A Governmental Gun Part II
Casey Sellers took off his noise-canceling ear buds and stepped out of his vertical sleeping pod. His touch-screen computer came out of the seven foot ceiling displaying its normal daily menu: kitchen, toilet, shower, living room. He pressed “Toilet” and the usual electronic whirs began emanating from the ceiling, floor, and surrounding walls. The room went from being five by three to eight by ten and Casey shook his legs a bit and snuck in a few yawns as the toilet rose from an opening panel in the floor.
“Shower.” he said, after a few minutes of stretching and scratching.
“Sink.” he said, after a few more, the walls and ceiling moving accordingly.
Within the hour, he was sitting in front of a tray protruding from the wall eating breakfast and reading the morning’s headlines online, stopping only to wash down the synthetic eggs and toast with a few swigs of caffeinated hot water that he had always thought resembled the polluted Mississippi a little too closely. He had read about how coffee used to be, a rich, brown color with countless blends and varieties, but he didn’t know anyone who had actually had such a thing, though there were rumors of such lavish living occurring in the innermost circles of the Carlsbad regime, but that didn’t bother Casey; preferential treatment is meant for the preferred.
No, today he had bigger concerns. He was to begin the first day of a marathon shift at the office. He knew it would be a marathon shift because the lines had been forming for weeks, people with their sleeping bags and tents camped out in front of the office for blocks and blocks, each day the line practically doubling in length as well as girth. And he knew that it wouldn’t move quickly either; no one dared make a mistake, not with Carlsbad in office. His orders were to be fulfilled in their entirety with an emphasis on accuracy. That had been one of his main attacks on the former government; instead of making sure that a few things were done correctly, the four year term forced the elected officials to think in the short term, which led to more things getting done, just not correctly.
“In their efforts to improve everything all at once, they have improved nothing.” said Joseph Carlsbad in one of his many famously televised speeches addressing the nation. “Absolute control means patience. Patience means results. And results are something this nation hasn’t seen since its inception.”
Casey made sure to pack a few insta-meals, two changes of clothes, and plenty of caffeine pills into a backpack before he locked up the room.
“When will you return?” asked the computer, in a pleasant female voice, like it did every time he left, so that it knew how long it would have his space available for use by the surrounding rooms.
“A few days, maybe?” he said.
“I’m sorry, could you be more specific?”
“How ‘bout 48 hours, and I’ll update from my phone if there are any changes.”
“Thank you. Your neighbors appreciate your efforts. Have a nice trip.”