he managed to catch himself, only to spin around and find the waiting slugs had filled the gap he’d left behind. No one looked his way. The crowd continued as if nothing mattered. As if he didn’t matter.

Hands curled into fists, he dug his fingers into his palms and clamped his jaw tight to keep himself from shouting. A security drone floated nearby. Long-practiced habits aimed to stuff down the growing panic. Since the day he first wound up on the street, he had learned meltdowns were a privilege he no longer possessed. However, it didn’t stifle his confusion and a bit of outrage. Davis had promised him it was a done deal. How could this happen? Grilling the attendant would be useless. He had a job to do and less reason to care than most.

No, Arad needed to hunt down his so-called buddy and shake some answers out of him. It didn’t take long, since the attendant had all but pointed him out.

Taking a drag off a cigar, Davis stood waiting for the shift to start. A true Caucasian, his pale skin and dirty-blond hair made him easy to spot. A rare occurrence for his genetic line to survive in the breeding soup of the current population. At least on the poor side of the city, most people were all various shades of brown and gold. Pure races of any type were hard to come by. Arad’s family had managed to maintain their dusky tan heritage through careful selection, but it hardly mattered since he hadn’t laid eyes on them in so many years.

When Davis caught sight of Arad approaching, he cursed to himself as he carefully stubbed out the smoke to salvage his precious vice.

“Davis, they kicked me out of line. What happened?”

The scruffy foreman hesitated, pocketing his dead cigar in his stained coveralls and avoiding Arad’s piercing stare. “Sorry, kid. Management went a different way. Management gave the spot to a wolf DemiShou this morning.”

“Why? You said the job was mine.”

“He’s got a wife and kids to feed.”

“So, because the wolf-human hybrid is married and has kids he can’t afford, he gets first dibs?”

Shaking his head, Davis shrugged. “It’s a quota thing. Politics. Way above my pay scale.”

Arad sidestepped in front of him when he started to turn. “You couldn’t get me into the general selection? There’s still people being selected.”

“I tried. I really did. But you’re off the grid, and that’s all sorts of red flags.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Maybe not, but they don’t like hiring folks they can’t track a history on, and they don’t have time to figure it out.”

“I’ll take less money. I’ll take anything.”

“Company policy won’t let them. They’re afraid of corporate blowback. Everyone’s afraid for their jobs ’cause everyone’s replaceable as far as they’re concerned.”

“Maybe I should let someone experiment on me and then maybe I wouldn’t have to slave for wages.”

With a firm clamp on Arad’s arm, Davis pulled him aside. “Don’t say stuff like that. Someone might hear you.”

Too many rumors that might not be rumors circulated of desperate people selling themselves for corporate experiments. Most were probably rubbish, but a slug had to be careful. More than one street drug had been designed using test subjects who wound up dead.

Dirty steam billowed out of a nearby service vent, and Arad deflated. “I really needed this, Davis.”

“I know, kid. I’m sorry. I tried. Really.” As Davis released Arad, regret colored every inch of his husky frame. It helped soothe the rolling frustration but didn’t extinguish it, since one look told Arad the man wasn’t prone to missing meals.

“Yeah. Thanks. I have to figure out what to do now.”

Dragging his fingers through his dense thatch of wavy black hair, Arad tugged hard enough to remember not to place so much faith in one single thing to survive in the future. He’d allowed Davis’s word to change his usual strategies. Normally, he kept plans within plans, multiple options, always trying to think three or four steps ahead where possible. This time he’d let the excitement cloud his judgment, and now here he stood outside without another option, thankful it wasn’t raining. He wanted to be furious with Davis, but in the end, this situation was as much his own fault as anyone else’s.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Arad sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had to start from nothing. It likely wouldn’t be the last either.

Brow arched, Davis glanced around and ducked his head. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth in an almost comical effort to be secretive. “I know it’s not much, but you know…you could stop by after shift end. It’ll be another week before I can get home. I’d like the company.”

“You’re not serious?”

Opportunistic prick. Even if it wasn’t the first time he’d exchanged funds for favors with Davis, Arad wanted to tell the man to go to hell. But he’d lost the job he needed—was counting on. He didn’t have any wolf Demi welfare to rely on, and those wages might have fed him for a month.

“C’mon. It’s not like we’ve never done it before. We have a little fun, let off some stress, and you get some credits in your pocket. Everyone wins.” Davis smiled, which gave his smudged and unshaven face a certain charm. He wasn’t a slug on the bottom of the food chain like Arad. While hardly an elite, Davis didn’t need to scrounge to feed and had a real roof over his head.

“You’ve got some balls on you, Davis.”

Rolling his shoulders, Davis puffed his chest. “One of my best features, from what you said. You were right gentle with them even.”

“That was pillow talk.”

“And that’s not a no. C’mon. What do you say?”

The ongoing murmur blanketing the area swelled into a raucous noise behind them. Arad turned to find a stout man trying to push into the job line. Probably a reject like Arad.

“You can’t do this to me, you bastards!”

Shouts rang out on all sides and tempers flared as he refused to quit. New people in line defended their place, and the attendant leaned out of the fray, his hand reaching for the alarm button that would end the whole employment lottery. Arad had seen it happen before. Screaming and shoving escalated between everyone involved. The reject was sturdy and determined enough to keep the fight going. Tensions already strung tight, threatening to break.

A security drone swooped in behind the man, its red laser focused on the base of his neck. A few people tried to run but were trapped by the crowd. The first wave of frightened cries began. A sharp crack fired from the drone, driving a thin cable to the man, who jerked from the pain and stumbled into the barrier. Sparks arced off his hands, racing through the fence, shocking anyone in contact. Curling wisps of smoke spun off his hair and skin as an inhuman, guttural shriek spewed out of him. People screamed, unable to escape, but others would rather risk being killed in a stampede than lose their spot in line.

The taser retracted into the drone with a snap, and the reject collapsed to the ground, half moaning, half sobbing. Returning to its general scans, the drone ignored the pacified man. The disrupted crowd gradually quieted, no one daring to move.

Chest heaving, the attendant settled himself in place. “Next.”

A brave woman lurched ahead of the line, taking advantage of the lull. A soft chime signaled the scan approved, so the attendant sent her through the doorway to work. Spell broken, the rest went back to the routine before they lost their turn. Rejects stepped over the downed man, knowing better than to protest.

Arad’s stomach growled, gnawing at him with ceaseless hunger and anxiety. He didn’t have to check his shoulder bag to know there wasn’t enough cash left to buy even the smallest morsel of food.

“I’ll think about it.”

The money always became more intriguing when reminded about how little he had and how few options he had to acquire it.

Davis patted Arad’s shoulder and walked off. “You know where to find me.”

Arad watched Davis leave until the rumble of an incoming transport split the air, no doubt full of another batch of hopeful slugs like him.

“Yeah. I always know where to find you.”